Is 'How To Go On Living When Someone You Love Dies' Based On Real Experiences?

I've read 'How To Go On Living When Someone You Love Dies' multiple times, and it feels deeply personal, like the author poured their own grief into the pages. The way it describes the numbness after loss, the irrational anger at the world, and the slow return to functioning resonates with real pain. The examples aren't clinical case studies—they read like someone's diary entries, with specific details about forgetting to eat or talking to a deceased partner's photo. The advice isn't generic either; it acknowledges messy emotions like relief after a long illness, which suggests firsthand experience.

What convinces me most are the small moments—how the book mentions the smell of a loved one's clothes fading over time, or the way grief sneaks up in grocery store aisles. These aren't observations you fabricate; they come from living through loss. The author doesn't claim this is their story, but the raw honesty in passages about guilt or anniversary dates makes me believe they've walked this path themselves.

As someone who's both studied grief psychology and experienced loss, I can confirm this book blends professional knowledge with intimate familiarity. The opening chapters mirror Elisabeth Kübler-Ross's stages of grief but twist them into something less rigid—more like waves than steps. That deviation from academic models hints at real-life testing. The middle sections discuss practicalities with alarming precision: how to handle condolence letters that hurt more than help, why cleaning out a closet too soon backfires, even the odd comfort of paperwork when emotions feel overwhelming.


The latter half tackles long-term survival strategies that few guides mention. It talks about rebuilding a identity beyond 'bereaved person,' navigating friendships where some people vanish while others surprise you, and the strange guilt of enjoying things again. These insights don't come from textbooks—they're earned through years of adjustment. The bibliography credits research, but the voice feels like a mentor who's been there, especially in passages about 'secondary losses' (like losing mutual friends or shared routines).

What seals it for me is the appendix's list of 'What Not To Say.' Those brutally specific bad examples—'They're in a better place,' 'At least you had time to prepare'—read like a compilation of every well-meaning but devastating comment the author actually endured.

Reading this felt like sitting with a friend who just *gets it*. The book doesn't shy from ugly truths—like how seeing happy couples might make you furious, or why dreams about the deceased leave you crying at 3 AM. That level of emotional detail suggests lived experience. The exercises aren't cold worksheets; they're things you'd only suggest if you knew how hard focus is during grief, like 'just light a candle today' or 'write one memory, even if it's just a smell.'

It also nails the physical side of loss in ways I've rarely seen. The description of grief fatigue—that leaden feeling where your bones seem too heavy—matches what I felt after my dad died. The advice about hydration and simple meals confirms the author knows how basic survival becomes a struggle. When they mention avoiding driving right after because reflexes dull, that's not theory—that's someone who's been there.