There Is No Right Way to Grieve: Supporting Yourself and Your Community In Collective Grief
By Margot Crane, MC, R.Psych RSW | Registered Psychologist | Registered Social Worker | Crane Wellness, Edmonton, Alberta
When tragedy strikes a community — especially a small, close-knit one — the grief doesn't stay contained to those directly affected. It ripples outward. It finds us in the middle of the night. It sits with us at the breakfast table while we read the news. It lands in the bodies of parents hugging their children a little tighter, educators walking into their classrooms, first responders and health professionals carrying things they'll never fully describe.
This week, my heart has been with the people of Tumbler Ridge, British Columbia — a small town of 2,400 people who lost eight lives in an unimaginable tragedy on Tuesday. Five children. An educator. Two family members. In a place where everyone knows everyone, this kind of loss reshapes the entire community. There are no words adequate to that kind of pain. I recently had the honor and opportunity to speak to CBC about this tragedy in Tumbler Ridge BC. You can watch my interview here.
I want to offer something as a gentle framework for those of us navigating collective grief. Whether you lost someone in Tumbler Ridge, you're a parent absorbing the weight of this story, an educator trying to show up for children while you're barely holding yourself together, or simply a human being who is aching — this is for you.
What Is Collective Grief — and Why Does It Affect Us So Deeply?
Collective grief is what happens when a community — local, national, or global — experiences a shared loss. Unlike personal grief, which moves through well-documented stages, collective grief is more unpredictable. It activates something ancient in us: the understanding that safety is communal, that when children are lost, something foundational has been shaken.
From a nervous system perspective, collective grief triggers similar responses to personal trauma. Our bodies don't fully distinguish between "this happened to me" and "this happened to people like me" or "this could have happened to me." The weight of it is real. The sleeplessness, the heaviness, the instinct to hold your loved ones close — these are not overreactions. They are appropriate human responses to a genuinely devastating event.
Four Ways Grief Moves Through Us — and How to Tend to Each One
Over fourteen years of practice, I've come to understand that grief moves through us in four interconnected dimensions: body, mind, social (connection) and spirit. Tending to all four — not perfectly, but gently — can help us hold what feels unbearable.
Body: Grief Lives in Your Nervous System
Our bodies carry what our minds can't yet process. Grief isn't only an emotional experience — it's physiological. You might notice tightness in your chest, a heaviness in your limbs, disrupted sleep, or the sudden need to cry without knowing exactly why. This is your body doing exactly what it's supposed to do.
Tend to your body with gentleness. Breathe slowly and deeply. Let movement be soft — a walk, gentle stretching, or simply lying down without shame. Let the tears come; they are your body's release valve. Prioritize the basics — sleep when you can, drink water, nourish yourself even when appetite feels absent. Avoid the temptation to push through. Your nervous system needs permission to feel, not instruction to perform.
Mind: There Is No Timeline, and All Feelings Are Valid
Collective grief brings a complicated mix of emotions — devastation, numbness, anger, helplessness, fear, guilt for not feeling more, or guilt for feeling too much. There may even be unexpected moments of lightness that feel wrong. None of these responses are wrong.
You don't have to be strong. You don't have to process this on a schedule. You're allowed to not be okay. You're also allowed to step away from news coverage when it starts to feel re-traumatizing rather than connecting. Witnessing tragedy doesn't require consuming it continuously — and protecting yourself from overwhelm is not the same as not caring.
Connection: We Were Not Meant to Grieve Alone
In small communities especially, grief is communal — and so is healing. Everyone in a place like Tumbler Ridge is carrying this. There is no hierarchy of suffering, no minimum threshold of closeness that qualifies someone to grieve. When everyone is affected, we all need to be held.
Show up for each other, even when you don't know what to say. Bring food. Sit in silence. Text someone you haven't spoken to in a while. Check in on your neighbors, your educators, your first responders — the people who are professionally required to hold others while quietly carrying themselves. Connection doesn't have to look like having the right words. Sometimes it looks like presence.
Spirit: Ritual Helps Us Hold What Language Cannot
Ritual matters in grief — not because it fixes anything, but because it creates a container for what cannot be spoken. Lighting a candle. Planting something living in memory of something lost. Gathering in prayer, in nature, or in silence together. Sharing stories of the people gone too soon. These acts are not sentimental; they are deeply human.
In moments of collective grief, we often reach for something larger than ourselves — a sense that these lives mattered beyond the tragedy that ended them, that love persists even in the face of unimaginable loss. Whether that's expressed through faith, community, nature, or memory, tending to your spirit is not a luxury. It is part of healing.
For Those Who Are Struggling: You Don't Have to Carry This Alone
Collective grief can surface old wounds. It can amplify pre-existing anxiety, re-activate trauma, or pull at losses you thought you had processed. If you find that this week's news has touched something much older or much deeper in you — that is not weakness. That is the nature of trauma and grief, and it deserves real support.
If you're a parent, an educator, a first responder, or simply someone who is drowning under the weight of this — please reach out to someone you trust, whether that's a loved one, a counselor, or a support line. You do not have to process this alone, and reaching out is not a sign that you've failed to cope. It's a sign that you're human, and that you're taking care of yourself.
To the people of Tumbler Ridge: your grief is witnessed. Your community's strength is seen. And while nothing can undo what has happened, know that people across this country are holding you in their hearts.
Frequently Asked Questions About Collective Grief and Support
What is collective grief and how is it different from personal grief?
Collective grief is the shared experience of loss felt across a community or society following a tragedy — such as a disaster, mass casualty event, or the death of a beloved public figure. Unlike personal grief, which centers around individual loss, collective grief affects people who may not have a direct personal connection to those who died. It is still real, valid, and worthy of support.
Why do I feel so affected by something that didn't happen to me directly?
Our nervous systems are wired for empathy and social connection. When we witness or hear about trauma — especially involving children or community members — our bodies respond as if the threat is near. This is a healthy, human response, not an overreaction. It's also common for collective tragedies to surface unresolved grief or trauma from our own past, which can intensify how we feel.
How can I support someone who is grieving after a community tragedy?
You don't need perfect words. Presence matters more than any script. Show up. Bring food. Send a message. Sit in silence if that's what's needed. Avoid the urge to offer silver linings or fix the grief — instead, witness it. Ask what the person needs, and follow their lead. Checking in over weeks and months, not just in the immediate aftermath, is one of the most meaningful things you can do.
Is it normal to feel numb or disconnected after hearing about a tragedy?
Yes. Numbness is a common and adaptive response to overwhelming information or emotion. It can be the nervous system's way of pacing what we can process. Numbness doesn't mean you don't care — it often means your system is protecting you from being flooded. Allow it without judgment, and know that other feelings may emerge in their own time.
Can therapy help with grief after a community tragedy in Edmonton or Alberta?
Yes — especially trauma-informed therapy, which addresses not just the emotional experience of grief but also its impact on your nervous system and body. At Crane Wellness in Edmonton, I work with individuals navigating grief, loss, and collective trauma using approaches that integrate body, mind, and spirit. I offer both in-person sessions in Edmonton and virtual sessions throughout Alberta.
How do I know when grief has become something I need professional support for?
Consider reaching out to a therapist if your grief is significantly disrupting your sleep, relationships, work, or daily functioning over several weeks; if you're experiencing intrusive thoughts, flashbacks, or hypervigilance; if old traumas are surfacing with intensity; or simply if you feel like you're drowning and can't find your way to the surface. Seeking support is not a sign of weakness — it's an act of wisdom and self-compassion.
If something in this piece landed for you — a heaviness you've been carrying quietly, a recognition that what you're feeling is more than you've let yourself admit — I'd love to be part of what comes next. I work with people navigating grief, trauma, and life's harder seasons across Alberta, in person in Edmonton and virtually throughout the province. You don't have to hold this alone. To learn more about working together, visit cranewellness.ca
About the Author
Margot Crane, MC, R. Psych is a Registered Psychologist, Registered Social Worker and founder of Crane Wellness, a private practice based in Edmonton, Alberta. With over 14 years of clinical experience, Margot specializes in working with high-achieving women, people-pleasers, perfectionists, helping professionals, and spiritually-minded individuals who are ready to move beyond anxiety and self-doubt toward authenticity, integration, and alignment — and to embrace their own evolution.
Her approach is trauma-informed and holistic, drawing on EMDR (including Advanced EMDR and N.E.S.T. certification), Compassion-Focused Therapy, Acceptance and Commitment Therapy, and somatic-informed interventions. She works with clients in person in Edmonton and virtually throughout Alberta, and provides provisional supervision for psychologists registered with the College of Alberta Psychologists.
Learn more at cranewellness.ca