I'm Not Crying, Am I Grieving Properly?

You've scrolled through another social media post where someone shares their raw, tear-streaked face after losing someone they love. You see the movies where grief looks like collapsing into someone's arms, mascara running, tissues everywhere. Meanwhile, you're standing at your loved one's funeral feeling… numb. Dry-eyed. Maybe even guilty because you think something must be wrong with you.

Let me say this clearly: you're not broken. Your grief is not less real because your face is dry.

If you've been wondering whether you're "doing grief wrong" because the tears won't come, or because your grief doesn't look like what you see around you, this is for you. As a grief and loss therapist working with BIPOC and LGBTQ+ folks in Surrey, Coquitlam, Greater Vancouver, and online, I've sat with countless people who carry this exact worry. And I want to walk alongside you through this question.

Are Tears Required for Grief to Be Valid?

No. Tears are one of many ways grief moves through us, but they're not a requirement for your loss to matter or your grief to be real.

Why Don't I Cry When I'm Grieving?

Here's what we need to talk about: the image of "proper grief" that most of us carry in our heads looks like the ugly cry. You know the one. The full-body sobs, the gasping for air, the kind of crying that leaves you exhausted on the bathroom floor. That's what we think grief is supposed to look like because that's what we've been shown.

But some people just aren't cryers. This can happen for so many reasons, and all of them are valid.

Maybe you grew up in a family or culture where showing emotion publicly was discouraged. For many BIPOC folks, you learned early that tears could be used against you, that showing vulnerability in certain spaces wasn't safe. Perhaps you were taught that staying composed was how you protected yourself and your family. That showing pain meant giving others power over you.

Maybe you're from a Caribbean household where "big people don't cry," or an Asian family where emotional restraint was modelled as strength. Maybe you learned that taking care of everyone else came before tending to your own feelings.

For LGBTQ+ folks, you might have spent years learning to mask your emotions to stay safe. When you've had to hide fundamental parts of yourself, sometimes the ability to cry gets locked away too. Or maybe you've cried so many tears over so many losses already that your body has simply run out for now.

And here's something else: grief isn't just sadness. Sometimes grief shows up as anger. As exhaustion. As going through the motions. As throwing yourself into work or cleaning out closets at 2am. Sometimes it's feeling absolutely nothing, and that numbness is its own kind of painful.

Key points to remember:

• Crying is not the only valid expression of grief

• Cultural background shapes how we express (or don't express) emotions

• Your body's response to loss is unique and doesn't need to match anyone else's

• Numbness, anger, exhaustion, and other feelings are all part of grief

• Not crying doesn't mean you didn't love deeply or aren't hurting

  
  

What Does Grief Look Like If I'm Not Crying?

Let's get real about what grief actually looks like in your day-to-day life when tears aren't part of the picture.

You might find yourself staring at your phone, unable to respond to "how are you doing?" texts because you genuinely don't know the answer. You could be feeling a heaviness in your chest that sits there like a stone, even when your eyes stay dry. Maybe you're irritable with people you love, snapping over small things because the big feeling has nowhere else to go.

Some people throw themselves into action. You're organizing the funeral, handling the paperwork, making sure everyone else is okay. Your grief looks like doing, like moving, like keeping busy because stopping feels impossible.

Others experience grief as a kind of fog. You're going through the motions at work, nodding in conversations, but if someone asked you what you talked about five minutes later, you couldn't say. You're present but also not present.

For some of you, grief lives in your body in other ways. Headaches that won't quit. Stomach issues. Trouble sleeping or sleeping too much. Your body is processing what your tear ducts aren't releasing.

And here's something important: sometimes the tears come later. Weeks, months, even years after the loss. You'll be watching a commercial or hearing a song, and suddenly there they are. That's okay too. Grief doesn't follow a timeline.

How Can I Express My Grief If Tears Won't Come?

You don't have to force yourself to cry. We're not trying to manufacture tears to prove something to ourselves or anyone else. Instead, let's talk about finding ways to let grief move through you that feel more natural for who you are.

Some people need to move their bodies. That might look like going for long walks, dancing in your living room, hitting a punching bag, or doing yoga. The grief that sits in your muscles and bones sometimes needs physical release.

Others find expression through creativity. Writing in a journal (even if it's just angry scribbles), painting, making music, cooking your loved one's favourite meal. You're creating something tangible when the internal experience feels too big or too confusing to name.

Talking can be powerful, but it doesn't have to look like sitting across from someone saying "I'm so sad." Sometimes it's telling stories about the person you lost. Laughing about memories. Getting angry about what's unfair. Saying out loud "I don't know what I'm feeling" is also valid expression.

Some folks need rituals. Lighting a candle. Visiting a place that mattered. Wearing something that belonged to your person. These acts of remembrance are their own form of honouring your loss.

And sometimes, you might try allowing yourself to simply feel whatever emotions are present without judging them or trying to change them. Sitting with numbness. Breathing through anger. Acknowledging confusion. When you stop resisting what's actually there and stop reaching for what you think should be there, sometimes things shift. The tears might come, or they might not. Either way, you're making space for your authentic experience.

What About Cultural Expectations Around Grief?

Let's be honest about the cultural layer that makes all of this even more complicated.

If you come from a culture with specific mourning rituals, there might be clear expectations about how grief should look. Maybe you're expected to wail at the funeral, or maybe you're expected to stay completely composed. Maybe your community expects you to wear certain colours, follow certain practices, grieve in certain timeframes. When your internal experience doesn't match these external expectations, the guilt can be overwhelming.

For many Black folks, there's a legacy of having to be strong, of not being allowed the luxury of falling apart because survival has depended on holding it together. You might be carrying generations of grief that couldn't be safely expressed, and now you're wondering why your own won't come out either.

For Asian communities where emotional restraint is often valued, you might actually be grieving "correctly" according to your cultural context, but feeling wrong because of Western therapeutic ideas about "healthy grief expression."

And for LGBTQ+ folks, your grief might be complicated by disenfranchised loss. Maybe you're grieving a chosen family member who wasn't recognized as important by others. Maybe you're grieving a relationship you couldn't be open about. Maybe you're dealing with family rejection on top of your loss. Your grief might be tangled with anger, with injustice, with isolation. No wonder tears feel inadequate or won't come at all.

Carrying On: Honouring Your Unique Grief

You don't need to grieve like anyone else. You don't need to force tears to prove your love was real or your pain matters. Your grief is valid exactly as it shows up for you.

What you do need is permission to be yourself in your grief. Permission for it to be messy, confusing, and different from what you expected. Permission to find your own ways of expressing what's happening inside you.

Grief isn't a performance. It's not something you do correctly or incorrectly. It's something you move through in your own way, at your own pace, with your own expression.

If you're reading this and feeling seen, if you've been carrying shame about not crying or not grieving "right," I want you to know: you're welcome here exactly as you are. Your grief matters. Your expression of it matters. And you don't have to do this alone.

I work with BIPOC and LGBTQ+ folks in Surrey, Coquitlam, Greater Vancouver, and online, and I'd be honoured to walk alongside you in your grief. If you're looking for a space where your unique experience is welcomed, where cultural context matters, and where there's no "right way" to grieve, let's connect. Book a consultation and we can explore what support might look like for you.

FAQ

Is it normal to not cry when someone dies?

Yes, it's completely normal. Many people don't cry immediately after a loss, and some people don't cry at all. Grief expresses itself in countless ways beyond tears, including numbness, anger, physical symptoms, or simply going through daily motions. Your grief is valid whether or not tears are part of your experience.

How long after a death should I cry?

There's no timeline for when tears "should" come. Some people cry immediately, some cry weeks or months later, and some never cry at all. All of these experiences are normal. Grief doesn't follow a schedule, and your body will process loss in its own time and way.

Can grief make you feel nothing?

Yes, numbness is a common grief response. Feeling emotionally flat or disconnected is your nervous system's way of protecting you from overwhelming pain. This doesn't mean you don't care or aren't grieving properly. It means your system is doing what it needs to do right now.

Do different cultures grieve differently?

Yes, cultures have different practices, rituals, and expectations around grief expression. Some cultures encourage open emotional displays while others value restraint. Understanding your cultural context can help you make sense of your grief experience and let go of shame about not matching certain expectations.

What if I want to cry but can't?

If you're feeling blocked, consider whether you learned that crying wasn't safe or acceptable. Creating private space for emotions, working with a therapist, using body movement, or engaging in creative expression can sometimes help tears flow when they're ready. But remember, forcing tears isn't necessary for healing.