Book Reviews: The Grieving Brain by Mary-Frances O'Connor, PhD

Part of my death doula training includes studying grief more intentionally, how it lives in our minds, moves through our bodies, and reshapes our connection to life. One of the books I chose to read and review is *The Grieving Brain* by Mary-Frances O’Connor. I didn’t expect it to move me so deeply. From the very first chapter, I found myself nodding, pausing, sometimes crying often thinking of those who know what it means to lose a deep love.

This book met me right where I was, not trying to fix my grief or tidy it up, but helping me understand what’s actually happening inside as I live with it. It offers a gentle, grounded explanation of why grief feels the way it does and how our brain and body work together to help us adapt to loss over time.

*Grief is not something to get over; it is something we grow with.*

What I loved most is how O’Connor reminds us that grief isn’t something to “get over.” It’s a natural, ongoing process of healing that unfolds as our hearts and bodies keep learning how to love in a world that’s changed. She writes not just about sadness but about the whole landscape including fear, anxiety, numbness, exhaustion. Acknowledging those many shades of grief felt so validating.

One part that really stayed with me explores how our early experiences affect the way we grieve. The author writes: *“If you are trying to do your mourning on top of your hands being handcuffed by the past, that’s a lot.”* That line landed hard. When we’ve learned to suppress emotions or carry old wounds, grieving can feel like moving through quicksand. Another passage I underlined said, *“Time doesn’t heal — better experience heals over time.”* That insight softened me. Healing doesn’t happen just because time passes—it happens when we’re supported, loved, and given space to feel what’s real.

In chapter three, O’Connor shares a striking study about a mother chimpanzee whose baby died. In one scenario, researchers removed the baby’s body after three days, and the mother reacted with panic searching, crying out, and clearly trying to make sense of the absence. In another scenario, the mother was allowed to stay with her baby’s body for as long as she needed. Eventually, she gently placed the baby down herself and became calm again. Reading that hit me hard. It revealed just how instinctive our need is to see, to know and to have our reality confirmed when someone we love dies.

That section helped me understand more clearly my own body’s memory the deep longing and confusion after my daughter died, when I never got to hold or see her. At the time, I couldn’t comprehend why my mind kept searching, why I had dreams of finding her, or why years later I still felt the pull to look one last time at a loved one’s body during a cremation. O’Connor’s words helped me see this as something primal, not broken our brain's way of reconciling attachment with absence.

There are practical parts too. I appreciated how the book talks about sleep how grief can disrupt it and how we can gently work with our systems instead of forcing rest. Even small things, like waking up at the same time each day can help reset our rhythms. These practices felt compassionate and humanizing, not clinical or prescriptive.

Another layer of comfort came as I noticed the book also gave me a foundation for leaning into anticipatory grief the quiet ache that comes when we imagine losing those we still have. It helped me begin to make peace with the understanding that one day my husband may die before me, or I will eventually lose my mom. Instead of fearing those thoughts, I found it reassuring to understand how grief might unfold, how love keeps moving through us, and how we can meet those waves with a little more gentleness when they come.

Perhaps the deepest comfort this book offered is the reminder that grief is not just personal, it’s human. We all love. We all grieve. There’s something soft and sacred about recognizing that truth that grief connects us to everyone who has ever dared to love fully.

Reading *The Grieving Brain* left me feeling less alone in my own story of loss and more connected to the shared experience of being human. It’s science infused with compassion, and that’s what makes it such a healing read.

If you’re walking through grief yourself or accompanying someone who is, this book might remind you as it reminded me that there’s no right way to navigate this. There is only your way, and time to keep meeting yourself in love.

Through my death doula training, I’m continuing to explore how we can hold space for grief in ourselves, our families, and our communities with more honesty, compassion, and understanding. *The Grieving Brain* is one of those books I know I’ll keep returning to, both for my work and my own healing. My hope is to share more reflections like this as I keep learning, walking with grief, and helping others do the same.

Peace & Love, Julie. 

Emotional Release: The Missing Peace

Works Cited: 

O’Connor, Mary-Frances. The Grieving Brain: The Surprising Science of How We Learn from Love and Loss. HarperOne, 2022.