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Grieving Room: Making Space for All the Hard Things after Death and Loss
When we lose someone we love, we are forever changed. When our person dies, our grief needs room. People long to reduce the enormity of our grief. "Time heals all wounds," they tell us, or "At least she isn't in pain anymore." Yet no matter how hard others try to stuff our grief into a process or a plan, grief cannot be willed away. Leanne Friesen thought she knew a lot about bereavement. She had studied it in school and preached at memorial services. But only when her own sister died from cancer did she learn, in her very bones, what grieving people don't need--and what they do. In Grieving Room , Friesen writes with vulnerability, wisdom, and somehow even wit about the stark and sacred lessons learned at deathbeds and funerals. When someone dies, we need room for imperfect goodbyes, she writes, and room for a changing faith. We need room for regret and room to rage at the world. Room for hard holidays and room in our schedules. We need room for redemption and room for resurrection--and we also need room to never "get over it." In this poignant account of a sister's mourning and a pastor's journey, Friesen pushes back against a world that wants to minimize our sorrow and avoid our despair. She helps those of us walking with the grieving figure out what to say and what not to say, and she offers practical ways to create ample space for every emotion and experience. Reflection questions, practices, and prayers at the end of the book offer guidance and ideas for individuals and groups. In a world that wants to rush toward closure and healing, Grieving Room gives us permission to let loss linger. When the very worst happens, we can learn to give ourselves and others grieving room.
241 pages, Hardcover
Published February 6, 2024
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January 15, 2024
A Book about the Long Journey of Grief in the Hope—of Finding Hope Itself
Halfway through Leanne Friesen's new book, Grieving Room, my reaction was: This is a book perfectly pitched for readers in their 20s, 30s and 40s.
And just to clarify: It's her first book and I am saying that, because there is some confusion online (including in Goodreads as I post this review). To be clear: This Leanne Friesen did not write a book about miracles. That's some other Leanne Friesen. In fact, this book is rooted in the solid stuff of everyday life for millions of relatively young adults who remain in grief long after their friends and loved ones think they should be "over it." There's a rich Christian spirituality undergirding this book—but that other book about miracles currently credited to her in Goodreads is somebody else's story. Same name; different author. I'll try to remove this note when Goodreads resolves the error.
So what is this book, Grieving Room, about?
In her 30s, Leanne experienced the death of her too-young sister Roxanne. Leanne already was a pastor and thought she should be an expert in grief, which she wasn't—yet. Finally, in her 40s, and after living with her grief over losing Roxanne for a number of years, Leanne wrote this book to share their story with the rest of us.
And that's the greatest, 5-star value of this book: Leanne still is a relatively young pastor writing about grief among relatively young adults.
Two things clearly motivated this book:
First—like most of us, when we lose a loved one, Leanne felt an instinct to sum up her sister's life for the world—to document her legacy and the value of their relationship as sisters. That's a universal desire. It's why we write obituaries, eulogies and sometimes full-scale memoirs. So, part of the compelling narrative thread of this book is a sister's tribute—affirming for the world that Roxanne indeed was a person of unique spiritual value in her life and in our world.
Second—Leanne really is a battle-scarred master now at navigating grief, because of her education, her faith, her years of professional practice and her journey with her sister. In this book, she lists her own most important stages of grief—which parallel what so many of us have gone through and are going through each day.
I am old enough that, way back in 1969, I read Elisabeth Kübler-Ross's book making the argument that there are five stages of grief involved in a death. After the death of a loved one, I was given a copy by my father, who said he found it helpful. Later, in the 1990s, I was about Friesen's age when I lost my younger sibling to cancer far too young in life. At that time, Kübler-Ross was no longer all the rage in grief studies and there were other lists of stages that new authors were preparing us to encounter. Again, somebody handed me a book listing the "new" stages from "the latest research."
Like Leanne, however, I developed my own list of stages thanks to my late brother Stephen—a social worker completing his doctorate in evaluating new directions in social work at the time of his death. Stephen intentionally helped to change my own thinking about metaphors for grief and its stages. And I am mentioning that here to affirm the power—and the need—for each of us to name our stages in a public way as Leanne is doing in this new book.
In the months before Stephen finally died from his brain cancer, especially when his brilliant mind was compromised by surgery and chemotherapy, Stephen kept working each day to retrain his brain. He began each morning by learning several new words from a Merriam-Webster guidebook. He also had been a talented musician who played multiple instruments and he made notes in a little notebook each day about his thoughts on music and life in general—often coining new metaphors along the way.
Toward the end of hospice, laboring each day to select precise words, Stephen told me, "It's as if I'm on a rocket ship flying through the galaxy somewhere. I don't know exactly where I am. And, I don't know how to get home again." Then, he paused before saying: "But the stars—the stars are so beautiful."
He described that metaphor to me more than once and, to this day, I have adopted my own two stages of grief that I describe if friends ask: First, for me, there's the airport lounge stage, where friends and loved ones seem to keep coming and going and sometimes sitting a while to chat—and then I also name Stephen's "looking at the stars" phase, when the waves of love and loss and brilliantly shining memories surround us with what I can only describe as a grand wonderment.
By the end of Leanne's book, she finds her own metaphor for what I think of as my own two phases. She calls that stage a "room for redemption," but in her words I recognized my own airport lounge and my stars. Then, on the final page of that last chapter, Friesen says that she hopes her readers will, someday, be able to make "room for the hope that you will not just get through your grief but that there can be ways that you will become a version of yourself that you will be glad to be."
I love that phrasing because I so clearly recognize a fellow passenger in my airport waiting room!
Did you catch her nuances? She's not promising readers that they will, indeed, "get through" their grief. She's hoping that they will someday make room for hope. That sentence alone proves the deep wisdom of this book. (Want to read an entire book abut the resilient power of hoping for hope? Read Howard Brown's, Shining Brightly. I'm not alone in this conclusion—Howard makes the same argument in his memoir. And, seriously: It's that final sentence about making room for hope in Leanne's book that tells me she's absolutely the real deal in this kind of counseling.)
So, why did I start this review by arguing that it's a younger person's book?
Because—while I did write publicly about Stephen's passing myself, as a journalist, back when I was the age Leanne is now—I'm now nearly three decades older and have this new vocabulary for what people call grief. Mainly, I realize that my own airport lounge stage of grief is a wondrous place of grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, so many friends around the world and, yes, of course my wise brother Stephen. They're all there, not just Stephen preparing to take off on his rocket ship. And that crowded airport lounge has changed my whole approach to grief to the point that, although that five-letter word is a useful marker to "name" what millions of people are facing everyday—I actually think the term "grief" places far too many limitations on the possibilities of our human adventure. Today and every day, yes, I'm grieving, using the word as shorthand for the intensity of the longings I feel—but it's a spiritual and emotional world that doesn't frighten me anymore. It's one I treasure, even as I still feel the pain of loss.
My hope is that I'll live another three decades to read the book Leanne will write in her early 70s about her family and her own continuing odyssey of grief, faith, memory and vision. When she writes that book someday, I hope I'll still be around to give it a 5-star review. I can tell all that from what she's written here and given us all, right now, at this stage of her adventure.
Then, before I close, yet another reason I found this book so refreshing: I agree with Leanne's decision not to devote a weighty chapter or two to her professional assessment of the various charts and lists and stages that have been offered to the world by scholars from Kübler-Ross until today. If you care to read a kindred book about rediscovering resilience after grief and other traumas, get a copy of Jeffrey Munroe's new Telling Stories in the Dark. Like Leanne, Jeff's book is full of solid wisdom, but he doesn't make readers slog through a long history of earlier research. Both Leanne's and Jeff's books feel contemporary, honest and forward looking.
These wise authors—acquainted with grief—are simply sitting down with us and sharing their hard-earned wisdom. They're telling the stories millions of us need to hear—because they also are our own.
Finally, the last sign of Leanne's wisdom is that she closes her book with a very thoughtful 40-page guide to individual reflection and group discussion on the themes she explores in this memoir. It's a detailed toolbox of ideas, questions and practices readers could choose to follow. I'm sure many will.
So, here's my hope for hope:
May many readers find hope between these covers. And may Leanne Friesen continue writing for many decades until her airport lounge is so bursting with wonderment that we get the sequel to this wise and welcoming volume. And, God willing, may I be around to write another 5-star review.
Halfway through Leanne Friesen's new book, Grieving Room, my reaction was: This is a book perfectly pitched for readers in their 20s, 30s and 40s.
And just to clarify: It's her first book and I am saying that, because there is some confusion online (including in Goodreads as I post this review). To be clear: This Leanne Friesen did not write a book about miracles. That's some other Leanne Friesen. In fact, this book is rooted in the solid stuff of everyday life for millions of relatively young adults who remain in grief long after their friends and loved ones think they should be "over it." There's a rich Christian spirituality undergirding this book—but that other book about miracles currently credited to her in Goodreads is somebody else's story. Same name; different author. I'll try to remove this note when Goodreads resolves the error.
So what is this book, Grieving Room, about?
In her 30s, Leanne experienced the death of her too-young sister Roxanne. Leanne already was a pastor and thought she should be an expert in grief, which she wasn't—yet. Finally, in her 40s, and after living with her grief over losing Roxanne for a number of years, Leanne wrote this book to share their story with the rest of us.
And that's the greatest, 5-star value of this book: Leanne still is a relatively young pastor writing about grief among relatively young adults.
Two things clearly motivated this book:
First—like most of us, when we lose a loved one, Leanne felt an instinct to sum up her sister's life for the world—to document her legacy and the value of their relationship as sisters. That's a universal desire. It's why we write obituaries, eulogies and sometimes full-scale memoirs. So, part of the compelling narrative thread of this book is a sister's tribute—affirming for the world that Roxanne indeed was a person of unique spiritual value in her life and in our world.
Second—Leanne really is a battle-scarred master now at navigating grief, because of her education, her faith, her years of professional practice and her journey with her sister. In this book, she lists her own most important stages of grief—which parallel what so many of us have gone through and are going through each day.
I am old enough that, way back in 1969, I read Elisabeth Kübler-Ross's book making the argument that there are five stages of grief involved in a death. After the death of a loved one, I was given a copy by my father, who said he found it helpful. Later, in the 1990s, I was about Friesen's age when I lost my younger sibling to cancer far too young in life. At that time, Kübler-Ross was no longer all the rage in grief studies and there were other lists of stages that new authors were preparing us to encounter. Again, somebody handed me a book listing the "new" stages from "the latest research."
Like Leanne, however, I developed my own list of stages thanks to my late brother Stephen—a social worker completing his doctorate in evaluating new directions in social work at the time of his death. Stephen intentionally helped to change my own thinking about metaphors for grief and its stages. And I am mentioning that here to affirm the power—and the need—for each of us to name our stages in a public way as Leanne is doing in this new book.
In the months before Stephen finally died from his brain cancer, especially when his brilliant mind was compromised by surgery and chemotherapy, Stephen kept working each day to retrain his brain. He began each morning by learning several new words from a Merriam-Webster guidebook. He also had been a talented musician who played multiple instruments and he made notes in a little notebook each day about his thoughts on music and life in general—often coining new metaphors along the way.
Toward the end of hospice, laboring each day to select precise words, Stephen told me, "It's as if I'm on a rocket ship flying through the galaxy somewhere. I don't know exactly where I am. And, I don't know how to get home again." Then, he paused before saying: "But the stars—the stars are so beautiful."
He described that metaphor to me more than once and, to this day, I have adopted my own two stages of grief that I describe if friends ask: First, for me, there's the airport lounge stage, where friends and loved ones seem to keep coming and going and sometimes sitting a while to chat—and then I also name Stephen's "looking at the stars" phase, when the waves of love and loss and brilliantly shining memories surround us with what I can only describe as a grand wonderment.
By the end of Leanne's book, she finds her own metaphor for what I think of as my own two phases. She calls that stage a "room for redemption," but in her words I recognized my own airport lounge and my stars. Then, on the final page of that last chapter, Friesen says that she hopes her readers will, someday, be able to make "room for the hope that you will not just get through your grief but that there can be ways that you will become a version of yourself that you will be glad to be."
I love that phrasing because I so clearly recognize a fellow passenger in my airport waiting room!
Did you catch her nuances? She's not promising readers that they will, indeed, "get through" their grief. She's hoping that they will someday make room for hope. That sentence alone proves the deep wisdom of this book. (Want to read an entire book abut the resilient power of hoping for hope? Read Howard Brown's, Shining Brightly. I'm not alone in this conclusion—Howard makes the same argument in his memoir. And, seriously: It's that final sentence about making room for hope in Leanne's book that tells me she's absolutely the real deal in this kind of counseling.)
So, why did I start this review by arguing that it's a younger person's book?
Because—while I did write publicly about Stephen's passing myself, as a journalist, back when I was the age Leanne is now—I'm now nearly three decades older and have this new vocabulary for what people call grief. Mainly, I realize that my own airport lounge stage of grief is a wondrous place of grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, so many friends around the world and, yes, of course my wise brother Stephen. They're all there, not just Stephen preparing to take off on his rocket ship. And that crowded airport lounge has changed my whole approach to grief to the point that, although that five-letter word is a useful marker to "name" what millions of people are facing everyday—I actually think the term "grief" places far too many limitations on the possibilities of our human adventure. Today and every day, yes, I'm grieving, using the word as shorthand for the intensity of the longings I feel—but it's a spiritual and emotional world that doesn't frighten me anymore. It's one I treasure, even as I still feel the pain of loss.
My hope is that I'll live another three decades to read the book Leanne will write in her early 70s about her family and her own continuing odyssey of grief, faith, memory and vision. When she writes that book someday, I hope I'll still be around to give it a 5-star review. I can tell all that from what she's written here and given us all, right now, at this stage of her adventure.
Then, before I close, yet another reason I found this book so refreshing: I agree with Leanne's decision not to devote a weighty chapter or two to her professional assessment of the various charts and lists and stages that have been offered to the world by scholars from Kübler-Ross until today. If you care to read a kindred book about rediscovering resilience after grief and other traumas, get a copy of Jeffrey Munroe's new Telling Stories in the Dark. Like Leanne, Jeff's book is full of solid wisdom, but he doesn't make readers slog through a long history of earlier research. Both Leanne's and Jeff's books feel contemporary, honest and forward looking.
These wise authors—acquainted with grief—are simply sitting down with us and sharing their hard-earned wisdom. They're telling the stories millions of us need to hear—because they also are our own.
Finally, the last sign of Leanne's wisdom is that she closes her book with a very thoughtful 40-page guide to individual reflection and group discussion on the themes she explores in this memoir. It's a detailed toolbox of ideas, questions and practices readers could choose to follow. I'm sure many will.
So, here's my hope for hope:
May many readers find hope between these covers. And may Leanne Friesen continue writing for many decades until her airport lounge is so bursting with wonderment that we get the sequel to this wise and welcoming volume. And, God willing, may I be around to write another 5-star review.
February 15, 2024
As someone who has always struggled with finding the right thing to say and finding the right way to express my love and support to a grieving friend or family member, I found this book to be thoughtful, enlightening and helpful.
Friesen writes from a Christian lens, but even as someone who has deliberately moved away from all church and religion, I appreciated her kind and compassionate perspective, her recognition that any grieving individual needs room to work through a multitude of unexpected and often painful emotions.
I was especially moved by her later chapters Room to Reconsider and Room for Resurrection. The former asserts that it is healthy and helpful to move beyond religious faith and certainty, and in doing so provide space for wrestling with doubt and being okay with what is unknown. In the latter chapter, Friesen take the theme of Christian resurrection and spins it in an unexpected way, providing a window into how she worked through her pain and grief, using her theological education and religious beliefs to arrive at some form of personal resolution and contentment. Normally I shy away from anything remotely religious, but I was moved by this chapter - because at the end of the day, aren't we all just trying to make sense of the world and the unfair tragedies that unfold around us? I may not align with any religion, but I align with anyone mindfully working through their feelings to arrive at some form of internal peace.
Highly recommended -
Friesen writes from a Christian lens, but even as someone who has deliberately moved away from all church and religion, I appreciated her kind and compassionate perspective, her recognition that any grieving individual needs room to work through a multitude of unexpected and often painful emotions.
I was especially moved by her later chapters Room to Reconsider and Room for Resurrection. The former asserts that it is healthy and helpful to move beyond religious faith and certainty, and in doing so provide space for wrestling with doubt and being okay with what is unknown. In the latter chapter, Friesen take the theme of Christian resurrection and spins it in an unexpected way, providing a window into how she worked through her pain and grief, using her theological education and religious beliefs to arrive at some form of personal resolution and contentment. Normally I shy away from anything remotely religious, but I was moved by this chapter - because at the end of the day, aren't we all just trying to make sense of the world and the unfair tragedies that unfold around us? I may not align with any religion, but I align with anyone mindfully working through their feelings to arrive at some form of internal peace.
Highly recommended -
January 6, 2026
this book was given to me as a gift and has been a close friend in my time of grief. the main idea is around the need for room for grief and all the messiness that comes with it. there is need for room to be angry, room for lament, room for the unknown. warm, touching, at times funny, it has helped me to forgive myself, forgive others, and begin the process of navigating life without my mom.
will return in the future in times of personal need and when i need a reminder of how to give others the space to grieve, when that time comes
will return in the future in times of personal need and when i need a reminder of how to give others the space to grieve, when that time comes
February 29, 2024
This book is more than a book. It is a toolbox full of wisdom. Whereas many of walk into grief with the expectation that we will eventually walk right out of it again, Leanne very eloquently tempers that expectation. I think very few of us would be able to take such extreme grief and dive into it so deeply that it would offer something that not only theorizes about it but offers something fundamentally helpful for others. Leanne has offered us all a gift in her reflections and writing.
May 1, 2024
My aunt (i.e., my deceased dad's beloved little sister) pinged me in late February, very soon after this book came out, telling me I *had* to read it. Apparently, she picked it up at an airport? I bought the book, sat on it for a week or so with mild dread, then started in. Friesen, a pastor, writes of her grief at the young death of her sister from cancer. All good, heart-breaking stuff. Smart, thoughtful. Four stars, for realsies.
Then I hit the "rituals" chapter in which she writes of her sister's massive funeral in her hometown at which she (of course) gave a eulogy, and . . . I cracked big time--and was barely functional for 24 hours after. A 24 hours that possibly included me angry-texting my aunt about my dad's terrrrrrrible funeral (the church refused to allow my brother and me to give eulogies, because CONTROL, and at the brink of winter in rural South Dakota, well--there was literally no other place to hold it because ALL the churches in town followed the same stupid rule, and we know this because we TRIED). Oh, how I longed to be back in Seattle with people and a culture I knew and understood, but hey. My folks chose to move to the land of my ancestors where the governor shoots a puppy and brags about it, so . . . yeah. It wasn't ideal.
My aunt gently suggested that we re-do my dad's funeral in Seattle. Nay, said I. Because it would be weird. Because I've already planned ONE funeral by my freaking self. Because I couldn't possibly put my mother through a second one.
"You should at least write the eulogy," she said. And she's right, of course. Although I already wrote one, then deleted it, permanently. And wrote it again. And deleted it. And started to write it yet again. So what if I finish it? What the eff would I do with it? Recite it into the wind? Print it and cut it up into little pieces and let them disperse over Dad's grave? Hell no. Seeing as how I hyperventilate when entering Dakota air space, that's not the best option.
I was similarly undone right after the funeral for a person from our church who had several lovely, thoughtful eulogies from his friends and relatives that showed the special sides of this person for all to see and celebrate. I was completely looney for--again--a solid 24 hours, and this was leading into the 1-year anniversary of my dad's death (which was traumatic and terrible and too complicated to go into on a Goodreads review). "Why couldn't we have had that type of memorial??" I lamented to my patient and somewhat perplexed husband.
The point being: After losing a full day of function after reading Chapter 6 (my kids made it to school and that. was. it.), I decided to take a break from this book. When I finally returned, I read it in only tiny bits. More than 2 months later, I made it to the end of this not-long text, and now that I have thankfully reached the other side, I can say it is quite top-notch. I am suuuuper sensitive on this topic, but as someone who was denied a proper memorial for my dad (it was a cranky we-are-sinners sermon with a casket) (but with perfect music and my choice of scripture because that was all I could control), reading about Friesen's PERFECT MEMORIAL for her sister was not helpful. I mean, what is the reader who had my shit situation supposed to do? "Make room" for disappointment? For having failed her dad after 6 months of voiceless poststroke agony? The grief on top of grief? Sure. [cranks open a hollow, pissed heart] Done. I made "room." Now what?
As pissy as I write, this is a very, very good book. The "Room for Lament" and "Room for Resurrection" chapters are spectacular. The "Room for Never Getting Over It" is quite good too.
And my aunt loved this book, and I love her and love that she found this book so useful. So: Four solid stars.
Then I hit the "rituals" chapter in which she writes of her sister's massive funeral in her hometown at which she (of course) gave a eulogy, and . . . I cracked big time--and was barely functional for 24 hours after. A 24 hours that possibly included me angry-texting my aunt about my dad's terrrrrrrible funeral (the church refused to allow my brother and me to give eulogies, because CONTROL, and at the brink of winter in rural South Dakota, well--there was literally no other place to hold it because ALL the churches in town followed the same stupid rule, and we know this because we TRIED). Oh, how I longed to be back in Seattle with people and a culture I knew and understood, but hey. My folks chose to move to the land of my ancestors where the governor shoots a puppy and brags about it, so . . . yeah. It wasn't ideal.
My aunt gently suggested that we re-do my dad's funeral in Seattle. Nay, said I. Because it would be weird. Because I've already planned ONE funeral by my freaking self. Because I couldn't possibly put my mother through a second one.
"You should at least write the eulogy," she said. And she's right, of course. Although I already wrote one, then deleted it, permanently. And wrote it again. And deleted it. And started to write it yet again. So what if I finish it? What the eff would I do with it? Recite it into the wind? Print it and cut it up into little pieces and let them disperse over Dad's grave? Hell no. Seeing as how I hyperventilate when entering Dakota air space, that's not the best option.
I was similarly undone right after the funeral for a person from our church who had several lovely, thoughtful eulogies from his friends and relatives that showed the special sides of this person for all to see and celebrate. I was completely looney for--again--a solid 24 hours, and this was leading into the 1-year anniversary of my dad's death (which was traumatic and terrible and too complicated to go into on a Goodreads review). "Why couldn't we have had that type of memorial??" I lamented to my patient and somewhat perplexed husband.
The point being: After losing a full day of function after reading Chapter 6 (my kids made it to school and that. was. it.), I decided to take a break from this book. When I finally returned, I read it in only tiny bits. More than 2 months later, I made it to the end of this not-long text, and now that I have thankfully reached the other side, I can say it is quite top-notch. I am suuuuper sensitive on this topic, but as someone who was denied a proper memorial for my dad (it was a cranky we-are-sinners sermon with a casket) (but with perfect music and my choice of scripture because that was all I could control), reading about Friesen's PERFECT MEMORIAL for her sister was not helpful. I mean, what is the reader who had my shit situation supposed to do? "Make room" for disappointment? For having failed her dad after 6 months of voiceless poststroke agony? The grief on top of grief? Sure. [cranks open a hollow, pissed heart] Done. I made "room." Now what?
As pissy as I write, this is a very, very good book. The "Room for Lament" and "Room for Resurrection" chapters are spectacular. The "Room for Never Getting Over It" is quite good too.
And my aunt loved this book, and I love her and love that she found this book so useful. So: Four solid stars.
August 26, 2024
I related very much to this book and found it to be validating of many aspects of grief that I have been experiencing over the last few months. Like the author, my sister also passed away, and the author uses the term “Grief Bubble” to describe her grief, which is exactly what I have been calling it. The chapters on Grief and the “And”, Lament, Resurrection, the Rollercoaster, and Redemption were especially helpful, as were her Reflections, Practices, and Prayers. Thank you so much for this helpful, soulful read. I will be sharing it with others.
January 12, 2025
This book contains some of the most resonating words about hearts that are grieving. I would encourage “making room” on your shelf for this one!
January 25, 2024
Heartfelt, thoughtful and vulnerable. Loved it. Highly recommend!!
February 24, 2025
Although I normally blow through a few books a week, I had to meander my way through this one, stepping away for weeks at a time. Just last night, I was apologizing for not being “okay” yet and collapsing into a puddle of tears over nothing. Finishing this book today was a reminder that a normal grief journey is 2-4 years. Obviously this book didn’t resolve my grief, but it did normalize my desire to push back against religious platitudes and provide a vocabulary for the grief rage and other feelings that those who have experienced loss don’t always speak about.
July 11, 2024
It is a book that helps you understand your own grief , feelings and helps you to accept that the feelings are real and allowed.
December 18, 2025
Sobbed every chapter. Brilliant insight and wisdom.
February 6, 2024
I loved this book for so many reasons. It's honest. It's down-to-earth. It's practical. I believe this book is timeless and will help many who are facing grief. Its brilliance is putting into words, what is often impossible for the griever to explain. As a therapist, I will recommend this book to clients/patients experiencing grief. My only disappointment is that it was not written sooner. This book offers validation and hope for those navigating their darkest days.
July 20, 2024
This is a great book for anyone
who is trying to support a grieving person. The author includes many tools that are quite helpful to both grievers and those support people near them. As a grieving mother, however, I found myself growing weary of hearing so much about her personal story. This book is very definitely a tribute to her sister, Roxanne. I applaud that effort, but for me, it was painful to plow through. However, I very much agree with the concept that as a society, we do need to learn to allow space and time for those who are struggling to incorporate the difficult and unwanted separation death brings to our lives.
I listened to the audio version of this book. The narrator has a pleasant voice and did a great job bringing the book to life.
who is trying to support a grieving person. The author includes many tools that are quite helpful to both grievers and those support people near them. As a grieving mother, however, I found myself growing weary of hearing so much about her personal story. This book is very definitely a tribute to her sister, Roxanne. I applaud that effort, but for me, it was painful to plow through. However, I very much agree with the concept that as a society, we do need to learn to allow space and time for those who are struggling to incorporate the difficult and unwanted separation death brings to our lives.
I listened to the audio version of this book. The narrator has a pleasant voice and did a great job bringing the book to life.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 21, 2025
Loved this. Great advice for anyone who is grieving and anyone who is supporting someone who is grieving. Compassionate, validating and practical.
Takeaways:
Leave room for grief. The grief circle can take 2-4 years to go from living inside it until you live beside it. Take good care of yourself. Leave room to forgive those who say the wrong thing. Find your people who you can speak with honestly about your feelings. Grief Bursts are when small things trigger grief. Grief changes the way we see ourselves, our lives and God. Part of grief is bemoaning what will never happen.
“The resurrection means the worst thing doesn’t have to be the last thing.” -Frederick Buechner
Takeaways:
Leave room for grief. The grief circle can take 2-4 years to go from living inside it until you live beside it. Take good care of yourself. Leave room to forgive those who say the wrong thing. Find your people who you can speak with honestly about your feelings. Grief Bursts are when small things trigger grief. Grief changes the way we see ourselves, our lives and God. Part of grief is bemoaning what will never happen.
“The resurrection means the worst thing doesn’t have to be the last thing.” -Frederick Buechner
July 2, 2024
I placed a library hold on this book several months ago, wanting to read it because of the Newfoundland author, but having little need for help with grief. Two days after my father was diagnosed with advanced glioblastoma, my library hold came up. There are truly no coincidences. Leanne’s wisdom has provided helpful insight into the pain to come and the anticipatory grief that is already here. I’ve even ordered a hard copy so that I can share it and read it again. Thank you for sharing your grief journey, Leanne.
October 15, 2024
🌹Grieving Room:Making Space for All the Hard Things after Death and Loss by Leanne Friesen 🇨🇦
An open-ended question to consider asking a sick, grieving, or dying friend instead of “How are you?” is “Would you like me to ask how you are doing?”
When we lose someone we love, we are forever changed. When our person dies, our grief needs room.
People long to reduce the enormity of our grief. “Time heals all wounds,”they tell us, or “At least she isn’t in pain anymore.” Yet no matter how hard others try to stuff our grief into a process or a plan, grief cannot be willed away.
Leanne Friesen thought she knew a lot about bereavement. She had studied in school and preached at memorial services. But only when her own sister died from cancer did she learn, in her very bones, what grieving people don’t need-and what they do. In Grieving Room, Friesen writes with vulnerability, wisdom, and somehow even wit about the stark and sacred lessons learned at deathbeds and funerals. When someone dies, we need room for imperfect goodbyes, she writes, and room for a changing faith. We need room for regret and room to rage at the world. Room for hard holidays and room in our schedules. We need room for redemption and room for resurrection - and we also need room to never “get over it.”
In this poignant account of a sister’s mourning and a pastor’s journey, Friesen pushes back against a world that wants to minimize our sorrow and avoid our despair. She helps those of us walking with the grieving figure out what to say and what not to say, and she offers practical ways to create ample space for every emotion and experience.
Two or three months after someone has died grief supporters should get in touch. Instead of asking “How are you?” try saying, “What’s been hardest the last little while?” or “Tell me what you are missing about your loved one.” or “Tell me what your grief looks like right now.”
Reflection questions, practices, and prayers at the end of the book offer guidance and ideas for individuals and groups.
In a world that wants to rush toward closure and healing, Grieving Room gives us permission to let loss linger. When the very worst happens, we can learn to give ourselves and others grieving room. I highly recommend this book.
5 stars
An open-ended question to consider asking a sick, grieving, or dying friend instead of “How are you?” is “Would you like me to ask how you are doing?”
When we lose someone we love, we are forever changed. When our person dies, our grief needs room.
People long to reduce the enormity of our grief. “Time heals all wounds,”they tell us, or “At least she isn’t in pain anymore.” Yet no matter how hard others try to stuff our grief into a process or a plan, grief cannot be willed away.
Leanne Friesen thought she knew a lot about bereavement. She had studied in school and preached at memorial services. But only when her own sister died from cancer did she learn, in her very bones, what grieving people don’t need-and what they do. In Grieving Room, Friesen writes with vulnerability, wisdom, and somehow even wit about the stark and sacred lessons learned at deathbeds and funerals. When someone dies, we need room for imperfect goodbyes, she writes, and room for a changing faith. We need room for regret and room to rage at the world. Room for hard holidays and room in our schedules. We need room for redemption and room for resurrection - and we also need room to never “get over it.”
In this poignant account of a sister’s mourning and a pastor’s journey, Friesen pushes back against a world that wants to minimize our sorrow and avoid our despair. She helps those of us walking with the grieving figure out what to say and what not to say, and she offers practical ways to create ample space for every emotion and experience.
Two or three months after someone has died grief supporters should get in touch. Instead of asking “How are you?” try saying, “What’s been hardest the last little while?” or “Tell me what you are missing about your loved one.” or “Tell me what your grief looks like right now.”
Reflection questions, practices, and prayers at the end of the book offer guidance and ideas for individuals and groups.
In a world that wants to rush toward closure and healing, Grieving Room gives us permission to let loss linger. When the very worst happens, we can learn to give ourselves and others grieving room. I highly recommend this book.
5 stars
March 12, 2025
Thanks to my sweet friend Kathleen for recommending this book. I wish none of us needed a grieving book.
Friesen was extremely close to her sister, who died much too young from cancer. The book was written following her loss about her thoughts and experience with grief. I'm sorry if my thoughts are scattered and jumbled, I'm working through compounded grief myself after 4 losses in less than two years. Friesen has been a Pastor for over 20 years and this mattered to me because I've been pissed off, confused and torn with God.
In the book, there are things to say and not say, how to keep going, how to make space for grief. You know, so many cultures have different ways of dealing with grief. These are my opinions here: We don't like the uncomfortable here in the US, grief is messy and unknown and we don't know how to handle it. What's worse is that we don't want to. When we lose someone, friends and relatives are there BRIEFLY. People stop asking how we're doing, they don't talk about memories with the passed one, they don't ask questions... just tiptoe around, don't ask if we're sleeping better, don't ask anything because God forbid we bring up something uncomfortable. Grief doesn't disappear in a month or two. We have to learn how to live with grief. But what matters to me is recognizing that I'm not leaving my loved ones behind, they're walking with me - forward.
Back to the book, I've read a bunch on grief lately and by far this has helped me the most. It's well written, articulate, gut wrenching but powerful. I feel like a hand is reaching out to me after reading it. I don't know how else to write that without sounding even weirder.
Friesen was extremely close to her sister, who died much too young from cancer. The book was written following her loss about her thoughts and experience with grief. I'm sorry if my thoughts are scattered and jumbled, I'm working through compounded grief myself after 4 losses in less than two years. Friesen has been a Pastor for over 20 years and this mattered to me because I've been pissed off, confused and torn with God.
In the book, there are things to say and not say, how to keep going, how to make space for grief. You know, so many cultures have different ways of dealing with grief. These are my opinions here: We don't like the uncomfortable here in the US, grief is messy and unknown and we don't know how to handle it. What's worse is that we don't want to. When we lose someone, friends and relatives are there BRIEFLY. People stop asking how we're doing, they don't talk about memories with the passed one, they don't ask questions... just tiptoe around, don't ask if we're sleeping better, don't ask anything because God forbid we bring up something uncomfortable. Grief doesn't disappear in a month or two. We have to learn how to live with grief. But what matters to me is recognizing that I'm not leaving my loved ones behind, they're walking with me - forward.
Back to the book, I've read a bunch on grief lately and by far this has helped me the most. It's well written, articulate, gut wrenching but powerful. I feel like a hand is reaching out to me after reading it. I don't know how else to write that without sounding even weirder.
January 26, 2024
So in full transparency, Leanne Friesen is my sister-in-law - so I may be slightly biased, but Grieving Room is absolutely beautiful. This won't surprise anyone who knows me, but as I read it I wept through a box of tissues... I kid you not, this book guides the reader to holy ground.
Grieving Room is a capacious homage about what is it like to love amidst loss. Writing deeply through her journey with grief, Leanne graciously makes space for us to welcome the many, often surprising, painful realities of living after death and loss. As I said, I read much of Grieving Room in tears discovering I am not as alone as I had feared. It may sound odd to say a book about grief is filled with hope, but this one is; yet its hope comes in the form of moving toward grief not away from it. There’s old hymn which says, “Sorrow and love flow mingled down,�� this book holds both. If you know loss I commend Grieving Room to you, and after reading it, please hand it to a friend.”
Grieving Room is a capacious homage about what is it like to love amidst loss. Writing deeply through her journey with grief, Leanne graciously makes space for us to welcome the many, often surprising, painful realities of living after death and loss. As I said, I read much of Grieving Room in tears discovering I am not as alone as I had feared. It may sound odd to say a book about grief is filled with hope, but this one is; yet its hope comes in the form of moving toward grief not away from it. There’s old hymn which says, “Sorrow and love flow mingled down,�� this book holds both. If you know loss I commend Grieving Room to you, and after reading it, please hand it to a friend.”
July 15, 2025
This book is incredible. I am not exactly sure how I found it, but perhaps it found me. The first six months after my young mom died of a rare aggressive cancer I was feeling so numb. Reading this book this month has brought my first tears since the late December funeral (Where we sang Abide with Me!) and I feel like I am finally able to really process and grieve. I am forever thankful for Leanne's words and her willingness to share her story so authentically. I related to much in every single chapter, truly there were points at every turn where it felt like Leanne and I were on parallel journeys. I have related the concepts of the book to many other people as I have processed them and I am going to continue to revisit these topics in the months to come. I can't give this book enough stars or recommend it highly enough. I wish I could give Leanne a hug and thank her personally for the way her words have counseled me in this season.
March 7, 2024
Grieving room is a love letter to a precious sister gone too soon, and a testament to what a vulnerable and broken spirit can accomplish. In this heart-wrenching memoir, Friesen revisits Roxanne’s long battle with melanoma, inhabiting every corner of the devastating journey and its aftermath. By documenting the struggles she faces as she attempts to adapt to a new normal—a world without her sister—Friesen helps us to see ourselves in her story. We understand that we are not alone, or unusual in our cycling anger, disappointment and sorrow. This beautifully written book encourages us to accept that there is in fact no time limit on these things and that there is room enough, and grace, to grieve.
March 5, 2024
This book breathes words and life into the difficult journey of grief. More than a theoretical understanding, this beautifully written book comes from a place of lived experience. As a person who’s grieved a sibling, it is most helpful; as a pastor, it will hold a prominent space on my shelf of ‘go-to’ help books. This book needs to be required reading for seminary students preparing for pastoral ministry.
April 12, 2024
This has been an important book for me to absorb. I happened upon it at the library and will probably go get my own copy to work through the reflection activities at the end. It is helpful at processing personal grief and also explains very well how our society in general and our closer relationships often don't provide room for our grief. Plan to read this slowly and deliberately, with time to think about each chapter.
July 7, 2024
This book was incredible, I loved her wisdom and honesty and found myself in tears in several parts throughout the book because her words ring true. She gives practical advice on how to walk through grief but also how to help others along their grief journey. There were so many parts that validated my own experience and I think I may just buy a physical copy of this for my own library. Highly recommend.
October 1, 2024
Really insightful and honest takes on grief. I resonated with so much of this book. Leanne shares so much of herself here and it's wonderful to read as well as heart breaking.
I really connected to a lot of her story after going through a similar loss.
The book also gives ideas for processing grief through activities in the final chapter.
It is a little heavy on God and religion in parts and does include some prayers.
I really connected to a lot of her story after going through a similar loss.
The book also gives ideas for processing grief through activities in the final chapter.
It is a little heavy on God and religion in parts and does include some prayers.
February 27, 2024
With exquisite candor and thoughtfulness Ms. Friesen elucidates the inescapable realities of grief. But this is not just a helpful or inspiring or even a relieving book — this is a terrific primer on how to be human in surviving and enduring loss. (There are even some laughs!)
Recommended to all who have questions about this inevitably terrifying life that we still can’t seem to get enough of.
Recommended to all who have questions about this inevitably terrifying life that we still can’t seem to get enough of.
May 28, 2024
I wish I had this book while taking care of my MIL on hospice. Friesen named so many things I've felt but haven't been able to articulate about my grief. I cried while listening and will definitely be buying a physical copy. Highly recommend for anyone experiencing grief, especially if you've been wounded by other people during the process.
September 14, 2024
This was a really great book. However, as someone who is in deep grief, I found hearing the personal details of Roxanne’s story just too much for me. There are many things that can be helpful to someone grieving and someone supporting someone who is grieving. A book I’d recommend! I listened to the audiobook.
March 29, 2025
Grieving Room is such a tender book. In it, you will find the author a knowledgeable and tender guide to grief. Using her own story and experience, Friesen's book is practical, poignant, and touching. Whether you are walking through grief yourself, or you walk with others, this book is one you need to read!
May 22, 2024
This book helped me tremendously with my grief. It made me realize that all of the emotions I was feeling after the sudden death of my best friend was all the stages of grief, and it was ok to feel the way I did/do.
June 15, 2024
An important, meaningful read for anyone who has experienced loss. I appreciate the author's idea that we need to give ourselves and others the room to grieve at any time after loss...even years later; and in different ways.
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