As a counselor working within the walls of a prison, death is an inevitable part of life—but the emotional weight of it is often overlooked, especially when it involves incarcerated individuals. During my time working in the criminal justice system, I’ve experienced death from many perspectives: former clients murdered months after their release, clients who died by suicide both in the community and inside prison, clients who died from drug overdoses, and clients grieving the death of a loved one while incarcerated.
In these situations, I often find myself in the role of the observer—not the grieving parent, spouse, or partner receiving the call that someone they love has died behind bars, or the one hearing from law enforcement that a former client was gunned down at a red light. All I can do is provide a nonjudgmental space to hold grief, however it shows up. But death inside prison is jarring for many reasons.
The Isolation of Grief in Prison
One of the most painful aspects is the isolation—whether it’s the incarcerated person or their loved ones experiencing the loss. Many of my clients don’t get the chance to say goodbye. There are no final hospital visits, no funerals, no shared mourning surrounded by family and friends. Most hear the news through a phone call or video visit, then return to a space where showing too much vulnerability can be dangerous.
One client told me how hard it was to grieve because there’s never a moment to fully acknowledge it. Grief must be hidden—to avoid appearing weak in front of others, to avoid misinterpretation by correctional officers, to avoid feeding into the stigma that says, “You wouldn’t be going through this if you weren’t in prison.”
Grief Doesn’t Discriminate
People often forget that incarcerated individuals are still human beings—humans with emotions, families, and real pain. Just as my clients sometimes assume that because I’m a counselor, I must never experience emotional conflict, society often assumes incarcerated people are emotionless or deserving of their suffering. But mental health doesn't discriminate. And mourning, especially, is a huge part of it.
Understanding the Stages of Grief in Prison
One tool I often use when working with clients in mourning is Elisabeth Kübler-Ross’s five stages of grief (1969): denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Understanding these stages doesn’t make the pain go away, but it helps people better recognize their needs and responses during grief.
1. Denial
Denial is the difficulty in accepting the reality of loss. It may not always sound like “I can’t believe this happened.” Sometimes it’s more subtle: denial of emotional, financial, or spiritual impacts. For many of my clients who lose a maternal figure or caregiver while incarcerated, they may intellectually accept the death but only feel its full weight months later—when they seek emotional guidance and realize that voice is no longer there.
2. Anger
Anger is often considered a secondary emotion, rooted in hurt, disappointment, guilt, or shame. In prison, anger can become a way to express grief when more vulnerable emotions feel unsafe. I’ve seen clients respond to loss with aggression, leading to consequences like restrictive housing, lost privileges, or even new charges.
When the dust settles and I ask, “What happened?” the answer is often, “My cousin was shot and killed. If I was out there, that wouldn’t have happened.” And suddenly, we’re not just processing grief—we're sitting in guilt, regret, shame, and helplessness.
3. Bargaining
Bargaining involves a desperate attempt to change the outcome or minimize pain. In children, it sounds like, “I promise I’ll clean my room if you bring her back.” In adults, it can be harder to spot: “If I don’t get close to anyone, I won’t lose anyone again,” or “If I hadn’t been in that situation, none of this would’ve happened.” These internal negotiations often reflect our desire for control in the face of powerlessness.
4. Depression
This stage brings sadness, hopelessness, and disconnection. It can look like low motivation, loss of appetite, trouble concentrating, or frequent crying spells. This is especially hard in prison, where people are expected to maintain the same behavioral standards and productivity despite personal loss. Depression sets in when there’s no room to slow down.
Having at least three supportive, emotionally safe people is critical in this stage. They help identify when normal sadness is turning into deeper depression or suicidal ideation. Suicide is terrifying—but we must talk about it, not treat it like something taboo.
A 2005 study found that widowers are at a higher risk of completed suicide, while widows have higher rates of suicidal ideation. Social support was a significant factor in both cases, underscoring the importance of connection in times of mourning (Stroebe, Schut, & Stroebe, 2005, Journal of Affective Disorders).
5. Acceptance
Acceptance is not about being "okay" with the loss—it’s about learning to live with it. For many incarcerated individuals, it feels impossible. I often hear things like, “I don’t deserve to laugh or smile after my grandmother died while I was locked up.” That internalized shame makes joy feel like betrayal.
In Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT), there’s a phrase I use often: “Both can be true.” You can miss someone deeply and still laugh with friends. You can feel angry and still love the person you lost. For example, if a loved one died from an overdose, you can be furious at the addiction and still cherish your memories with them. Grief contains multitudes.
Grief is Not Linear
Recognizing the stages of grief and showing compassion—both to ourselves and others—is monumental. There’s a graphic I often share with clients that illustrates grief as a ball inside a jar: initially we assume the grief grows smaller, however the jar just get bigger. The grief doesn’t shrink—we just grow around it.
Grief is messy, nonlinear, and deeply human. And even inside prison walls, where time feels frozen, grief continues to move. When we learn how to ride its waves, we begin to make space for healing.
Resources:
-
On Death and Dying by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross (1969)
-
Stroebe, M., Schut, H., & Stroebe, W. (2005). "A model of coping with bereavement." Journal of Affective Disorders
-
National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) – Support for mental health and suicide prevention
Add comment
Comments