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Losing a child at any age is devastating. But when a child dies as an adolescent, the grief can feel especially layered. You’re grieving the time you shared together as well as who they were becoming. Your child likely had significant milestones approaching.
Any metaphor we try to come up with will ultimately be inadequate to describe this loss. But if we did, we might say that it’s a bit like hearing a beautiful and unpredictable song that is building toward something powerful—then suddenly the music stops mid-chorus. There is no resolution. No final notes. Just silence that comes way too soon.
One of the more difficult aspects of losing an adolescent is the emotional whiplash it brings.
The emotional weight of losing a teenager
If your grief feels overwhelming, disorienting, or even unbearable, you’re not alone. Therapist Ron L. Deal lost his son Connor, who was 12. Ron says:
It’s sort of like an earthquake. And then—aftershock, aftershock, aftershock, aftershock, aftershock. We’re 12 years in now, and we still have aftershocks. They’re different now, sure—but they’re still significant. They’ve changed our family. They’ve changed how we see life and how we live it. We’ve been forever changed by the quake itself.
There’s just so much to cope with. You do the best you can. And then, as people say, you get to the end of that first year and you think, “Okay, I survived it.” But then you wake up and realize—yeah. Now I have to do it all over again.
Many grieving parents say the same thing: The aftershocks keep coming, long after others expect calm. If you’ve only just begun this journey, testimonials like Ron’s might feel discouraging. But much like in an earthquake, the aftershocks begin to diminish. That was Ron’s experience, though he’s still realistic:
For my wife it was about three or four years of intense suffering. And then the intensity begins to diminish a little bit. But you’re still suffering. Like, you’re still walking through life thinking, “I just can’t believe this is my world.”
Nan, Ron’s wife, describes her intense suffering:
My journey of grief took me from this deep, deep sadness to despair. There was a season where I did think about taking my life. And then it just turned into all the whys—turned into an anger and a bitterness toward God. I felt abandoned by God. I felt like Scripture didn’t make sense.
So many people were praying, and God said “no”—or didn’t intervene the way I wanted Him to. And I felt abandoned. I got angry. I got bitter. I got resentful. And that just turned my heart away from what I would call the light—and toward the dark.
Not everyone who loses a teenager will experience these same emotions. Some go numb. Others feel guilt, or collapse into exhaustion. Grief can take many forms—and all of them can feel overwhelming. That can be important to remember if you are grieving alongside a spouse.
Ron and Nan had the same loss, but they dealt with it differently. They described it like being in an ocean and unable to get to one another. “You’re just drowning with weight,” Ron said. “I’m somewhat aware she’s just an arm’s length away, but I can’t get to her. I can’t swim to her.”
Nan described it this way: “You’re in shock. You’re barely functioning. But I felt like I was in the ocean, choking on the waves, unable to get to Ron or the boys.”
Even in the same house, grief can look different. But what’s often shared, whether it’s spoken or not, is the weight of what has been lost. It’s not only the child you are grieving, but also the shared time you thought you’d have ahead. The graduations, the weddings, the ordinary days you thought you’d have together.
Surviving a grief like this is difficult. But in time, many grieving parents begin to find ways not to erase the grief, but to live with it. Many parents have found there are strategies to cope and to keep going—even when the unthinkable happens.
How people cope (even when they think they can’t)
Coping with grief is a bit like using a toolbox. No one tool works for every job. Some days you’ll need a wrench, others a screwdriver. One thing might work for a while and then stop providing benefits. Some things that wouldn’t be helpful in the beginning stages of grief might be a lifeline at a later period. And, let’s be honest, some days no tool will work. That’s why this section isn’t a manual—it’s a collection of tools that other parents have found useful. Try what helps. Leave what doesn’t.
1. Give room for your emotions
Grief isn’t just one emotion; it’s many. And sometimes you’ll experience seemingly contradictory emotions in a short span of time. Some parents feel devastated and weep daily (that was Nan’s experience). Others feel more numb and wonder if they’re broken. You might feel envy of other families, anger towards others, overwhelming guilt, or even fury toward God.
Reese spiraled into a depression. He said, “It was like I was in a whirlpool. At first, I could see the top, but I kept getting pulled deeper. I never hit bottom. Just deeper and deeper.” Part of Reese’s difficulty was that grief and memory became entangled. He shares:
I told myself that as long as I was in pain, I would remember [my son]. I wouldn’t forget anything else about him. So I decided I needed to stay in pain.
That belief led him to isolate himself and to shut off any feeling except pain. He didn’t allow himself to feel the full gamut of emotions. Reese soon learned that he didn’t have to hide his grief. Not from God. And not from the people who loved him. When he gave room for his emotions, even the uncomfortable ones, he began to heal.
2. Do the next thing
If you’re in the beginning of your grief journey, you might have been intimidated by Ron and Nan speaking in terms of “years.” You’re wondering how you can make it to tomorrow much less 3–4 years down the road. And that’s okay. You can’t get to “3 years down the road” today. You can only take one step at a time.
Grief can make even the smallest tasks feel impossible. For some, laundry piles up, dishes sit in the sink, and the idea of planning dinner or making a phone call feels miles out of reach. In those moments, the best thing you can do is to simply ask, “What’s the next thing I can do?”
That could be as simple as brushing your teeth, opening a window to let in some fresh air, or making a sandwich. One foot in front of the other, even when your heart isn’t in it. You don’t have to feel strong to take the next small step. And taking that step doesn’t mean you’re forgetting your loved one, it just means you’re still here. Healing often looks like bouncing between deep sorrow and small steps of daily life.
3. Be present with your other children
Grieving while parenting is one of the hardest challenges after losing a child. You may feel as if you have nothing left to give. But your other children are grieving too—and they need you. That doesn’t mean you have to be perfect. It just means that your presence matters. Counselor Dr. Paul Tautges offers this wise reminder:
Under the weight of your grief, you may find it difficult to parent your other children. But they need you now more than ever. Yes, others may minister to them—but God has appointed you as their first responder. Walk with them in the pain. Weep with them. Pray with them. Talk openly. Let them grieve without feeling like they have to perform for you.
Reese remembers a moment when he had to make a choice:
I was slowly wasting away, just sitting in a recliner in the corner of my room. I’d see my kids go by, but I wasn’t part of their lives. They were moving forward, and I was stuck—avoiding the death of my son. I thought staying in pain would help me remember him. But I was forgetting things anyway.
His breakthrough came slowly, but attending to his children helped him pursue healing. Staying connected to your children doesn’t just help them—it can be a lifeline for you too. You’re walking through this loss together. And over time these shared moments can be part of the story of healing for both of you.
4. Marking their legacy
For many parents, doing something to honor their teen becomes a lifeline. It’s a way to express the love that you continue to feel for them. 
Ron and Nan found this to be true after the death of their son, Connor. In time, they started giving away LEGO sets to children’s hospitals (Connor had loved building with LEGO). They even helped build a therapeutic art center—built in the shape of three connected LEGO pieces—for rescued children in West Africa—designed in Connor’s honor.
It doesn’t erase the pain, but it gives it shape. And it reminds them that Connor’s life mattered, and it still does. Marking their legacy doesn’t have to be big either. It can be as simple as keeping a journal, planting a tree, donating to a cause, or engaging in a birthday ritual. What matters is that it reflects your child and your love for them.
Moving forward doesn’t mean forgetting
One of the difficult parts of this grief is the quiet expectation others may have that you need to move on at some point. Because teen deaths are often unexpected and not widely understood, many parents feel their grief is unacknowledged—or worse, rushed. People may not say it aloud, but as they return to what’s “normal” for them, the pressure builds that you need to follow suit.
That was what kept Reese from pursuing healing. He was afraid that moving on would mean forgetting his son. But it doesn’t mean forgetting, it means learning to live with your grief. Reese eventually found that healing didn’t mean letting go, it just meant that his love for his son would have to take a new shape.
For many parents, they express their love through marking their legacy (as mentioned earlier). For others, healing goes deeper when they start offering hope to someone else. Reese found help in a support group called GriefShare. He now leads a group. He shares, “I kept going back, session after session. I saw slow changes in myself. And now I help others—and there’s healing in that, too.”
This grief will change you. But you are not beyond hope. You are not alone, and you don’t have to do this alone. Maybe, like Reese, your next step is finding a group of others who understand your grief. If that’s you, consider joining a GriefShare group near you. There you’ll find practical tools, biblical truth, and a compassionate space to walk the path of healing.
To find a group, visit griefshare.org.