What Harry and Meghan Teach Us About the Art of Grieving

Instead of thinking, “I’ve heard all this, let’s move on” in response to Harry and Meghan’s tell-all documentary and Harry’s autobiographical exposé, Spare, we might be better off looking in the mirror as we examine how well we individually and collectively grieve our losses.

As an organizational grief consultant and grief advocate, I consider Harry’s story and the story of the couple as master classes on what I’ve come to call "the art of grieving." Here’s what I mean:

First, we can admit the reactions to Harry and Meghan’s departure from royal duties and subsequent productions to tell their “side of the story” might be expected. It’s common for grieving people to be considered “disloyal” when expressing “details of their private emotional turmoil,” in and especially outside their family structures. Yet, storytelling is an important art form to help metabolize the oft-confusing feelings surrounding loss and to memorialize grief. As writer Maya Angelou put it, “There is no agony like bearing an untold story inside of you.”

Next, Harry tells us, “I couldn’t cry.” He blamed himself that the only time he cried over the loss of his mother, Diana, in a car accident when he was 12 years old was at her funeral. Later he realized, “I learned too well…the family maxim that crying is not an option.”

My friend Pam, who is not a member of the royal family, told me that her mother, during the morning of her father’s funeral in Pennsylvania, brought her and her three sisters into the living room and said, “Now, I don’t want to see any tears at this funeral.” Yet, crying is an important emotional release. Stuffing tears and sorrows drives emotions underground, only to arise at inopportune times, affecting our energy and enthusiasm for life.

Grief is not a solo affair. The support of a community gets us through a significant loss. But young Harry could not connect with that support due to the media spotlight and demands of his fishbowl life.

Regarding Diana’s funeral, Harry said, “When I see the videos, my brother and I are smiling and shaking hands with people, and I remember the people’s hands are wet from wiping away their own tears.” He also didn’t realize that, through the magic of global media, people all around the world were crying on his behalf, including most likely you and me.

Harry shared a common but not often discussed occurrence when dealing with grief. “I thought Mum was still alive.” Perhaps she was in hiding from the paparazzi that pursued her to her “death,” and she would come for him. That hope postponed his grieving.

In her book, The Year of Magical Thinking, Joan Didion mentioned that she couldn't give his shoes away for some time after her husband’s death because “He might need them when he comes back.”

In her book, The Grieving Brain, Mary-Francis O'Connor explains how this can operate. “If a person we love is missing, then our brain assumes they are far away and will be found later.”

Harry’s story illustrates several other, not widely known principles of good grieving. For example, he now sees his life as dedicated to changing the system, the media pursuit of his family members and other celebrities that caused his mother’s death and nearly cost Meghan hers. This dedication to keeping others from the same fate is known as "co-destiny," a process first identified by physician Joseph Kasper after the loss of his son. It encourages us to view death as a catalyst for change and gives the surviving person’s life a purpose and the family’s suffering a purpose as well.

Like many people who must stuff feelings, grieve alone, and fight the inner battle between truth and reality, Harry tried to outrun his feelings through sex, drugs, and alcohol. Eventually, he found a meaningful identity by serving his country in the military and, as his mother did, helping people less fortunate in Africa. This, and similar missions he shares with Meghan, will likely be their future. Despite his difficulties, we see Harry maturely learn to grieve well, a practice that produces post-traumatic growth.

I’m not sure when or how we went from imitating the extensive grieving practices of Victorian England when Queen Victoria wore mourning black for 40 years after the death of her beloved Albert, to requiring the stoicism and silence that Harry and Meghan have gone against and are being punished for now. Still, dysfunction, even estrangement, in a family after the death of an important member is quite common. Painful as it is, families are only as sick as their secrets. That’s why I believe Spare can help to spare future generations from the unnecessary suffering that occurs when grief is driven underground. If we learn the art of grieving, we can transcend loss and experience our best life now.

A version of this post also appears on LinkedIn.