It’s Hard to Grieve in Prison. This Guide Can Help

During a support group at San Quentin State Prison in 2019, Rev. Susan Shannon invited more than 30 men into a circle. For weeks, the group had been talking about grief and loss. On this day, Shannon handed out stacks of small, rose-shaped Post-it notes and told each person to write the names of people they’d lost. Then, one by one, the men spoke as if they were at a memorial service, saying what they needed to say through cheers and sobs before placing the notes on a table that became a makeshift altar.

At the end of the group, the men stood holding hands and imagining their deceased loved ones with them, promising to keep their memory alive in their hearts.

Research shows that grief is a hidden yet profound part of prison life. And, when ignored, it impacts people’s health and their chances of moving forward. A study of men incarcerated in Texas found a higher rate of depressive symptoms among those who experienced the death of a loved one in their last year of incarceration. Strong support systems — whether inside or outside prison — helped soften the impact. Research on women incarcerated in the northeastern U.S. shows how grief is often left unresolved because prison offered no physical or emotional space to process it.

Shannon, an interfaith chaplain who founded the Buddhist Prison Ministry, believes that helping people deal with their grief in prison can lead to better outcomes for those behind bars. “If we can show people how to grieve in prison, whether they're alone [or] whether they're with others,” she said. “Whatever it is, it's going to turn things around.”

This guide offers simple practices for dealing with grief in the confines of prison. The exercises work in many places: on your own in your bunk, in a noisy unit, or even while you’re lining up and moving from one place to another. You can also practice these alongside others who are remembering someone who has passed away.

When grief hits your body

You’ve just gotten a death notice or a terrible call. You feel like you can’t breathe or stop crying. Your body might shake or go numb. You might also shut down or lash out.

These reactions fit within what’s called the “window of tolerance,” Shannon explained, a term coined by Dr. Daniel Siegel, a clinical professor of psychiatry at UCLA, to describe the range where we can handle strong emotions. When we’re pushed outside that window, she said, people are “either going to act in, or they’re going to act out.” In prison, that can mean holding everything in until it explodes.

Move your body gently

“Just moving your body, getting your blood running” can help release grief, Shannon said. If you’re able, try slow laps in the yard, wall push-ups or pressing your feet firmly into the floor and noticing the ground beneath you.

You can also try these grounding poses Shannon often shares with her students and clients in every setting, both inside and outside prison.

• Hand on belly, hand on heart: Sit or lie down. Place one hand on your lower belly and one on your heart. Breathe slowly and deeply.
• Crossed wrists over your heart: Cross your wrists, palms facing you, and bring them to your chest. Fan your fingers out so they touch the front of your shoulders. Your longest finger should naturally land in the small groove below each shoulder, a spot tied to releasing grief. Hold yourself for a few moments and breathe slowly.

Try a simple breathing practice

Laura Musselman, an end-of-life doula and the director of development and communications for the Humane Prison Hospice Project, where she trains incarcerated peer caregivers in hospice, palliative and geriatric care, recommends a simple breath technique called box breathing. It’s meant to release tension and calm you down.

Try this:

• Inhale and count to 4 seconds.
• Hold your breath for 4 seconds.
• Exhale for 4 seconds.
• Hold your breath again after exhaling for 4 seconds.

You can repeat this cycle however many times you like. You can do it anywhere.

Listen from your “three centers”

Originally created by Buddhist teacher Pamela Weiss, this mindfulness practice helps people notice what’s happening in their bodies when emotions feel strong — a tool the Humane Prison Hospice Project often uses in their curriculum.

Take a few slow breaths, pausing briefly after each inhale and exhale. As you breathe, move your attention between these three places:

• Mind: Notice any thoughts as they arise, without judging them.
• Heart: Pay attention to feelings or sensations in your chest area.
• Body: Bring awareness to any tightness, heaviness or warmth in the rest of your body.

When you’re done, take one last breath and think about what stood out the most.

When you have no privacy

You’re in a cell or crowded unit. People are always watching. You feel the tears building, but showing that much emotion around others doesn’t feel safe.

“Prisons are not built for privacy or processing through really complex things like grief,” said Musselman. When grief has to be quietly carried or pushed down, that “absolutely compounds trauma.”

Look for moments of solitude, not perfect privacy

True privacy is rare in prison, so the goal is to catch even brief moments that feel like yours.

That might look like:

• Turning your back to the room for a few breaths
• Putting your head down on your bunk for a minute
• Staring out a small window or a fixed point on the wall and letting your mind drift for a moment

Chapels, libraries and the yard often have quieter corners where you might have a better chance of finding a moment to yourself.

Let yourself grieve in your own way

Prison culture often teaches men to hide their emotions, explained Shannon. “Men are often told not to cry,” she said, adding that tears are often seen as weakness inside.

If crying doesn’t feel safe, you can still grieve by:

• Writing (if you’re allowed paper) or composing poems, songs or letters in your head
• Humming quietly or repeating a phrase that reminds you of your person
• Remembering a joke, nickname or a line of advice they used to give you

The simple act of keeping them alive in your heart and mind can soften the harshness of their absence.

When someone you love dies on the outside, and you couldn’t say goodbye

A parent, child, partner or close friend dies while you’re locked up. Maybe no one told you right away. Maybe you couldn’t attend the funeral. You’re grieving and feeling guilty for not being there.

Use a grief journal with simple prompts

At Central California Women’s Facility, a group of incarcerated peer caregivers called Comfort Care put together a small grief journal for people in their unit. They’re volunteers who look after other residents, especially people who are older, seriously ill or going through loss. The journal has short prompts meant to help you sort through your feelings on your own.

You can try some of the same prompts:

• “A memory of us that I can’t forget…”
• “Things we loved to do together…”
• “Things I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t…”
• “The best day we had together…”
• “Things that made you angry…”
• “A funny memory I have of you…”

If you don’t have or can’t keep paper, you can still run through one or two of these prompts in your head at night.

Write letters to say what you need to

Shannon reminds people that even though “your beloveds are beyond time and space now. You can still say things to them… It doesn’t stop because they died.” Letters can be a way to do that. You can start with:

• “I remember…”
• “I’m sorry that…”
• “I’m grateful that…”

Use story time as a ritual, even if it’s just you

Shannon found that sometimes telling stories was even more powerful than writing. If you have someone you trust, share one small story about your person — like something they said, did or loved — to feel close to them again.

If you’re alone, run through the story quietly or in your head. Picture where it happened, what they were wearing, what they said. Let yourself sit with the memory for a moment.

When someone in your unit or cell dies (or you see something traumatic)

A neighbor or cellmate dies. Maybe you witnessed a suicide or medical emergency. You might feel numb, haunted by what you saw, or stuck in “I should have…” thoughts.

Try a small “Post-it” memorial if it’s safe to gather

If your facility allows small groups, Shannon’s ritual at San Quentin offers a model for dealing with this kind of grief:

• Give each person a small piece of paper to write the names of those they’re grieving.
• Sit or stand in a circle with a table or shelf as a makeshift altar.
• Each person says the name and one thing they want remembered, then places their paper on the table.
• Others can respond with silence or “We remember.”
• End by joining hands or resting a hand on a shoulder, breathing together and picturing those people in the center.

You don’t need a large group; even two or three people can do a smaller version.

Create personal memorials when you can’t organize a group

When formal services aren’t possible, Musselman suggests making your own personal memorial: moments of silence, drawing, writing or holding keepsakes.

You might:

• Dedicate a workout, walk or prayer to the person.
• Pick one time each week to say their name or think of them.
• Get someone’s favorite snack or food from the commissary.
• Try doing one of their rituals (for example, if they drank coffee at weird hours, you can do that in their memory).

Ask for a chaplain or peer-caregiver support

Having someone who understands loss “in an isolated, traumatizing environment… is like tenfold” more important, Musselman said. If it feels safe, you can:

• Ask to see the chaplain or a spiritual care worker.
• See if there are peer caregivers or grief groups where you are.

When grief feels endless because you’ve lost everything

You may be grieving not just one person, but the whole situation behind bars: years away from children, relationships that have changed, declining health or the life you once had.

The river exercise: naming all the losses you’re carrying

This exercise will help you map out everything you’re holding in — the losses that stacked up over time, making grief feel endless. The purpose of the exercise is to help “turn the frozen river of grief into the flowing river of mourning,” Shannon said, where what you’ve lost can be integrated in your mind.

Here’s how to try it:

• Draw or picture a line. That’s your river.
• Start putting losses into the river: People who have died, roles you’ve lost, childhood memories, pets you’re missing, opportunities you’ve missed out on, parts of yourself that feel frozen or changed. Add them in any order.
• When you’re done, pause and look at everything you’ve placed there.
• Take a moment for self-compassion. Notice how much you’ve carried. Recognize that others around you carry their own rivers too.
• Then ask yourself a few questions to help the river move instead of staying frozen:
• When I look at this river, does it feel frozen, flowing, or somewhere in between?
• What would help this begin to thaw, even a little?
• What practices in this guide might help this grief move instead of staying stuck?

When someone you care about is taken to the hospital

Sometimes a neighbor or friend is suddenly taken to the infirmary or a hospital. You may not get updates or see them again. That helplessness can feel crushing, especially when you’ve shared years, a cell block or routines.

Shannon emphasized that even from afar, you can still offer care. If someone close to you has been taken to the hospital, and you can’t be with them, try:

• Imagining them held in ease, warmth or steady breathing
• Picturing a small act of comfort like offering a bowl of noodles, reading their favorite scripture or sitting quietly beside them
• Sending a prayer, intention, or caring thought, regardless of what you believe
• Trusting that connection and compassion can still be felt, even from a distance