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Around four years into living with Alzheimer’s, my mom fractured her hip, and she wasn’t in a state—mentally or physically—to recover from surgery. She became bedridden, and it marked the beginning of the end of her life. By then, Alzheimer’s had erased so much of her personality and cognitive abilities; she was no longer able to speak (at least not more than a few words at a time), she had to be fed, and with her recent hip injury, she was immobilized.

I had journaled every morning for a few years already (thanks to The Artist’s Way), but when I realized that my mom and I would never have another conversation, even though she was still technically alive, I started writing to her in my journal. Nothing fancy. Just a bit about my day and about how I was feeling about losing her.

I wrote while she was still alive, as her world got smaller and the possibility of losing her became harder to keep at a distance. I continued writing to her in my journal after she died, too. I still do it today. At some point, my journal became a record of ordinary things I might otherwise have forgotten, alongside thoughts I sometimes felt ashamed for having.

I didn’t start because someone recommended grief journaling, although a therapist did recommend writing letters to my mom to continue communicating with her when she stopped speaking. I didn’t think of it as grief journaling at the time.

You don’t need to know what you’re supposed to get out of a grief journal. You can begin with one sentence about today. Or, if there’s someone you wish you could speak to, you can begin with their name.

What is grief journaling?

Grief journaling is writing about a loss and what it’s like to live with it. You might write about the person you miss, a memory you want to keep, how you’re feeling today, or something you wish you could tell them. It can be a letter, a list, or a few sentences in your phone. You might also find yourself writing about things that feel too ugly to say out loud. That’s OK.

You can start before someone dies, too. When my mom had Alzheimer’s, I was grieving changes in our relationship while she was still here. Anticipatory grief—a term I had never heard before all this. You may write through a breakup, an illness, or an identity shift when life no longer looks the way you expected.

There’s no required schedule or right thing to say. You don’t have to share what you write, and you don’t have to find meaning in it. It’s simply about the process.

How grief journaling helped me

At first, I wrote to my mom while she was still alive. Alzheimer’s had made our conversations unpredictable, but in my journal, I could tell her what was happening in my life without wondering whether she would understand or remember it. I could also write about what was happening to her, and how hard it was to watch.

After she died, I kept writing to her. Although I didn’t start my entries with “Mom,” I used “you” instead of “Mom,” because it felt more natural and, in retrospect, more soothing than writing about her, as though she were suddenly only a subject in a story. Some days I had a lot to say. Other days, I jotted down how I slept the night before or complained about something my boyfriend did that annoyed me.

I’m glad I have those pages now. They hold details from her final months that I might have lost otherwise. Things she did, things I noticed, special moments we had, and things I was thinking (that felt ugly or contradictory) before I knew how things would unfold. As I write about my mom in my work-in-progress memoir, I can return to what I actually felt at the time instead of relying entirely on what I remember now.

I can’t say journaling made losing her easier, but it gave me somewhere to keep talking to her—even after she died.

Will grief journaling make you feel better?

It has helped me, but I’m wary of telling someone who is grieving that writing will make them feel better. For me, the journal has been a place to say things to my mom and to keep a record of a time I was afraid I’d forget. I can’t confirm that it reduced my grief, but it helped—and continues to help—me get through it. I’ve learned that grief doesn’t have a clean start and end date. It’s continuous, maybe forever. It’s love without a place to go.

I wouldn’t suggest grief journaling as something you need to do to “heal.” You might find that writing gives you somewhere to put a thought you keep circling or helps you remember a detail about someone you love. You might try it and decide you’d rather talk, walk, make something, or sit quietly. That’s OK, too.

How to start grief journaling

You can start with whatever is closest: a notebook, the Notes app on your phone, a document on your computer. Pick something you can open without making a project of it. You don’t need a new journal, a daily routine, or even a plan to keep going.

If a blank page is starting back at you, just write one sentence about today. What happened? What do you miss? What annoyed you? You can make a list of things you remember about someone or write down a detail you’re afraid of forgetting. You can stop after a minute. You also don’t have to reread any of it.

Try writing to the person you miss

This is how I began writing about my mom. Instead of trying to explain my feelings about her and what we were all going through, I started writing to her.

Then I wrote what I would have told her if we’d been able to have that conversation. Sometimes that meant writing about her or about us. Sometimes it meant telling her about my day.

You can try the same thing with the name you would normally use. Tell them something small that happened this week. Ask a question you still have. Write about something that made you laugh, or something you’re angry about. The letter doesn’t have to be finished, and it doesn’t have to say anything profound.

If writing starts to feel overwhelming, then stop. Come back another time, or don’t. I’ll leave it to you to decide what feels useful and what doesn’t.

25 grief journaling prompts

You don’t have to work through these in order, or at all. But if you’re looking for inspiration or a starting point, pick one that resonates with you today, but feel free to tweak it so it works for you.

When you don’t know what to write

1. What happened today that I wish I could tell them?

2. What has been the hardest part of this week?

3. What is one thing I’m tired of explaining to other people?

4. If I wrote only three words about today, what would they be?

5. What do I need right now that I haven’t asked for?

Writing to the person you miss

6. What ordinary thing would I tell you about if I could call you today?

7. What question do I still want to ask you?

8. What have I been wanting to say to you but keep putting off writing down?

9. What would make you laugh about my life right now?

10. Is there something I’m angry with you about, even though I miss you?

Memories you want to keep

11. What small habit of theirs do I never want to forget?

12. What did their voice sound like when they were excited, irritated, or trying not to laugh?

13. What memory of us wouldn’t mean much to anyone else?

14. What did they do that I didn’t appreciate until later?

15. Is there a story about them that I’ve told so often I’m afraid I’m forgetting the rest?

Complicated feelings

16. What am I relieved about, and why is it hard to say?

17. What do I wish had been different between us?

18. When have I felt guilty for enjoying myself?

19. What am I angry about today? Does the answer change from day to day?

20. What part of my grief feels hardest to share with someone else?

Grieving before and after a loss

21. What has already changed, and what is still here?

22. What did I think I would have more time to do or say?

23. What is one detail about this period of our lives I want to record while I remember it?

24. What feels different about an ordinary day now?

25. What do I want to tell them about the person I’m becoming?

What if writing makes you feel worse?

Sometimes writing brings me closer to something I wasn’t ready to address. It’s hard, but I like to keep going. If that happens to you, you can choose to stop. It doesn’t mean you’ve failed at grief journaling.

You could also write about something less painful: what you ate together, a phrase they used, or what the room looked like the last time you visited. You can make a list of facts without trying to explain how you feel about them. And if even that feels like too much, just stop. It’s all up to you.

A journal can be somewhere to put your thoughts, but if your grief is making it hard to get through everyday life, tell someone you trust and consider speaking with a mental health professional. This guide is not meant to be medical advice.

You don’t have to turn grief into a lesson

When I look back through my journal, I’m not searching for proof that I’ve grown from losing my mom. I’m looking for her. I’m looking for the little things I noticed while she was still here, and for what I wanted to tell her after she died.

Some entries will become part of the memoir I’m writing, but I’ll keep many just for me. I’m glad I have them either way.

If you start a grief journal, you don’t have to find the right words or arrive at a new understanding by the end of the page. It can be as messy or neat as it needs to be—see what feels best to you. You can write down what happened. You can tell someone you miss that you miss them. Then, if you want to, you can do it again another day.