
From Vol. 7, Issue 6, June 2025
How a Stoic consoles the grieving
Death is a natural part of life, and naturally, we are going to have to contend with not only our own death, but the death of those we deeply care about. In a similar way, we will also have to witness others—friends, family, people we care about—lose someone they love. In these moments, we’re often called to be a support, to console. But knowing what to say or do can be difficult.
This article explores exactly that: How does a Stoic console someone who is grieving?
To begin, it’s helpful to first consider what we should not do.
What not to do
What we should not do, especially when someone is freshly grieving, is lecture them about Stoic principles. It might sound counterintuitive, but preaching the virtues of Stoicism isn’t always the most Stoic thing to do. The hard truths Stoicism encourages us to face—such as the idea that death is an “indifferent”—are not always appropriate in the rawness of grief.
Consider how we withhold certain lessons from children until they are ready. Similarly, a grieving person—even one who practices Stoicism—may not be in a place to receive reminders about death being a natural, inevitable part of life. Timing matters. Wisdom is knowing not just what to say, but when and whether to say it.
Another thing we must avoid is emotional detachment. Stoicism is often misunderstood as emotional coldness. But the Stoic ideal is not to feel nothing—it is to master our emotions and act in accordance with virtue. And in the face of someone else’s grief, the virtuous thing is often to share in that emotional moment. That might mean holding space for their tears—or even shedding your own. You help them grieve by helping them grieve. You don’t float above them in rational detachment; you sit beside them in human connection.
What to do
Now that we’ve discussed what not to do, let’s turn to what we should do.
Start with simple acknowledgement. It might seem small, even unnecessary—but telling someone “I’m truly sorry for your loss” can mean a great deal. Those words matter. They show that you’re not dismissing their pain. You see it, and you care. But, of course, you must mean them. Sincerity can’t be faked.
It also helps to affirm the naturalness of grief. While Stoicism teaches that death is not to be feared, it doesn’t dismiss grief itself. In fact, grief is a natural response to love. The Stoic goal isn’t to suppress grief entirely, but to eventually channel it toward reflection, acceptance, and inner strength.
After some time has passed—perhaps when the initial shock has faded—it may be appropriate to gently introduce a Stoic perspective. And I emphasize gently. The grieving person is not a student in a philosophy class; they are someone in pain. As Stoics, we honour both reason and the emotional reality of the person in front of us.
This perspective might sound something like this: “None of us are promised forever. We don’t own the people we love—we borrow time with them. And while that time must end, the way they shaped us doesn’t. We carry them with us.”
Or this: “The grief is strong now. It may remain with you in some way. But life will also go on, and you will find a way forward. We have a surprising strength inside us—one we often don’t realize until life calls it out.”
This approach offers hope without pressure. It affirms the difficulty of the moment, while also holding space for future resilience.
The power of presence
The last point is perhaps the most important: you don’t need to say the perfect thing. You don’t need the ideal words or a brilliant insight. Death is hard. Full stop. There is no perfect response. The Stoic understands this.
So don’t underestimate the power of simply being there. You don’t need to fill the silence. You don’t need to fix the grief. Sometimes, the most supportive thing you can do is sit quietly beside someone, bearing witness to their pain without looking away.
In this presence—calm, respectful, loving—we live Stoic virtue more powerfully than with any quote or philosophical argument.
A final thought
Never say about anything, ‘I have lost it,’ but only, ‘I have given it back.’ - Epictetus, Enchiridion, 11
The people we love may no longer be with us physically—but their influence, their memory, their love—that lives on. And in helping someone carry that memory with grace, you are living the very heart of Stoicism.
Brandon is most well-known for his podcast, The Strong Stoic Podcast, where he discusses philosophical ideas both solo and with guests. He also coaches individuals to help them be their best selves, writes articles, plays music, manages projects, and several other things.