The River, the Waterfall, and the Rock Pool: A Better Way to Understand Grief

We’ve all been told about the "stages" of grief. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. It sounds like a neat little staircase you climb, checking off boxes until you reach the top and you're magically cured.

But anyone who has actually lost someone knows that is complete nonsense. Grief isn’t a staircase. It’s a river.

If you are struggling to make sense of the chaos inside your head right now, I want to share a different theory with you, one that makes a lot more sense than any textbook.

The Smooth Water

Before a major loss, your life is like a river running smoothly.

The water flows between the banks, predictable and calm. You know where you are going, your routine is steady, and the current carries you forward without much effort.

And then, without warning, the riverbed drops out from beneath you.

The Waterfall and the Rock Pool

The loss happens, and you go over the edge. It is a sudden, violent plunge.

You land at the bottom of the waterfall in what we call the rock pool. This is the place of early grief, and it is completely turbulent. The water is churning, white, and chaotic.

When you are in the rock pool, you have no control. You get rushed under. You get violently pushed against the sharp, jagged rocks at the sides. Just when you think you’ve surfaced for air, the force of the waterfall slams you back down again.

When people in the rock pool tell me, "John, I feel like I'm going crazy," I tell them no. You aren't going crazy. You are just at the bottom of the waterfall. The turbulence you are feeling is exactly what is supposed to happen when a life is shattered. You can't swim out of it, and you can't fight the current. You are just trying to survive the churn.

Coming Out the Other Side

But here is the most important part of this theory: The rock pool is not the end of the river.

Eventually, the water has to go somewhere. Very slowly, without you even realising it, the current begins to push you away from the chaotic white water. The river finds its banks again.

You do come out.

The river downstream won't look the same as it did before the waterfall. It might be deeper now. The landscape around it has changed completely. But the water becomes calmer. You stop hitting the rocks. You can breathe again.

Why You Can’t Rush the River

In my 22 years of nursing care, I’ve seen so many people try to force themselves out of the rock pool before they are ready. Society stands on the dry riverbank yelling at you to "move on" or "be strong."

But you cannot reason with a waterfall.

If you are currently in the turbulent, painful, breathless chaos of fresh loss, stop expecting yourself to swim perfectly. Right now, it’s just about staying afloat. The turbulence will not last forever. The river will widen out again. And until it does, you don't have to navigate the rough water alone.