Is it normal to grieve deeply after every aged care resident's death?

In the heartfelt world of aged care, where every resident’s story becomes part of a carer’s own, the death of those in their charge leaves a lasting mark. A raw and honest question from an aged care worker that was posed in the Aged Care Worker Support Group on Facebook ignited a wave of responses that lay bare the emotional weight of the job.

The question, “Is it normal to grieve deeply after every aged care resident’s death?”, strikes at the core of what it means to care deeply. Drawing on the moving insights from this group, we delve into whether constant grief is part of the gig, if workers ever grow numb to loss, or if they find ways to weave peace into their pain while cherishing their compassion.

Why grief feels so raw

The resounding chorus from aged care workers is that grieving deeply isn’t just normal, it’s proof of the bonds forged through daily acts of kindness. “It shows you have a heart,” one carer with six years in the field shared, a view echoed across the group. A veteran with 35 years of experience reflected, “Every passing is difficult.

The bonds we form with these beautiful men and women are undeniable.” These words capture the essence of grief as a natural extension of connection, born from shared laughs, quiet moments, or the privilege of being there in a resident’s final days.

The sting of loss varies with its suddenness. “The harder ones are the sudden ones because you’re not prepared for it,” one worker noted, while another found solace in expected passings: “Sometimes expected death gives a sense of peace because you saw how much suffering they went through.”

Yet, whether sudden or anticipated, the emotional ripple effect lingers. A carer with 22 years of experience admitted, “I don’t think you lose that grief,” while another with 14 years added, “It’s still very hard for each one we lose.”

Does the heart ever harden?

With death a constant companion in aged care, many wonder if the pain dulls over time. The group’s responses suggest that for most, grief remains a steadfast shadow. “Been doing this 3 years and I still can’t deal with a death,” one carer confessed. “It’s like losing part of me.”

Even those with decades of service feel the weight. “35 years here, it’s still hard when we lose a resident we care for,” another shared. Yet, some describe a subtle shift, not numbness, but a way of carrying the grief differently. “It becomes easier as time goes on,” one worker said. “I now talk to them and tell them it’s OK to go, especially when they are struggling.”

Rituals help bridge this emotional gap. A carer with 30 years of experience shared, “I talk to them as I’m washing them, open a window, and put a flower in their hands.” These small acts transform grief into a tender farewell, offering a way to honour residents while finding a sliver of closure.

Weaving peace into the pain

Many workers find solace by reframing death as a release from suffering or a joyful reunion beyond. “I picture the person happy and smiling, reunited with their loved ones that have passed,” one carer wrote. “It eases the grief for me.”

Others cherish the privilege of their role. “It’s an honour to help our dear residents to pass,” a worker reflected, turning sorrow into a sacred duty.

Post-mortem care becomes a canvas for closure. “When laying someone out, I look at it as my way of saying goodbye,” one carer shared. “It’s a special privilege that us carers get.” Some go further, attending funerals or placing cherished items, like a favourite photo or hat, with the resident.

“I always find their favourite clothes and something special to put with them,” a worker explained, noting how she says goodbye aloud in the resident’s room before it’s reassigned.

The power of support

The heavy toll of grief highlights the need for a strong support network. Workers frequently pointed to the strength found in colleagues. “I hope you have a great bunch of co-workers you can lean on, that’s what keeps me going,” one wrote. Counselling was also a recurring theme.

“Does the facility have counselling you can access?” a carer asked, while another urged, “Make sure to talk about how you feel. I’m sure there will be others feeling the same.”

Yet, not all workplaces are supportive. One worker shared a stinging experience: “I have been told I’m unprofessional because their passing upsets me. I’d rather be classed as unprofessional than uncaring.”

This reveals a lingering stigma around emotional vulnerability, underscoring the need for workplaces to embrace grief as a natural part of caring.

A badge of love

The voices in the support group weave a clear narrative: grieving deeply is not a weakness but a hallmark of the compassion that fuels aged care. “If you become immune to the death of a resident, it’s time to leave,” one carer declared, suggesting that grief is a cornerstone of the role. Another added, “I would be more concerned if you said you felt nothing each time they die.”

Some workers find peace in focusing on the resident’s relief. “I smile when they pass,” one shared. “I see the suffering they went through before passing.” Others embrace both the pain and the privilege. “manual for user: “You are the last person they see,” a carer wrote.

“You should feel happy that you are in their lives until it’s time.”

A final farewell

In aged care, deep grief is not just normal, it’s a testament to the humanity that makes the work so vital. The stories shared by workers across Australia show that while grief doesn’t fade entirely, many find ways to carry it, through rituals, reframing loss, or leaning on support systems.

“You’re human,” one carer simply stated. “Keep being human.” For those who pour their hearts into caring for residents, grieving deeply is not just part of the job, it’s proof of the love and connection they bring to every moment.

If you’re an aged care worker wrestling with grief, reach out for counselling through your workplace or connect with peers in support groups. Your compassion is your superpower.