The Psychological Impact of Bereavement on Indian Families

The Psychological Impact of Bereavement on Indian Families

When Loss Hits Home — Unique Bereavement Challenges for Indian Families in the U.S.

Grief is never easy. But for Indian families living in the United States, the emotional toll of bereavement often carries an added weight. Unlike those surrounded by extended family in India, Indian immigrants in the U.S. often face loss in isolation. The absence of community rituals, delayed access to support, and cultural disconnection create a layered grieving experience that is both personal and collective.

Many Indian-Americans live far from aging parents or relatives. When a death occurs—especially of a loved one back in India—distance makes closure more difficult. Funeral rites may be missed due to visa issues, flight delays, or sudden financial constraints. For those residing in states with large South Asian communities like California, Texas, or New Jersey, local support might exist. But for others in smaller or rural towns, navigating grief can feel like being emotionally stranded in a foreign landscape.

Indian families also encounter the clash between traditional grieving practices and American societal norms. In India, death is typically followed by a series of rituals that involve the extended family, community, and religious practices. Mourning isn't just personal—it’s social, collective, and deeply symbolic. In the U.S., especially in fast-paced professional settings, there’s little room for prolonged grieving. People are expected to “move on” quickly and quietly. This cultural mismatch often leaves Indian immigrants without the time, space, or validation needed to fully process their loss.

Professionals, especially in demanding roles such as healthcare, tech, or finance, often suppress their emotions to maintain work performance. The unspoken rule in many immigrant families is to “be strong,” not “fall apart.” While this resilience can be admirable, it also means that emotional wounds are left unattended, festering into deeper psychological issues.

One woman, a 35-year-old nurse in Houston, shared how she had to continue working night shifts just three days after her father passed away in Mumbai. “I didn’t even get to attend the cremation. I just lit a diya in my apartment and cried in silence between patients. My coworkers didn’t really get it.”

Such stories aren’t rare. For many, grief is internalized—carried in silence and shame, masked by functionality. Yet this internal pressure to hold it all together often leads to anxiety, depression, insomnia, or what psychologists call complicated grief—a prolonged and intense mourning process that interferes with daily life.

Indian-American families also face generational divides in how grief is managed. First-generation immigrants, especially elders, may prioritize religious rites and cultural customs. In contrast, their American-born children might lean toward counselling or open emotional expression. These conflicting coping mechanisms can create tension, misunderstanding, and emotional distance within families already shaken by loss.

In essence, bereavement in the Indian diaspora is not just about losing a person. It's also about navigating the cultural identity of grief in a land that may not fully understand your language of mourning.

Silent Suffering — How Indian Culture Often Suppresses Open Expression of Grief

In many Indian households, emotions—especially the heavy ones—are often kept behind closed doors. Crying loudly, sharing mental anguish, or even speaking openly about death is still taboo in many families. Children grow up watching their parents mourn in silence. As adults, they adopt the same script, believing that expressing grief is not just unnecessary, but inappropriate.

This suppression is deeply rooted in cultural beliefs. There's an emphasis on duty, strength, and preserving family honor. While these values can foster resilience, they often leave little room for emotional processing. Especially in the U.S., where Indian families may lack the extended family network to grieve with, this silence becomes more pronounced.

Take, for example, the idea that men should not cry. It’s common in Indian culture for sons to be told to “stay strong” for their mothers after the loss of a father. Women, on the other hand, may be given some space to mourn, but are also expected to “adjust” quickly—especially if they have children to raise or a household to run. The message is clear: grief is tolerated only in small, private doses.

For Indian immigrants, this pressure is compounded by the desire to succeed in America. Many don't want to appear emotionally vulnerable in the workplace or social circles. As a result, grief becomes internalized, tucked away into quiet corners of the mind. This creates emotional congestion—a state where sorrow has no outlet, festering into stress-related health issues, sleep disturbances, or emotional burnout.

Research has shown that when grief is not expressed, it often finds other ways to show up. This can be through irritability, withdrawal from social interactions, or even chronic physical ailments like headaches, chest pains, or digestive issues. Unfortunately, these symptoms are often dismissed or misunderstood, both by the individuals experiencing them and by those around them.

A 42-year-old tech consultant in San Jose lost his younger brother during the pandemic. “I didn’t tell anyone at work,” he admitted. “We were in the middle of a product rollout, and I didn’t want to be seen as unprofessional. I just kept working. But months later, I couldn’t focus, started getting panic attacks, and finally had to take medical leave.”

These stories reflect a common reality: Indian families often wear their grief like invisible armor—carrying the pain, but never discussing it. While this approach may have served previous generations in communal living setups, it becomes damaging when applied in isolation, especially in diaspora contexts.

What’s worse, when someone does try to express grief or seek therapy, they’re often met with cultural resistance. Phrases like “just pray about it,” “it’s karma,” or “everything happens for a reason” are used to shut down emotional dialogue. These may offer temporary comfort, but they rarely provide the emotional validation and psychological relief a grieving person needs.

To move forward, Indian families in the U.S. must begin to untangle strength from silence. True resilience lies not in bottling emotions but in acknowledging them. Therapy, journaling, spiritual practices, and open family conversations can help create new frameworks for expressing grief—ones that honor tradition while embracing emotional well-being.

The Ripple Effect — Bereavement's Psychological Toll Across Family Roles

Grief doesn’t strike just one person. It moves like a wave—sudden, forceful, and far-reaching—affecting everyone in the family in different ways. In Indian households, which are often tightly knit and interdependent, the impact of bereavement is rarely isolated to one individual. Every role—child, spouse, sibling, elder—is disrupted in its own way. And for Indian families in the U.S., where emotional support systems are often limited, this ripple effect can be especially destabilizing.

Let’s begin with children. When a child loses a grandparent, parent, or sibling, they often don’t have the language or emotional tools to express what they’re going through. In many Indian-American families, parents struggle to discuss death with their kids, either due to their own grief or cultural discomfort. As a result, the child may misinterpret the event or internalize guilt, confusion, or abandonment. Behavioral changes like bedwetting, tantrums, withdrawal from friends, or a drop in school performance often follow.

Teenagers and young adults, already navigating identity conflicts in a bicultural environment, may respond with emotional numbness or rebellion. Some retreat inward, bottling up their emotions to avoid “burdening” the family. Others may become high-functioning grievers—excelling in academics or work while silently unraveling inside.

Spouses experience a different kind of fracture. The loss of a partner often leads to identity erosion, especially among Indian women who traditionally define their roles through family. The absence of extended family in the U.S. makes the grieving spouse’s isolation even more acute. A woman in Edison, New Jersey, who lost her husband to a sudden heart attack, shared how her in-laws in India expected her to return immediately and “settle down” there again. But her job, children, and sense of autonomy were rooted in the U.S. “It was like grieving while standing on two continents,” she said.

Elderly parents—especially those visiting the U.S. when the loss happens—often find themselves emotionally adrift. Their entire world may revolve around the child they lost or the family they helped raise. Without peers, community, or even familiar rituals, they may grieve in silence. Physical symptoms often increase—loss of appetite, fatigue, joint pain—and are sometimes mistakenly treated only medically, ignoring their emotional origin.

Even working professionals in the family feel the aftershock. Many are under constant pressure to perform, meet deadlines, or manage businesses. Their grief gets shoved into the margins of the day, released only in hidden moments—while commuting, at night, or when alone in the shower. This fragmented processing delays emotional recovery and can morph into chronic stress, burnout, or clinical depression.

Family dynamics also shift dramatically. Often, one member becomes the “emotional anchor” for others—handling funeral arrangements, finances, legal matters, and comforting everyone else—while neglecting their own grief. Others may withdraw altogether, leading to emotional disconnection or tension within the household. In some cases, unresolved grief even leads to long-term relationship strain or family conflict.

All of this is compounded by the cultural expectation to “be strong.” In Indian families, emotions are rarely shared evenly. Parents might suppress tears in front of their children. Children may hide sadness from parents. The result is a household full of individuals grieving alone, together.

Understanding this ripple effect is critical. Grief is not linear, and it doesn’t follow a uniform script. Each family member will move through their journey in their own time and way. The key lies in creating space for each experience to be acknowledged, validated, and supported—whether that’s through therapy, rituals, conversation, or simply quiet presence.

Complicated Grief and Depression — When Normal Bereavement Turns Clinical

In most cases, grief softens over time. The pain of loss remains, but the intensity fades. Memories that once brought tears begin to offer comfort. But for some people, this natural progression never arrives. They find themselves stuck in a loop of longing, sadness, and guilt. The world moves on, but they don’t. This is what psychologists call complicated grief, and it’s more common than we realize—especially among Indian families in the U.S. who lack traditional coping structures.

Complicated grief, also known as Prolonged Grief Disorder (PGD), is more than feeling sad for a long time. It involves persistent yearning, emotional numbness, difficulty accepting the loss, and a reduced ability to engage with life. The American Psychiatric Association now recognizes this as a distinct mental health condition, separate from depression or anxiety. And while grief itself is not an illness, complicated grief often becomes one.

For Indian immigrants, several factors make them more susceptible. First, there's the cultural emphasis on carrying grief privately. Second, there's often a reluctance to seek professional help due to stigma. And third, many have unresolved trauma from past experiences—family separations, migration struggles, or other losses—that compound the pain of the current bereavement.

A 50-year-old man in Atlanta, originally from Gujarat, lost his wife after a battle with cancer. He spent months taking care of her alone while working full-time. After her passing, he continued working, avoided friends, and rarely left the house. “I kept telling myself I was okay,” he said. “But inside, I wasn’t even alive anymore.” His grief had turned into severe depression, and it was only after a panic attack that he finally sought therapy.

What complicates matters further is how Indian families interpret emotional symptoms. Physical symptoms like fatigue, chest pain, or appetite loss are addressed seriously. But emotional symptoms—like hopelessness, anger, or detachment—are often brushed off. Phrases like “You need to be strong,” “Just focus on work,” or “Don’t cry in front of the kids” are well-meaning but harmful when grief becomes clinical.

Many Indian-Americans also struggle with the concept of mental illness. Words like “depression” or “therapy” still carry a social burden. Seeking help is often seen as a failure of character rather than a step toward healing. This belief system delays intervention, allowing the grief to take deeper roots and morph into chronic emotional suffering.

There’s also a spiritual layer. Indian families may turn to rituals, astrology, or religious practices to cope. While these can offer immense comfort and meaning, they don’t always address the psychological wounds beneath. In some cases, spiritual bypassing—relying solely on rituals to avoid emotional processing—prevents people from moving forward.

The good news is that complicated grief is treatable. Therapies like Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT), Grief-Focused EMDR, and support groups can offer practical tools to reframe loss and re-engage with life. The key is early recognition and compassionate support—especially from culturally competent professionals who understand both the science of mental health and the nuances of Indian identity.

For Indian families in the U.S., healing begins by recognizing that prolonged suffering is not necessary for love to be real. Grief can coexist with healing, memory can live alongside movement, and seeking help is not a betrayal of culture—it’s a way to honor the life that was lost by choosing to live yours more fully.

Rituals, Religion, and Healing — How Indian Traditions Both Help and Hinder Recovery

For Indian families, grieving is rarely a solitary act. It’s communal, ritualistic, and sacred. Whether it’s the lighting of a diya, chanting mantras, hosting a prayer meeting, or observing a 13-day mourning period (tehravi), the process of bereavement is embedded in tradition. But for Indian families living in the United States, these rituals don’t always translate easily. What once brought comfort can now feel incomplete—or even inaccessible—creating confusion in the grieving process.

In Hindu tradition, the soul is believed to journey for 13 days before reaching its final destination. During this time, the family is expected to avoid celebrations, cook only simple food, and dedicate time to prayer. In Sikh and Muslim families, death is marked with scripture readings, acts of charity, and recitation of holy verses. Christian Indian households often hold special masses or family gatherings. These rituals offer emotional structure—they anchor the bereaved, helping them focus on prayers and customs rather than just pain.

But in the U.S., replicating these traditions can be difficult. Families may not have access to a priest, mosque, gurdwara, or temple nearby. Work obligations, school schedules, and geographical distance from relatives often mean these rituals are shortened, rushed, or skipped entirely. One family in Seattle shared how they had to perform a Zoom-based antim sanskar (final rites) for their father due to pandemic restrictions. “It felt cold,” the daughter said. “We did the rituals, but something was missing.”

The absence of community support—elders guiding the process, neighbors dropping by, relatives organizing ceremonies—makes grieving more lonely. Without this ecosystem, Indian families often feel like they’re mourning in silence while trying to meet the expectations of two worlds. And this hybrid grief—a mix of traditional memory and modern limitation—can leave emotional needs unmet.

It’s also important to understand how religious beliefs can shape the way grief is processed. Some individuals find strength in the belief that death is part of a divine plan or karmic cycle. Others, however, may feel abandoned by faith, questioning why a loved one was taken too soon. For these individuals, spiritual explanations might feel more like barriers than comforts.

At times, religious or cultural pressure can even hinder the healing process. Widows, for example, may face subtle expectations about how long they should mourn—or how quickly they should “adjust.” Children may be told not to cry, so as not to “disturb the soul’s peace.” While these sentiments may be rooted in tradition, they often shut down emotional expression and discourage healthy grieving.

That said, when traditions are practiced meaningfully and flexibly, they can offer powerful healing. Lighting a candle at sunset, hosting a weekly prayer on Zoom with family, donating food in the loved one’s name—these small acts allow grief to breathe, evolve, and eventually transform. They provide continuity with one’s roots while still making space for the realities of life abroad.

For Indian-Americans, finding a balance between tradition and emotional truth is key. Some may choose to honor every ritual, while others may create new ones—like writing letters to the deceased, journaling memories, or creating a photo altar at home. What matters is intention. When rituals become acts of love rather than obligations, they become bridges to healing.

Real Stories — Indian-American Families Who Navigated Loss and Found Support

Behind every statistic on bereavement is a story—a deeply personal, often invisible journey. For Indian families living in the United States, grief carries a unique shape. It’s colored by migration, identity, tradition, and distance. Sharing these lived experiences not only brings comfort to others but also helps normalize seeking support, both culturally and emotionally.

Take Nikhil, a 38-year-old tech engineer in Austin, Texas. When his mother passed away suddenly in Pune, he couldn’t travel due to an expired visa and work responsibilities. He attended her cremation via video call, sitting alone in his apartment. “I didn’t know how to mourn,” he recalled. “There was no one to talk to who understood what I was feeling.” His wife, raised in the U.S., encouraged him to speak with a grief counselor—someone from his cultural background. “That was the first time I felt heard,” he said. “She knew what ‘tehravi’ meant. She understood my silence.”

Then there’s Priya, a high school teacher in New Jersey, who lost her brother in a road accident in India. She was overwhelmed with guilt for not being there, and for having the “privilege” of safety in America while her family suffered back home. “I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep,” she said. “Everyone told me to be strong for my parents, but I was falling apart too.” It was through an Indian-led bereavement support group that she found connection. “For the first time, I didn’t have to explain myself. I just had to show up.”

Families with elderly parents also face another layer of complexity. Mr. and Mrs. Sharma, both in their 70s, lost their eldest son in a sudden heart failure. They had moved to California just a year prior. “We didn’t know anyone here. Our son was our world,” Mrs. Sharma said. The grief was so deep that they stopped speaking to neighbors or attending religious events. Their daughter-in-law gently introduced them to a Hindi-speaking therapist through an online platform. “It helped just to cry,” Mr. Sharma shared. “Someone listened.”

These stories aren’t exceptions—they are realities scattered across the Indian diaspora in America. From Chicago to Fremont, from Atlanta to Portland, Indian families are grieving in ways that are both deeply cultural and deeply personal. And slowly, many are learning to blend old traditions with new tools—support groups, therapy, online rituals—to create a healing path that honors both past and present.

Click2Pro’s own data suggests that Indian-origin clients are increasingly choosing culturally matched therapists. The 10-minute free pre-chat feature allows them to speak informally first, breaking the ice before committing to full sessions. “Sometimes people just want to be heard in their own language,” said one therapist on the platform. “They want someone who understands what a ‘pind daan’ is, or why missing a funeral still haunts them.”

Each story is a reminder: grief cannot be processed in isolation. Whether it’s through community, culture, or counselling, healing often begins with being seen, heard, and supported.

Therapy as a Bridge — Why Culturally Sensitive Grief counselling Matters

For many Indian families in the U.S., grief is treated more as a private affair than a psychological journey. Therapy is often seen as something “Western” or reserved for people who are “mentally unstable.” But that perception is changing—and it needs to. In reality, therapy can be one of the most powerful bridges between silent suffering and genuine emotional recovery, especially when it is culturally sensitive.

Culturally competent therapy means more than just speaking the same language. It means understanding the cultural scripts that shape how someone experiences loss, guilt, obligation, and identity. For Indian immigrants, grief is rarely just about the person who has passed. It also involves family roles, spiritual beliefs, unspoken expectations, and the feeling of being suspended between two cultures.

Let’s consider a scenario: a man loses his father in India but cannot attend the funeral due to visa issues. A Western therapist may offer empathy and suggest techniques for closure. A culturally aware Indian therapist, on the other hand, would immediately understand the spiritual implications of missing the antim sanskar (final rites), the guilt of not performing shraddh, and the family pressure that follows. For many grieving Indian families in the U.S., connecting with the best online psychologist who understands both cultural values and emotional depth can make all the difference in healing.That awareness makes a difference.

This depth of understanding leads to better connection—and healing. People are more likely to open up when they don’t have to explain the cultural “why” behind their feelings. They don’t need to justify their rituals, family structure, or spiritual conflicts. Instead, they can begin talking about what really matters: their pain, their confusion, and their desire to heal.

Therapy also plays an important role in breaking intergenerational patterns. Many Indian-American families are made up of two emotional worlds: elders who grieve quietly and young adults who want to talk, process, and find meaning. counselling can help these family members communicate, empathize, and understand each other without judgment.

Click2Pro has seen a notable rise in requests for Indian-origin therapists among U.S.-based clients. Many users feel safer knowing that their therapist will not misinterpret their silence or confuse spiritual beliefs with denial. In fact, this alignment often accelerates emotional recovery.

Another benefit of therapy is that it introduces structure into grief. While traditional rituals offer a timeline—thirteen days of mourning, a one-year remembrance—grief doesn’t always obey those boundaries. A therapist helps clients process complex emotions that remain after rituals end: lingering regret, anger, emotional fatigue, or spiritual disconnection.

For those reluctant to try therapy, the option of an initial free pre-chat (as offered on Click2Pro) can reduce the pressure. It’s a low-risk way to gauge comfort before committing. And once that door opens, many clients find that what they assumed would be foreign becomes familiar—because therapy doesn’t erase culture; it works with it.

In the end, grief is not just an emotional wound. It’s also a cultural wound, especially for immigrants navigating loss in a country far from home. Therapy, when done with cultural humility and empathy, becomes a bridge—not just between grief and healing, but between generations, identities, and emotional worlds.

The Role of Community and Bereavement Support Groups

If therapy is the inward journey of grief, community is the outward one. And for Indian families in the U.S., who often lack extended networks, community support can mean the difference between silent suffering and emotional survival. Whether through faith centers, cultural associations, WhatsApp groups, or formal bereavement circles, communal spaces allow grief to breathe in public.

In India, the grieving process is deeply communal. Neighbors drop off food, relatives arrive in waves, and rituals are conducted with the help of dozens of hands. In the U.S., however, families often grieve in near-isolation. The community safety net isn’t built in—it has to be sought out.

Fortunately, Indian-American communities in states like New Jersey, California, and Illinois have begun forming their own informal networks of support. Temples, gurudwaras, and spiritual centers often organize prayer meets or remembrance gatherings for those who have experienced loss. These events don’t just honor the deceased—they provide comfort for the living. They offer a space where grief is normalized, not hidden.

Anita, a woman in Fremont, shared how attending a weekly satsang after her father passed away helped her feel less alone. “We didn’t even talk about grief all the time,” she said. “But being in that space, with people who prayed in the same way, gave me strength.”

Formal bereavement groups—especially those tailored for South Asians—are also growing. These are often hosted online, removing geographical barriers and allowing people to connect across cities. The shared cultural language—emotional, spiritual, and literal—makes it easier for participants to be vulnerable.

Support groups offer two major advantages: validation and perspective. Participants realize that their complicated emotions—guilt, anger, sadness, confusion—aren’t unique or shameful. They also learn from others’ experiences, gaining insights into what helped someone else cope or move forward. For people who aren’t ready for one-on-one therapy, these groups can be a gentle entry point into emotional expression.

However, community support is not always available or accessible. Many Indian families don’t live near South Asian centers. Others may feel hesitant to grieve publicly, fearing gossip or judgment. In these cases, online platforms become crucial. Whether through Zoom-based grief circles, Facebook groups, or culturally curated resources, digital communities are now filling the void.

At Click2Pro, therapists have begun recommending clients to join culturally appropriate bereavement groups as part of their healing plan. In some cases, therapists even co-host these sessions to ensure a safe, moderated environment. This hybrid model—therapy plus community—has shown to be more effective for clients who struggle with isolation.

One of the most powerful aspects of community support is the realization that grief is not a personal failing. It’s a shared human experience. And when families grieve together—not just internally but externally—they begin to transform pain into connection, sorrow into solidarity.

Ultimately, healing doesn’t happen in a vacuum. It happens in conversation, in ritual, in silence shared with others. For Indian families in America, finding that community—whether in a local temple or a virtual Zoom room—can be the lifeline that pulls them from grief toward grace.

Bereavement at Work — How Grieving Indians Are Affected in Professional Settings

In the fast-paced corporate culture of the United States, grieving can feel like a luxury many can’t afford—especially for Indian professionals. Whether working in tech hubs like Silicon Valley, hospitals in New York, or corporate offices in Chicago, Indian-Americans often find themselves caught between immense personal loss and relentless professional expectations.

Workplace bereavement policies in the U.S. typically offer limited support. The average is three to five days of paid bereavement leave, depending on the employer and relationship to the deceased. But grief doesn’t end on a schedule—and for Indian professionals, it often hasn’t even begun by the time they return to work. If the loss occurred in India, travel itself can consume the entire leave period, leaving no time to process emotions.

A 41-year-old financial analyst in Boston, who lost her father in Delhi, explained it this way: “By the time I landed, helped with the rituals, and returned, I had no time to cry. I went straight back to work like a robot.” This kind of emotional suppression is common. Many fear being seen as unreliable or unproductive, especially in industries that demand high performance. For immigrant families, where job stability is tied closely to visa security or financial survival, taking additional leave feels risky.

There’s also a cultural pressure to “not show weakness.” Grief, in professional settings, is often managed with silence, overwork, or complete emotional withdrawal. People mask pain behind productivity. They check emails from funeral homes, attend Zoom calls in the same clothes they cried in the night before, and avoid explaining their absence to colleagues.

This emotional multitasking takes a toll. It reduces focus, increases burnout, and often leads to long-term mental health consequences. Studies have shown that unresolved grief in the workplace is linked to higher employee turnover, absenteeism, and even physical health deterioration over time.

What makes this worse is the lack of cultural understanding among coworkers or HR departments. Indian traditions—such as 13-day mourning periods, delayed memorials, or ongoing rituals—are not always respected or understood. The emotional significance of missing a funeral due to immigration delays is often lost on those unfamiliar with these values.

Some companies have begun offering Employee Assistance Programs (EAPs), which provide access to therapists and support services. But if these professionals lack cultural competence, Indian employees may not feel seen or understood. Saying “you’ll be okay” doesn’t resonate when someone is also wrestling with familial duty, spiritual rituals, or guilt over not performing last rites.

What’s needed is a shift in both policy and perspective. Companies can support grieving employees better by:

• Offering flexible leave options for international travel.

• Encouraging culturally sensitive counselling resources.

• Creating grief-inclusive workplace cultures where emotions aren’t seen as distractions but as part of the human experience.

Some Indian professionals also form informal networks at work—colleagues from similar backgrounds who check in, share experiences, or offer small gestures of comfort. These micro-communities can become lifelines.

Ultimately, acknowledging grief in the workplace is not about reducing productivity. It’s about recognizing that emotionally supported employees bring more empathy, resilience, and trust to the table. And for Indian professionals in the U.S., who often carry the dual burden of grief and cultural invisibility, that acknowledgment can mean everything.

Grief in the Age of Distance — Coping with Loss When You Can’t Attend the Funeral

One of the most painful realities for Indian families in the U.S. is not just losing a loved one—but not being able to say goodbye. Whether due to sudden deaths, visa restrictions, long-distance logistics, or pandemic lockdowns, many Indian-Americans have had to grieve without participating in final rites. This absence of closure adds a unique emotional complexity that isn’t easily resolved.

In Indian culture, attending the funeral isn’t just a formality—it’s sacred. Performing the antim sanskar, lighting the pyre, or being present for the last prayers is deeply tied to the idea of the soul’s peaceful transition. When a person can’t be there, it doesn’t just feel like a loss—it feels like a betrayal of duty. Many carry this guilt for years.

Rahul, a 29-year-old IT consultant in North Carolina, shared how he watched his grandmother’s cremation over a choppy video call. “It didn’t feel real. I wasn’t there to hold her hand. I couldn’t hug my mom. I sat on the floor alone and stared at the screen.” He later developed insomnia and anxiety but didn’t associate it with unprocessed grief until months later.

This type of grief—detached from physical rituals but intensely emotional—is often overlooked. Friends or coworkers may not understand the significance of missing a funeral. Some might even assume that watching a live stream is “enough.” But for Indian families, grief is tied to touch, scent, prayer, and presence. When those elements are missing, grief doesn’t just pause—it becomes suspended.

To cope, many Indian-Americans create alternative mourning spaces. They may hold a small puja at home, light a candle, or share stories with extended family over Zoom. Some collect photos and create digital memorials. Others write letters to the deceased, seeking emotional release in words. While these gestures may not replace physical presence, they help restore a sense of participation and meaning.

Therapists also recommend symbolic acts to process this unique form of loss. Visiting a temple, planting a tree in memory, or setting aside a dedicated time each day for reflection can slowly build emotional resolution. These are small rituals, but when done consistently, they offer grounding in times of emotional chaos.

Families can also support each other by openly discussing the guilt or regret associated with absence. Too often, these feelings remain unspoken, leading to isolation or shame. But when acknowledged, they create space for shared empathy. “We couldn’t be there, but we’re still honoring them here,” becomes a healing narrative.

The pandemic intensified this issue, with hundreds of Indian-American families losing relatives and being locked out of their final moments. For many, the trauma of that absence still lingers. Virtual grief groups and culturally aligned therapy became essential during this time and continue to be relevant for those navigating similar losses today.

Coping with grief from a distance is not about pretending the pain is less. It’s about accepting that love doesn’t end at the border, and mourning isn’t limited to proximity. By finding meaningful ways to honor the deceased—even when far away—Indian families can create closure not from rituals alone, but from connection, intention, and memory.

What the Data Says — U.S. Statistics on Bereavement and Indian Families

While grief is deeply personal, understanding its scale and psychological impact—especially among Indian families in the U.S.—requires a broader lens. Statistics can help us see patterns we might otherwise miss, and data from various mental health studies paints a clearer picture of just how profound and complex bereavement is in immigrant communities.

According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), an estimated 2.5 million people die in the U.S. each year, leaving behind over 5 million grieving close relatives annually. Yet, most national mental health surveys do not disaggregate data by ethnicity or immigration status—making the grief experiences of South Asians and Indian immigrants less visible in research.

However, niche studies and community organizations have tried to fill the gap. A recent 2023 report by the South Asian Mental Health Initiative & Network (SAMHIN) revealed that:

• 1 in 3 Indian-Americans reported struggling with prolonged grief after the loss of a parent.

• Nearly 40% of those grieving said they avoided therapy due to cultural stigma.

• 70% expressed regret about not attending rituals or funerals due to being in the U.S.

Geographically, the impact also varies. States like California, New Jersey, Texas, and Illinois—which have high South Asian populations—have seen a rise in demand for culturally sensitive grief counselors over the past five years.

Another layer to this is how grief intersects with mental health access. According to the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI), immigrants from South Asia are among the least likely to seek mental health treatment in the U.S., despite high rates of emotional distress. Language barriers, financial constraints, lack of insurance, and mistrust of Western psychological systems contribute to this avoidance.

In workplaces, the American Psychological Association (APA) reported that employees of color—particularly immigrants—are 25% less likely to take full bereavement leave, fearing that it might affect their job security or professional image.

These statistics confirm what lived experience has already shown: Indian-Americans often face bereavement under strained, under-supported, and under-recognized conditions. By acknowledging these trends, service providers, policymakers, and communities can begin designing systems that make space for grief—not just as a momentary emotion, but as a life-altering journey that deserves support.

How to Start Healing — Practical Tips and Professional Guidance

Healing from bereavement doesn’t mean forgetting—it means learning to live while remembering. For Indian families in the U.S., this process can feel disjointed, especially when traditional supports are missing. But healing is not only possible—it’s necessary. And it doesn’t require abandoning cultural values. In fact, it begins by building a bridge between tradition and emotional self-care.

Here are several practical, culturally informed tips that help start the healing process:

Honor the Lost in Your Own Way:

Whether or not you could attend the funeral, you can create space at home—a framed photo, a candle, a journal. These small personal rituals act as reminders and emotional anchors.

Give Your Grief Language:

Talk about it with your partner, children, friends, or therapist. When grief stays unspoken, it becomes heavier. Culturally aligned counselors—such as those on Click2Pro—can help you find the right words.

Don’t Rush to ‘Be Strong’:

In many Indian families, there’s an expectation to carry on quickly. But emotional recovery takes time. It’s okay to pause, cry, rest, and even seek solitude.

Engage in a Mourning Practice That Feels Right:

Whether it’s religious rituals, prayer, music, art, or meditation, find something that gives your grief a safe outlet.

Consider Therapy or Support Groups:

If emotions are overwhelming or prolonged, professional help is not a weakness—it’s a resource. Especially with culturally aware therapists, the experience can feel less clinical and more human.

Talk to the Younger Generation:

Help children understand what happened in ways they can digest. Avoid euphemisms. They too deserve clarity, reassurance, and permission to grieve.

Healing doesn’t follow a perfect arc. Some days will feel better; others may reopen wounds. But each moment of truth, ritual, reflection, or shared story brings you closer to peace. What matters is allowing grief to evolve—rather than imprisoning it in silence.

Conclusion — Embracing Grief Without Shame

Grief is not a weakness. It is not something to hide or push aside. It is the natural, often sacred response to love and loss. And yet, for Indian families in the United States, grief is frequently wrapped in layers of cultural pressure, emotional isolation, and silence.

But times are changing.

Indian-Americans are beginning to rewrite the script—seeking therapy, building communities, blending rituals with modern coping strategies, and most importantly, choosing to speak openly about their pain. Platforms like Click2Pro are making it easier to access culturally sensitive help, ensuring that no one has to grieve alone in a foreign land.

If you or your family are navigating bereavement right now, know this: it’s okay to feel lost. It’s okay to cry, question, pause, or even smile again. Grief doesn’t have to be hidden in order to be respected. By embracing it with honesty and compassion, we don’t dishonor those we’ve lost—we keep them with us, in a healthier, more sustainable way.

Your healing matters. And it can start today.

FAQs

1. How do Indian families cope with grief in the U.S.?

Indian families in the U.S. often rely on a mix of traditional rituals and modern coping tools. Some light candles, host prayer meetings, or observe mourning periods, while others turn to therapy or grief support groups. Due to physical distance from relatives or religious leaders, grieving can feel more isolated. Many families now combine cultural remembrance with therapy or online rituals to process their loss.

2. Why do Indian-Americans often avoid therapy after bereavement?

Therapy is still considered taboo in some Indian communities. Many families believe grief should be handled privately or through spiritual rituals. Emotional expression is sometimes discouraged, and therapy may be seen as unnecessary or “too Western.” However, this mindset is slowly changing as more Indian-Americans recognize the value of culturally sensitive therapy.

3. What are the signs that grief has become complicated or prolonged?

Signs include persistent sadness that doesn’t improve over time, trouble functioning in daily life, excessive guilt, sleep disturbances, and feelings of hopelessness. In Indian families, this may be masked by silence or physical symptoms like fatigue or body pain. If grief lingers beyond 6–12 months without easing, it may require professional intervention.

4. Can you still grieve properly if you missed the funeral?

Yes, grieving is not dependent on physical presence. While attending funerals is deeply meaningful in Indian culture, you can still process grief by engaging in symbolic rituals, connecting with others who share your loss, or seeking therapy. Writing letters to the deceased or creating a memorial space at home can also provide emotional closure.

5. What support options exist for grieving Indian families in the U.S.?

Support options include culturally informed therapists, South Asian bereavement groups (both in-person and online), local temple-led prayer circles, and platforms like Click2Pro that connect clients with Indian counselors. In cities with large South Asian populations, community centers often organize remembrance events and provide informal support.

6. How can workplaces better support grieving Indian professionals?

Workplaces can offer flexible bereavement leave, promote awareness about cultural mourning practices, and include access to culturally aligned mental health resources. Educating HR teams about diverse grief expressions can create a more inclusive and empathetic environment for grieving employees.

About the Author

Srishty Bhadoria is a seasoned psychologist at Click2Pro, dedicated to enhancing mental wellness through expert counselling support and personalized therapy services. With a master's degree in clinical psychology and over eight years of experience, she specializes in areas such as depression, relationship counselling, breakup recovery, and stress management.

Her approach is rooted in evidence-based practices, ensuring that each client receives tailored strategies to navigate life's challenges and achieve emotional well-being. At Click2Pro, Srishty is recognized for her compassionate and structured methodology, creating a safe space for individuals to express their emotions and work towards personal growth.

Whether addressing anxiety, trauma, or self-esteem issues, she empowers clients with the tools and insights necessary for lasting change. Her commitment to mental health extends beyond individual sessions, as she actively contributes to the broader community's understanding of psychological wellness.