Grief Guide

Grief Guide Grief Guide is a Brisbane/Ipswich-based grief, loss, and bereavement counselling and supervision service run by Ali Mills.

Ali is a Registered Counsellor and Accredited Supervisor with 10+ years experience working with grieving clients.

06/05/2026

Mother's Day is coming.

And I just want to say, gently, before it arrives, this day lands differently for so many people.

πŸͺ· Those whose Mum has died, and will feel her absence loudly this Sunday.

πŸͺ· Those who are yearning to be a Mum, and for whom this day is a reminder of that ache.

πŸͺ· Those who have or are experiencing fertility struggles or perinatal loss, carrying a grief that so often goes unseen.

πŸͺ· Those navigating a strained or complicated relationships with their Mum, where the card aisle doesn't fit the experience.

πŸͺ· Those whose Mum is still here, but has changed, maybe because of illness, or distance, or some other reason. Grieving a version of her you once knew.

πŸͺ· Those whose child has died, or whose child is unwell. The mothers who will sit quietly with that this Sunday, or rage loudly at the absolute unfairness of it.

πŸͺ· Those in the thick of postpartum, where the day might feel more heavy than celebrated.

πŸͺ· And those who hold their own grief quietly, even while the people around them are enjoying the day.

This is not a small number of people. This is a lot of us.

So in these days leading up, I want to offer this: What does this day mean for you? And, how might you go gently through it?

Sometimes that looks like having a plan. To do something intentional. To do nothing at all. To lean on a person who gets it. To have a quiet exit from a family gathering if you need one. Sometimes it's just letting yourself know in advance: this might be hard, and that's okay.

If you're supporting someone who's grieving this Mother's Day, your presence, your acknowledgement, your willingness to just say "I know this one's not easy", can mean more than you realise.

However Sunday lands for you, you're allowed to feel all of it, and please know that I'm thinking of you πŸͺ·

30/04/2026

A few reflections on the losses that have shown up recently at Grief Guide. What a privilege it is to do this work with you, no matter the loss πŸ™πŸͺ·πŸŒž

22/04/2026

We hear it all the time: grief is the price we pay for love, or grief is love with nowhere to go.

For many, absolutely, this is true. But not always.

Grief can be about losing the opportunity to repair a relationship before someone died. About the messiness of a situation that never got resolved. About regret, and pain, and a deep yearning for things to have been different.

Grief can also be about finding yourself in something completely outside your control, and the despair and anger that comes with that.

That's why I'm more likely to say: grief is about something that mattered.

πŸͺ· Even when it's painful.
πŸͺ· Even when it's complicated.
πŸͺ· Even when it feels unfair or unwanted.

We grieve things that were significant to us. And sometimes, yes, we tap into love in that process. But sometimes what we really need is to tap into some love for ourselves as we navigate the hard.

πŸͺ· You are allowed to grieve all of it. πŸͺ·

14/04/2026

Sorry for the quiet. I've just returned from a small break in New Zealand with family, and I needed it.

These past weeks have been full of loss. Grief has been moving through my family, and I came home to another; our beloved cat died. If you've loved a pet, you know that grief is just as real as any other.

So I've been living and breathing loss for a while now.

I took this photo on a beach while my kids laughed and played nearby. I looked over, and there it was, a cairn. A rock stack. I didn't make it, but it called to me.

Cairns have long been used as silent memorials, each stone a tribute, a way of saying I remember. I added a stone for those I've lost. And today, in my heart, I added one for our cat.

Grief is woven into life. And sometimes, in the most beautiful places, we find the most tender reminders of that.

I'm back.

And despite carrying grief with me (or maybe even because I know grief) I'm truly looking forward to sitting with my clients again, those who trust me to walk alongside them in their losses.

πŸͺ· My books are close to full, but please reach out, even just to say hello. I'm always happy to point you toward something or someone that might help πŸͺ·

30/03/2026

Here are just a few special moments from yesterday's Life's Chapters Expo in Lawnton, QLD. πŸͺ·πŸž

What a day.

Professionals and the community coming together to sit with life, death, and everything that falls in between. I had the privilege of being there representing both Grief Guide and Ladybird Care Foundation , and the conversations were everything.

In the background of this video, you'll hear the most beautiful singing from the Brisbane Threshold Singers . A service that offers comfort and ease through song, and my goodness, it was magical. To have that music wash over me throughout the day was something I won't forget.

The video closes with something deeply personal, shared here with permission. A tattoo of a drawing made by a grandson who has recently died. His story was generously offered to me on this day, and I am so grateful for it.

We spoke about the particular intensity of grief when a child dies. About how isolating it can feel. About how even the most well-meaning people can miss the mark when it comes to support. I was grateful to be able to share how Ladybird Care Foundation's Peer Mentors just get it, how they companion people in the rubble of their experience with such quiet, steady care.

I say it often: as a culture, we don't do grief well. But days like this give me hope. Thank you to Kerry from Vita Life & Legacy for creating this space, and for inviting us all to step a little further into these conversations.

Bit by bit, we can make a difference. πŸͺ·πŸž

23/03/2026

πŸͺ· This Sunday, I'll be there and I'd love for you to come too. πŸͺ·

If you've ever found yourself wondering about End-of-Life, what it actually involves, what support exists, or how to start the conversation, this is a day worth showing up for.

The Life's Chapters Expo is this Sunday 29th March at Pine Rivers Showgrounds, Lawnton. Entry is just $5, and I'll be there representing both Grief Guide and . Come find me.

Under one roof you'll find Funeral Directors, End-of-Life Doulas, Grief Counselling, Cancer Support Groups, Aged & Senior Support, Life Legacy Stories, Bucket List Adventures and so much more, plus a food truck and the Brisbane Threshold Choir.

These are the conversations that matter. The ones we so often wait too long to have.

$5 in advance | $10 at the door | Kids under 18 FREE

πŸͺ· Ticket link in bio. πŸͺ·

What a delightful morning meeting with Galia from .org.au  and Kathy from  at the beautiful Wattle Cottage; a home-like ...
19/03/2026

What a delightful morning meeting with Galia from .org.au and Kathy from at the beautiful Wattle Cottage; a home-like space for respite, emergency care, and family wellness.

They take a holistic and community approach to support, just like Ladybird does and I do across my role at LCF and with Grief Guide.

Grief is universal, and knowing people and services within our community is so important for families to feel less alone in their experiences.

Side note, how beautiful is this mural at the front of the service? A donated piece of art with a deep richness of symbolism and meaning.

🐞πŸͺ·

13/03/2026

I shared a couple of weeks ago about my family moving through our own loss.

As anyone who is grieving or has grieved knows, this is a whole body experience, and everyday tasks become more exhausting, more difficult.

My experience is no exception.

Today, between clients, I'm resting. Conserving energy. Tending to my grief as I hold others'. This is the view from my couch as I do so. The sun is shining, the clouds are high. The birds are chirping.

πŸͺ· Grief is here, and so are little glimmers too. πŸͺ·

04/03/2026

What a privilege to be asked into a room of counsellors doing some of the hardest work there is, supporting families bereaved by su***de.

We talked about grief. About how su***de bereavement adds layers of complexity that other deaths might not ask of us; the why, the what if, the guilt that clings, the silence that surrounds.

And we talked about what it means to truly companion someone through that. Not to fix the unfixable. Not to lead or rescue or impose order on someone else's chaos. But to be present. To slow down. To witness without directing. To walk alongside.

Because sometimes, the most powerful thing we can offer isn't an answer. It's presence.

πŸͺ·πŸͺ·πŸͺ· It was a privilege, truly. πŸͺ·πŸͺ·πŸͺ·

24/02/2026

This week, my family experienced our own loss; the death of someone we love.

We felt it; that sudden feeling of the rug being pulled from beneath us.
πŸͺ·The shock
πŸͺ·The heartbreak.
πŸͺ·The quiet, disorienting question of what does the world mean now?

It's a strange and tender thing, moving through loss as a grief counsellor. I sit with grief every day in my work. I know the theories. I've heard countless stories. I've carried my own losses before this one.

And yet, I also know that every loss is its own. No two people grieve the same way, and each loss, even for the same person, asks something different of us. I know this in my bones, and right now, I am living it.

I know the words that can help when someone is grieving. And yet I found myself messaging family this week with the same honesty I hear from so many of my clients: words fail me too.

I am okay. And I am also not okay. And both of those things are true at once.

I am a human in this work, and that's not a limitation. It's exactly what makes this work meaningful.

I share this not to worry you, but because I think it matters that you know: I am not a robot navigating grief from a distance. There are times I too sit in the rubble. And I also know how to care for myself so I can continue to show up fully for others.

If you're grieving right now, I see you. I am with you in this.

πŸͺ· Please go gently. πŸͺ·

20/02/2026

I have sat where you are sitting.

In the waiting rooms. The two-week waits. The appointments that blur into one another. Showing up to work while quietly falling apart. Hearing pregnancy announcements and greeting new babies, and feeling completely, utterly alone.

I know what it is to grieve a future you didn't even realise you were already planning. To feel the injustice of what your body is doing, and what it won't do. To feel dramatic in your loss because there is nothing visible to point to. No funeral. No casserole at the door. Just you, and your hope, and the unbearable uncertainty of not knowing how this ends.

Fertility treatment asks so much. Your body. Your relationship. Your finances. Your heart. And somehow, through all of it, you are expected to keep going.

I did keep going. And my story had a particular ending that I am deeply grateful for. But that gratitude doesn't erase what came before it. The heartbreak. The medical intervention and rallying and showing up anyway. The time that passed in a kind of grief I hadn't known before.

That stays with me. It's part of why I do this work.

The losses that don't have names. The grief that sits alongside hope. The exhaustion of holding both at once, this is exactly what I am here for.

πŸͺ· You don't have to carry this quietly. πŸͺ·

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22 Boron Street
Brisbane, QLD
4074

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