Grief in Expat Life: What Your Child Isn't Telling You
TCKs experience hidden losses with every move. Learn how to recognize and validate your child's grief—even when they can't name it.
TCKs experience hidden losses with every move. Learn how to recognize and validate your child's grief—even when they can't name it.
Your daughter is sitting in her new bedroom—freshly painted, carefully decorated, objectively nicer than the one she left behind. But she's crying. When you ask what's wrong, she says, "I don't know. I just… miss things."
You tell her it's normal to miss her old friends. That she'll make new ones. That this move is a good opportunity. All of that is true. But something about your reassurance doesn't seem to help. If anything, she withdraws further.
Here's what's happening: your child is grieving. And she doesn't have the language—or the permission—to say it.
When we think of grief, we think of death. We think of funerals, condolences, and a clear cultural framework for processing loss. But Third Culture Kids experience a different kind of grief—one that's ambiguous, ongoing, and often invisible to the people around them.
Every move brings loss:
The bedroom where they felt safe. The park where they played. The sounds, smells, and rhythms of a familiar environment.
Friends who promised to stay in touch but slowly drift away. Teachers who understood them. The neighbor's dog they walked every day.
For multilingual kids, leaving behind a language they were just starting to master—or losing daily practice in a language that felt like home.
The version of themselves that fit in that place. The social role they had. The sense of belonging they'd built.
The predictable structure of their day. The bus route, the lunch routine, the after-school hangout spot.
The high school they thought they'd attend. The friend group they were building. The sense of continuity with their past.
These losses are real. But because no one died, because the move was "for good reasons," because everyone keeps calling your child "so adaptable," the grief often goes unacknowledged.
Disenfranchised grief is grief that society doesn't recognize or validate. When a child loses a grandparent, people understand they need support. But when a child loses their entire social world, their room, their language environment, and their sense of place—people say, "You'll adjust."
So TCKs learn that their grief isn't legitimate. They learn to hide it, minimize it, or feel guilty about it.
One move might be manageable. But by the third, fourth, or fifth move, grief starts to accumulate. Each new loss reactivates old losses. Your child isn't just grieving this move—they're grieving every move they've never fully processed.
The people and places your child misses still exist—just not in their daily life. This creates ambiguous loss: their friends are alive, but unreachable. Their old home still exists, but they can't go back to it. There's no closure, no funeral, no ritual to mark the ending.
Often, TCKs don't grieve during the move itself—they're too busy adapting, making new friends, and managing logistics. The grief surfaces months or even years later, triggered by seemingly small things: a song, a smell, a photo, a visit "home."
Many TCK parents—and TCKs themselves—struggle to validate this grief because expat life is objectively privileged. "We're so lucky to have these opportunities," they think. "How can I complain?"
But privilege and loss are not mutually exclusive. Your child can be grateful for the experiences they've had and grieve what they've lost. Both are true.
Grief doesn't always look like sadness—especially in children. Here's what it might look like instead:
If you're seeing these patterns 3+ months after a move, your child is likely struggling with unprocessed grief.
The first step is giving your child language for what they're experiencing. "It sounds like you're grieving the life we had in [place]. That makes sense. Moving is a kind of loss, even when good things are ahead."
This normalizes their feelings and gives them permission to grieve without feeling ungrateful or dramatic.
When your child expresses sadness, resist the urge to immediately offer solutions or silver linings. Instead:
Validation doesn't solve the grief—but it creates space for your child to process it.
Because TCK grief lacks cultural rituals, you may need to create your own:
Your child can be excited about the new place and sad about leaving. They can be grateful for opportunities and angry about the disruption. They can love you and resent you for making them move.
All of this is normal. Don't ask them to pick one emotion over another.
There's no "normal" timeline for grieving a move. Some children adjust quickly. Others take 6–12 months. Some struggle for years.
If your child is still struggling after 4–6 months, consider professional support. Prolonged, unprocessed grief can turn into anxiety, depression, or difficulty forming future relationships.
You're grieving too—and that's okay. Parenting a grieving child while managing your own adjustment is exhausting. It's okay to acknowledge your losses, seek support, and model healthy grief processing for your children.
Just be careful not to lean on your child for emotional support. They need you to hold space for their grief without burdening them with yours.
Most TCKs eventually process their grief and adjust to new environments. But for some, unresolved grief becomes chronic and interferes with daily functioning.
Seek professional support if your child shows:
Therapy—especially with a therapist who understands TCK experiences—can help your child process grief, build coping skills, and develop a healthier relationship with transition.
TCKs are often praised for being resilient. And they are. But resilience doesn't mean not grieving—it means being able to process grief and still move forward.
When we tell children "You're so adaptable!" without also saying "It's okay to be sad about this," we teach them that their grief is a weakness. That "good" TCKs don't struggle. That adaptation means suppressing their emotions.
Real resilience looks like this:
That's what we want for our children. Not the appearance of being "fine," but the capacity to grieve, heal, and thrive.
Your child's grief is real—even if no one died, even if the move was "for good reasons," even if they're "lucky" to have these experiences.
The best thing you can do is see it, name it, and hold space for it. Don't rush them. Don't minimize it. Don't compare their grief to others'. Just be present with them in it.
Because when grief is acknowledged, it can be processed. When it's validated, it loses its power to fester in the shadows. And when children learn that their hard emotions are acceptable, they build the foundation for lifelong emotional health.
That's worth far more than a "smooth transition."
If your child is struggling with transition grief, we can help. Our therapists specialize in supporting TCK families through loss, adjustment, and identity challenges.