Embracing grief: The sacred space of Sāmoan and Tongan traditions in mourning

As Pacific families navigate the pain of losing a loved one, spirituality and cultural traditions play a central role in how grief is expressed and processed.

The focus comes as Aotearoa New Zealand marks Dying Matters Awareness Week, with workshops and events taking place across the country.

Nalei Taufa, the Research Operations Manager for Te Poutoko Ora a Kiwa, Centre for Pacific and Global Health, is completing her PhD on Tongan understandings and practices around grief and healing.

Inspired by her own experiences from childhood, Taufa (Kolonga, ‘Ohonua, Tufuenga, and Pangai - Tonga, Fiji, Wallis and Futuna), recalls attending funerals for church members, family, and friends.

“My earliest memories are of hearing the wailing, seeing the ta’ovala putu, the mats being worn, and just watching how our kainga leaned into that pain. Grief through culture and spirituality was normalised for my siblings and I.”

Taufa says Tongan funeral traditions create space for grief, with cultural roles dictating who is responsible for certain tasks.

The Tuita family present their food offering for King Tāufaʻāhau Tupou IV's funeral ceremony. Photo/Wikipedia/CC BY-SA 2.5

“There's usually a space to wail, to be undone, to cry,” she says. “Someone's standing in the kitchen, someone's serving outside, someone's serving the cups of tea. It allows us to slow down, feel, express and care for one another as we walk through the valley of the shadow of death.”

Taufa describes the importance of tauhivā, the sacred, spiritual space that connects people.

“Vā is who we are, honouring that space that relates us to one another and also to those that have moved on to the other side of the veil. That physical presence may be gone, but the relational space continues through remembrance, legacy, our rituals, our cultures, even our responsibilities.”

Nalei Taufa is researching Tongan experiences of grief and healing. Photo/Victoria University

Taufa says indigeneity means grief is processed and carried collectively.

For many Sāmoan families, spirituality is central not only during the funeral but also in the days leading up to a loved one’s passing.

Reverend Dr Feiloaiga Taule’ale’ausumai, a minister at St Andrew’s on the Terrace in Wellington, says ministers are often called to a person’s bedside for their final moments.

“They usually like to have the minister present to bid them farewell as they leave this world, ask for a blessing on the life that they've had, and also pray that God will receive them at the other end,” she says.

“For people who have been suffering in pain, there's a real sense of relief for the family. It's finished. No more suffering, but it's also the beginning of a new chapter in eternity.”

While her ministry is grounded in Christianity, Taule’ale’ausumai notes that older Sāmoan practices reflect a deep spirituality. Families once wrapped the deceased in siapo (tapa cloth) and buried them with prayers to family gods. If a body was lost at sea, a mat placed on the foreshore could symbolise the missing person.

Listen to the full interview with Reverend Dr Feiloaiga Taule’ale’ausumai and Nalei Taufa below:

“If a crab crawled onto that mat, they would wrap it up and bury it as the spirit of the dead person who drowned,” she says. “They often say that dolphins are the fish of the dead, of the people who drown at sea.”

Taule’ale’ausumai says Sāmoan spirituality also highlights the connection beyond death.

She warns that Western attitudes may interpret these experiences as negative.

“My parents visit me quite often in my dreams. And I see it as a visitation for myself … sometimes my husband visits me in my dreams, and I enjoy those.

“We allow the whole Western concept of bad and good and evil to tarnish some of the beauty of the afterlife in terms of our Sāmoan spirituality, but no one has a monopoly on death experiences.”

Death is marked differently across the world. Photo/Unsplash

Grief doesn’t have an expiration date

Taufa rejects the “five stages of grief” model as inadequate for Pacific people, saying the mourning period is not linear.

She says grief for Tongans “flows in circles that weave across generations. It's expressed communally through the wailing, the rituals and shared responsibilities. It's also deeply spiritual and cultural. Not just psychologically, but holistically felt.”

Taufa contrasts this with some Western approaches, which she describes as ‘grief-averse’. “The message is ‘get on with it, get back into work’, but that's not how grief has played a role in my life or my family members’ lives. It reshapes families, it marks your life forever.”

She says harmful behaviours such as alcohol or drug abuse may arise when there is no safe outlet for grief.

Taule’ale’ausumai says the Sāmoan culture allows people to grieve over a longer period of time. “Palagis are quite different, quite removed, but I think we do it very, very well. The farewell goes through the whole week. People continue to tell the stories and everything.

“The way we celebrate death, the spiritual farewell, the cultural one, I think at its essence, when it's done, when it's done with integrity and care, it can be a blessing on the family.”

After the tenth day, female relatives cut their hair as part of the traditional mourning practices in Tonga. Photo/Wikipedia/CC BY-SA 2.5

Influence on policy

Taufa is set to complete her PhD next year, and hopes her research will highlight the significance of Pacific perspectives - cultural aspects of grief and healing - that are often overlooked in mainstream health and psychology.

“I hope it provides a model of support that's grounded in our Tongan ways of doing, of being, of loving, of living, of grieving, and that it can influence health systems, churches, communities, and even policies like bereavement leave that truly consider the space and time that we need.”

She says the findings point to a need for culturally safe approaches that acknowledge grief as a “long, convoluted and communal” process.