Grief & Loss Counseling · Savannah, GA

You don't have to carry
this alone.

Grief is one of the most universal human experiences — and one of the loneliest. I'm here to walk alongside you, at your pace, with compassion rooted in both professional training and over 20 years of lived experience.

Dr. Chris Rollwitz
"Named things are easier to carry than unnamed ones." Dr. Chris Rollwitz

Training, experience,
and a life that prepared me

I hold an earned doctorate in Counseling from Louisiana Baptist University and am a board-certified Master Mental Health Coach with the International Board of Christian Care. But honestly, my credentials are only part of the story.

For over 20 years, I've been a caregiver — walking alongside loved ones through dementia, Parkinson's Disease, traumatic brain injury, neurodivergence, and stroke. I know what it means to watch someone you love change. I know the particular grief of losing someone who is still here. That experience lives in everything I do.

I'm also a disabled veteran — I served in the U.S. Air Force as a Security Policeman during Desert Shield and Desert Storm. Service taught me steadiness. Caregiving taught me patience. And grief has taught me that no one should have to carry it alone.

  • 🎓
    Doctorate in Counseling
    Louisiana Baptist University
  • Board-Certified Master Mental Health Coach
    International Board of Christian Care
  • 🎗️
    Community Educator & Volunteer
    Parkinson's Foundation & Alzheimer's Association
  • 🤝
    Caregiver Support Group Leader
    Multiple Savannah-area groups
  • 🏠
    Owner, Oasis Senior Advisors
    Savannah & Hilton Head — free service for seniors and families navigating senior living transitions
  • 🇺🇸
    Disabled Veteran
    U.S. Air Force · Desert Shield / Desert Storm

Counseling that meets you
where you are

Grief doesn't follow a timeline or a checklist. My approach is warm, unhurried, and built around your unique experience of loss — not a formula.

01

Name the loss

We start by acknowledging what you've lost — including the secondary losses that often go unnamed. The identity, the routines, the version of yourself you were becoming.

02

Carry it together

You don't have to figure this out alone. We work through grief at a pace that's right for you, with compassion that comes from both training and lived experience.

03

Find meaning beyond

Grief doesn't end — but it can transform. Together we explore how to carry your loss in a way that makes room for hope, connection, and a continued life.

You may be in the right place
if any of this sounds familiar

Loss of a loved one

Whether recent or long ago, death leaves a mark that doesn't simply fade with time. I work with people at every stage of bereavement.

Caregiver grief

Grieving someone with dementia, Parkinson's, or another progressive condition — while they're still here — is one of the most complex and isolating forms of loss.

Life transitions

Divorce, job loss, retirement, an empty nest. Not every loss involves death, but every loss deserves care and attention.

Veterans & military families

As a disabled veteran, Dr. Chris understands the unique grief that comes with service — loss of identity, of comrades, of the life you expected.

Letters from Chris

Each month I write a short letter for people navigating grief and loss — no clinical jargon, no pressure, just honest words from someone who has walked alongside loss for a long time. Subscribe below and read past issues whenever you need them.

May is Mental Health Awareness Month — and grief has more layers than you might realize
Secondary losses, naming what we carry, and a small practice for May.
May 2026
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Hi friend,

Welcome to the first issue of this newsletter. I'm glad you're here.

I want to start simply: I created this space because grief is one of the most universal human experiences, and also one of the loneliest. My hope is that each month, something in these words meets you where you are — whether you're deep in loss right now, or still carrying something from years ago that never quite resolved.

Before this month ends, I want to mark something. May is National Mental Health Awareness Month, and I think that matters — not as a hashtag, but as a genuine invitation to pause and check in with yourself. How are you, really? Not the version of "fine" we offer when someone asks out of habit. How are you actually doing?


The loss you named — and the ones you haven't

When someone we love dies, or a marriage ends, or a chapter of life closes, we usually know what we lost. We can name it. I lost my mother. I lost my marriage. I lost the future I thought I had.

But grief rarely travels alone.

Tucked inside every significant loss are smaller losses — ones that don't announce themselves as loudly, but quietly show up in unexpected moments. These are called secondary losses, and they matter more than most people realize.

Maybe you lost a person — and with them, you also lost:

  • The one who always called on your birthday
  • A sense of who you were in that relationship
  • Sunday dinners that don't happen anymore
  • The version of yourself you were becoming alongside them

These secondary losses don't always have names. They surface as a strange sadness when a song plays, or a holiday feels off, or you reach for the phone to share something and then remember.

This month, I'd invite you to try something small: name one or two of them.

Not to dwell — but to acknowledge. To say, "This is also something I lost, and it's okay that it hurts." There's something quietly powerful about giving a loss a name. It stops being this shapeless ache and becomes something you can see, and hold, and eventually — at your own pace — something you can begin to find meaning beyond.


A small practice for May

Find a quiet moment this week. Take a breath. And ask yourself gently:

Beyond the loss I already know, what else did I lose that I haven't fully acknowledged?

Write it down if that feels right. You don't have to do anything with it yet. Just let it exist. Named things are easier to carry than unnamed ones.

And if what comes up feels heavier than you expected — that's not a sign something is wrong. That's often a sign something is ready to be worked through.


I'm a grief and loss counselor based in Savannah, GA, and I'd be honored to walk alongside you in that work. If anything here resonated, feel free to reach out. There's no pressure — just an open door.

Wishing you gentleness this month,

Chris Rollwitz
Dr. Chris Rollwitz Counseling · Grief & Loss · Savannah, GA
(912) 318-6756 · chrisrollwitz.com

There's no pressure.
Just an open door.

If something here resonated with you, I'd be glad to connect. Reach out by phone, email, or the form — and we'll take it from there at whatever pace feels right for you.

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