Honoring Your Grief

You have been told, gently or not so gently, that it is time to be over this. Grief is not a problem to solve. It is not a stage to pass through quickly so you can get to the better parts. It is its own kind of love — the love that does not get to land where it was meant to land. You are not weak for carrying it. You are still, in some way, loving.

You do not need to be over it on anyone's schedule. You do not need to find the silver lining. You do not need to be grateful for the lesson. You are allowed to mourn what you mourn, for as long as you mourn it, and to refuse the steady, well-meaning pressure to rebrand the loss into something easier for other people to be near.

Honor what you have lost by letting it matter for as long as it matters. Tell the truth, to yourself, about how heavy it is. Reach for the people who can be with the weight without trying to lift it off you. Make small rituals if rituals help. Skip the rituals if they do not. Whatever shape your grief takes is the right shape.

There is a long arc to grief that nothing speeds up. The weight is here. The staying with the weight is what you are doing. The small shifts will arrive on their own clock — not yours, not anyone else's. The grief will not be this heavy forever. It will not always feel the way it feels right now. It will shift, soften, surprise you. But it will do that on its own time. Your only job is to stay with yourself while it does. That is enough. That has always been enough. Some grief can only be felt on the shore — once the body is no longer being thrown by every wave, the long-held tears can finally find a place to land.