To function. To cope. To get back to normal. But normal no longer exists.
Grief doesn’t fade in a straight line. It arrives in waves. Quiet moments. Sudden reminders. An empty chair. A date on the calendar. A smell, a song, a sentence that hits without warning.
Some days it’s sadness. Some days it’s numbness. Some days, it’s exhaustion you can’t explain.
And sometimes it’s guilt for laughing. Or fear that if you stop holding it together, you won’t stop at all.
Nothing about this means you’re doing grief “wrong.”
Grief is not a problem to solve. It’s a response to love, attachment, and loss. It exists in both the mind and the body.
It changes how you sleep. How safe the world feels. How close or distant relationships become.
That’s why time alone doesn’t always heal it.