Grief will follow its own path…

Grief is a tide — not a timeline. It rises, falls, pulls back, and returns again without asking permission. Some days it feels like a soft ache. Other days it hits like a rogue wave. It doesn’t care about dates, plans, or how “strong” you think you should be.

• Emotional rhythms — Grief shows up in cycles, not stages.
• Somatic memory — The body remembers even when the mind feels steady.
• Unexpected triggers — A scent, a song, a quiet morning can open the door again.

What grief asks of you

Grief doesn’t demand perfection. It asks for presence — small, human moments where you let yourself feel what you feel without forcing it into shape.

It asks you to:

• Move gently — Slow down when your nervous system says “enough.”
• Let the waves pass — Not every feeling needs to be solved.
• Stay curious — Notice what shifts, what softens, what returns.

I passed by the house on Tuesday — the one that still holds all her belongings, untouched behind locked doors. I chose that route deliberately on my way to the Courthouse, where I was meeting my hubby for our appointment to submit the paperwork for the letter of administration to manage her estate. (They accepted it, so now we wait…)

The house looked exactly as it did the last time we went by. I stopped for a moment and let myself really look at it — the windows, the siding, the stillness. I found myself wondering about everything sitting inside, the pieces of a life now paused in time. All the stories, memories, and everyday things that once made up her world.

Standing there, thinking about what waits behind those walls, I felt a deep sadness. I know it will be hard for me once we get access inside. I sat there for a moment on the steps, and cried. I miss her.

She was such a bright light, and even in all this sadness, I’m grateful for the time we did have with her. I was talking with one of my kids the other day, reminiscing about all the Christmases we spent in her house — the laughter, the food, the way she made the season feel magical just by being herself.

He asked me if it would be okay to have some of her Christmas decorations when the time comes. It touched me deeply. Those decorations aren’t just things; they’re pieces of her, woven into years of family memories. Knowing they’ll be cherished and carried forward by the next generation feels right. It feels like a gentle way of keeping her spirit alive.

 A closing thought

If you’re grieving right now, let yourself be exactly where you are. Grief isn’t a failure of strength — it’s evidence of love, connection, and the way humans are built to feel deeply.

It will take the path it needs to take. Your only job is to walk alongside it.