At some point in our lives, we all lose someone we love, and we all handle it differently. Research tells us that there are five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. However, it's important to note that we may not experience all of them, nor in the step-by-step process outlined above.
There seem to be unwritten rules about grief, such as a timeline around how long you can grieve or when people will start to think you're depressed or "not handling it well." Additionally, we often prioritize or hold different people higher than others on the grief scale. For example, we might judge someone more if they are struggling with the passing of their parent than we would for an aunt or cousin. These assumptions and judgments are even seen in employment contracts, where companies may specify the number of days allowed off based on the relationship to the deceased (e.g., parent: 5 days, grandparent: 3 days, etc.).
It's also commonly assumed that death is always sad or that the person who experienced the loss must be sad. However, not everyone is sad; some people feel relieved, unbothered, or even free. It's okay to remember and talk about moments when the deceased wasn't nice to you or hurt you. Many people have shared that their families will not acknowledge the hurt or pain a family member caused them because they had passed. It's important to recognize that just because someone has passed away doesn't dismiss, minimize, or excuse the impact they had on the living person.
I recently lost someone, and I can share that I didn't go through all the stages of grief. I experienced sadness and acceptance with some floating feelings of guilt. The relationship with the person I lost was complicated, and I knew that was going to contribute to how the grief showed up for me. Grief is deeply personal and unique because we as humans are unique, and our relationships are personal.
Grief, in all its complexity, is not something we “get over” or move past. It weaves itself into the fabric of our lives, and over time, it changes, just as we do. But it never truly leaves. And that's okay. It’s okay to hold space for all the emotions—whether they come as waves of sadness, moments of peace, or flashes of anger or guilt. It’s okay to let yourself feel, in your own time, without the pressure to fit into someone else's idea of what grief should look like.
What I've learned is that grief isn’t a linear journey or a task to be completed. It’s a companion we carry with us, sometimes heavy, sometimes light, but always there, shaping how we love, remember, and live. We honour those we’ve lost not by perfecting our grief but by living fully in the present—acknowledging the impact they had on us, for better or worse, and allowing their memory to coexist with who we are becoming.
In the end, grief reminds us of our capacity to feel deeply, to love imperfectly, and to continue forward, changed but still whole. And maybe, that’s where the real beauty lies—in the quiet acceptance that grief will forever be a part of our story, and that’s what makes us beautifully, uniquely human.
Take care of yourself,
Ali
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