3 Things I Wish I Knew About Grief
Grief has a way of showing up uninvited and staying longer than you think it should. It doesn’t follow a schedule, it doesn’t ask permission, and it certainly doesn’t care if you have a to-do list or a child depending on you.
When I lost my husband, I thought I had a basic understanding of what grief might look like. I was wrong. Nothing could’ve prepared me for the way it rearranged everything—my routines, my faith, my motherhood, even my identity.
If you’re walking through loss, I want to gently offer you the things I wish someone had told me sooner.
1. Grief doesn’t go away. You grow around it.
I used to think grief was something I’d eventually move past, like a storm that would clear and leave everything clean again. But that’s not how it works.
Grief doesn’t leave—you just learn how to carry it. It becomes a part of you, like a scar that no longer bleeds but still aches when the weather changes.
You won’t wake up one day and be “over it.”
But one day, the weight won’t feel quite as sharp.
And you’ll realize: you’re still here. Still breathing. Still becoming.
2. Happiness and heartache can exist at the same time.
I thought joy would be proof that I was healing—but at first, it felt like betrayal.
How could I laugh when I was still aching?
How could I smile with my daughter when the person I wanted to tell about it was gone?
But joy and sorrow aren’t enemies.
You can feel the warmth of love and the sting of loss all in the same moment.
And those flashes of happiness?
They remind you that you’re still alive. That this life is still worth living.
3. There’s no right way to grieve.
You don’t have to be strong all the time.
You don’t have to explain your sadness.
You don’t have to pretend you’re okay so others can feel comfortable.
There’s no timeline, no formula, no perfect script.
Some days you’ll cry in the car. Some days you’ll make it to bedtime without breaking down.
Both are valid. Both are grief.
God doesn’t ask you to hold it all together—He just asks you to let Him hold you.
If you’re grieving today…
I hope you know that you’re not doing it wrong.
You’re not broken—you’re becoming.
And you don’t have to walk through this alone.
Let this be a space where your grief is allowed to breathe.
Where your questions are safe.
And where your healing can begin—one soft, sacred step at a time.