09/01/2026
Death has a way of reminding us how little control we really have over time.
Sometimes someone leaves this world and it simply doesn’t make sense. They were loved. They had people who needed them, people who adored them, plans still waiting to be lived. And suddenly, there is this space where they used to be.
I think one of the hardest things about grief is that the world eventually expects you to keep moving.
But grief doesn’t own a calendar.
There is no appropriate amount of time to miss someone. No deadline for when their name should stop catching in your throat.
No point where a song, a smell, a place, or an ordinary Tuesday can’t suddenly bring them rushing back.
Some days you may laugh and feel completely okay. Then six months later, something tiny can knock the wind out of you.
That doesn’t mean you’re going backwards.
Maybe grief isn’t something we “get over.”
Maybe it is simply love learning how to exist when someone is no longer physically here.
So if you are grieving someone—whether they left yesterday, ten years ago, or somewhere in between—there is no timeline you have to follow.
Carry them.
Talk about them.
Laugh about them.
Cry when you need to.
And take whatever time your heart takes.
Some souls leave an imprint that time was never meant to erase.
For those left behind, may we give ourselves permission to grieve in our own way, in our own time, and to carry their love forward with us.