The Day Grief Pulled Me Under

Grief is available in waves, unpredictable and relentless. One moment, you may feel like you're sitting on solid ground, able to operate, even smile. Then, out of nowhere, a memory, a tune, a common scent crashes over you, pulling you under. The type of grief is not linear—it doesn't follow a straight path of healing. Instead, it ebbs and flows like the tide, sometimes gentle, sometimes overwhelming. You may be thinking you've made peace with your loss, simply to be blindsided by a rigorous wave of sorrow. This unpredictability could make grief feel a lot more isolating, as though no one else understands why you're suddenly struggling again. But the simple truth is, this is normal. Grief is not something we “get over”; it becomes an integral part of us, shifting and changing over time.

In the beginning, the waves are constant, leaving little room to breathe. The pain is raw, fresh, and consuming, like being caught in a storm without sight of the shore. Every reminder of that which was lost feels just like a punch to the chest. The simplest tasks become difficult, as grief drains energy and motivation. The entire world moves on, but you feel stuck, unable to escape the cycle of sadness. As time passes, however, the waves become less frequent. They do not disappear, however they come with increased space among, allowing moments of light to shine through. You may find yourself laughing again, enjoying small things, even feeling a feeling of normalcy. However, just when you think you've found solid ground, another wave hits. This can be frustrating, even discouraging—why, after so much progress, does the pain return? Because grief is love with nowhere to go, and love does not need an expiration date  grief comes in waves.

Eventually, you figure out how to navigate the waves, even should they never fully stop. You begin to recognize when they're coming, and you develop ways to brace yourself. Some waves are small, merely a ripple of sadness that passes quickly. Others are overwhelming, knocking you off the feet, forcing one to sit with your pain throughout again. But eventually, you realize that you're not drowning anymore. You are learning how to float, just how to ride the waves instead of resisting them. The pain is still there, but it no longer consumes you. You carry your loss differently—not as a weight that drags you down, but as part of you, woven into your life. Healing does not mean forgetting; this means learning how to deal with the waves rather than fearing them.

And perhaps the most important realization is that grief's waves do not only bring sorrow—they also bring love, connection, and memory. Each wave is an indication of how deeply you cared, of the moments you shared, of the impact they'd on your life. Although the pain may be sharp, it is proof that love never truly leaves us. The waves may come unexpectedly, and they could bring tears, but additionally they carry warmth. They remind you that even in loss, there is love. As time passes, you find that the waves of grief do not merely pull you under—additionally they carry you forward, guiding you toward healing in their own unpredictable way.