“Grief doesn’t move in straight lines — it circles back like tides.”
You might think you’re doing okay.
You've smiled. You've gone days without tears. You've even felt a flicker of ease.
Then, out of nowhere — the wave hits.
The grief returns, sharp and sudden, like it never left.
And you wonder: *Haven’t I already been through this?*
*Why now?*
But this is the nature of loss. It loops. It revisits. It moves in spirals, not timelines.
Some days will blindside you. That doesn’t mean you’ve failed. It means you’re still loving.
Let those days be what they are: a return, not a regression.
You’re not back at the beginning. You’re simply passing through another layer.
And each time, you carry a little more grace with you.
A little more breath. A little more space between the wave and the shore.
Close your eyes and imagine waves on a shore. See one come close, then slowly retreat. Repeat silently: 'I allow what comes. I trust what leaves.' Breathe gently, letting the rhythm guide you into calm.
Think back to a recent day when grief returned unexpectedly. Write down what triggered it, how it felt, and how you moved through it. Notice what helped. That’s your lifeline — use it again if needed.
Clara N. “I thought I was doing better, then I heard his favorite song in a café and cried all the way home. I was so mad at myself — until I realized that didn’t mean I’d lost progress. It just meant I still loved him. And that’s allowed.”
You’re not backsliding — you’re deepening into wholeness, one wave at a time.