When Your Grief Starts to Lift

The day you suddenly realize you’re doing okay can be surprisingly bittersweet. You may find yourself doing things that once felt impossible after your loved one died. Maybe you’re laughing again, making plans, enjoying an afternoon, or simply getting through the day without grief sitting so heavily on your shoulders.

The tranquil scene evokes a sense of peace and wonder, inviting one to explore the beauty of nature.

It may take months to reach this point. It may take years.

There is no timetable. Recently, a friend called me and shared his amazement that, after nearly two years, he finally felt ready to do something meaningful to honor his late wife. Along with that readiness came relief and peace—but also a slight sense of guilt.

He was considering funding a cause that would have delighted his wife, yet part of him wondered whether feeling ready to do so meant he was somehow leaving her behind.

It didn’t.

What he was experiencing wasn’t exactly “moving on.” I prefer to think of it as moving forward while carrying the love with you.

Guilt is a common response when grief begins to lift. You may wonder: How can I be happy when the person I love is gone? Is it okay to laugh? To travel? To fall in love again? To clean out the closet? To change the bedroom? To begin imagining a future that looks different from the one I expected?

Yes. None of those things means you have forgotten.

Acceptance doesn’t mean approving of what happened or no longer missing the person who died. It means beginning to understand that you can carry their memory with you without remaining mired in the deepest sadness of their loss.

It’s okay to clean out their side of the closet or empty a drawer. It’s okay to keep their things exactly where they are for a while longer. It’s okay to create a scholarship, plant a garden, donate to a favorite charity, or simply tell stories about them and laugh at the memories.

And it’s okay if you aren’t ready for any of those things yet.

I told my friend that creating a dedicated fund for an art school sounded like a beautiful way to honor his wife—something that could keep a piece of what she loved alive in the world.

We talked a little longer. Then he said quietly, “I will look into it.”

Sometimes healing begins with something that small.

You don’t have to leave your loved one behind in order to step forward. You can miss them, love them, remember them—and still choose to live.

Be well,

Shirley