Drowning, Floating, Breathing Again

Grief will come in waves, unpredictable and relentless. One moment, you may feel like you're sitting on solid ground, able to work, even smile. Then, out of left field, a memory, a song, a common scent crashes over you, pulling you under. The type of grief isn't linear—it does not follow a direct path of healing. Instead, it ebbs and flows such as the tide, sometimes gentle, sometimes overwhelming. You may be thinking you've made peace with your loss, and then be blindsided by an intense wave of sorrow. This unpredictability will make grief feel even more isolating, like no body else understands why you're suddenly struggling again. But the reality is, this really is normal. Grief is not a thing we “get over”; it becomes a part of us, shifting and changing over time.

At first, 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 what was lost feels like a punch to the chest. The simplest tasks become difficult, as grief drains energy and motivation. The world moves on, but you are feeling stuck, unable to escape the cycle of sadness. With time, however, the waves become less frequent. They don't disappear, but they come with more space among, allowing moments of light to shine through. You may find yourself laughing again, enjoying small things, even feeling an expression of normalcy. However, just whenever you think you've found solid ground, another wave hits. This is often frustrating, even discouraging—why, after so much progress, does the pain return? Because grief is love with nowhere to go, and love does not have an expiration date.

Eventually, you figure out how to navigate the waves, even when they never fully stop. You begin to recognize when they are 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 you to sit together with your pain around again. But as time passes, you realize that you are not drowning anymore. You're learning just how to float, just how to ride the waves as opposed to resisting them. The pain continues, however it no more consumes you. You carry your loss differently—never as a weight that drags you down, but as part of you, woven into your life. Healing doesn't mean forgetting; it means learning to deal with the waves rather than fearing them grief comes in waves.

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