How's your grief?
Summer can be a very complex time.
I have been asking my clients and friends living with loss this question lately. Just in case their grief is being squashed, diminished, silenced, or dismissed in warm sunny weather.
It doesn’t go away. Grief is just not that convenient or tidy.
We can certainly compartmentalize for a time, or put it on hold, ignore, or stuff, but it’s still there. A low-level hum. Vivid dreams. A sudden shock of reality when you walk by your loved one’s picture.
Summertime can be like a long Christmas holiday. All the social media pics of people frolicking at camps, lakes, beaches, bbq’s with friends and family, all seemingly complete and content. (We know better, we know these pictures dont tell the whole story). Wishing your loved one were here to share your vacation with you, or make plans to fill the long warm days.
Sometimes what hurts isn't only the absence of the person. It's the absence of the life you thought you would be living by now. Summer invites us to imagine freedom, rest, and long, carefree days, but for many people, that isn't their reality. Grief may be only one of many things they are carrying, alongside caregiving, financial pressures, health concerns, work, or other losses.
When everyone else seems to be making memories, it can feel as though you're simply trying to make it through another day. Summer has a way of making those contrasts harder to ignore.
So, how about you ask yourself, “How’s my grief? Where is it lodged in my body? How is it affecting me today?” Do I need to acknowledge it and bear witness to its reality? Do I need to take some intentional time with my loss and wishing things were different, name it and honour it?
And for the people in your life whose grief is present in all seasons, how can you support and acknowledge it? Could you invite them for a walk, a coffee, or a quiet meal? Can you include them in your summer activities? Could you send a text to let them know they've been on your mind?
Sometimes the greatest gift isn't knowing what to say. It's letting someone know that you remember their grief still exists. You don't have to take it away. You simply have to let them know there is still space for it, and for them.
On we go,
Hilary
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Every day is a strange new day, summer is full of complexities, starting new is both sorrow and joy for me. Family from away entering into something they/we never imagined but finding ways to heal. Hugs and love to all who live in this strange new world no matter what your grief is. On we go…staying in the day.