Grief is available in waves, unpredictable and relentless. One moment, you could feel like you're sitting on solid ground, able to operate, even smile. Then, out of nowhere, 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 just like the tide, sometimes gentle, sometimes overwhelming. You might think you've made peace with your loss, simply to be blindsided by an intense wave of sorrow. This unpredictability will make grief feel even more isolating, like no-one else understands why you're suddenly struggling again. But the simple truth is, this really is normal. Grief is not at all something we “get over”; it becomes an integral 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 any sight of the shore. Every reminder of what was lost feels such as for instance a punch to the chest. The simplest tasks become difficult, as grief drains energy and motivation. The planet moves on, but you feel stuck, unable to flee the cycle of sadness. As time passes, however, the waves become less frequent. They do not disappear, but they come with an increase of space between, allowing moments of light to shine through. You might find yourself laughing again, enjoying small things, even feeling an expression of normalcy. But, just when you think you've found solid ground, another wave hits. This is 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 learn how to navigate the waves, even when they never fully stop. You begin to recognize when they're coming, and you develop methods to brace yourself. Some waves are small, only a ripple of sadness that passes quickly. Others are overwhelming, knocking you off the feet, forcing you to sit with your pain around again. But as time passes, you realize that you are not drowning anymore. You are learning just how to float, how to ride the waves rather than resisting them. The pain continues, nonetheless it no further consumes you. You carry your loss differently—never as a weight that drags you down, but as an integral part of you, woven into your life. Healing doesn't mean forgetting; it indicates understanding how to live 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 a note of how deeply you cared, of the moments you shared, of the impact they had on your life. Although the pain can be sharp, it's 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 yet in loss, there's love. With time, you find that the waves of grief do not merely pull you under—they also carry you forward, guiding you toward healing in their very own unpredictable way.