Speaker 1: Hello, and welcome to grief. Let's make sense of this shit.
Speaker 1: I'm Dylan. If sudden loss has upended your world lately,
Speaker 1: then you already know how it arrives without notice and
Speaker 1: leaves everything rearranged in an instant. One moment, life moves
Speaker 1: along in its ordinary way, and the next everything changes.
Speaker 1: That specific ache deserves its own space, So today we
Speaker 1: are focusing on coping tools that can help after a
Speaker 1: sudden loss. The working title for this episode is Coping
Speaker 1: with Grief after Sudden Loss, and we will spend our
Speaker 1: time together exploring steady practices that fit real days rather
Speaker 1: than perfect theories. If anything we talk about lands too
Speaker 1: close or stirs feelings you are not ready to hold
Speaker 1: right now, I invite you to pause and breathe. There
Speaker 1: is no rush here. You can return whenever you choose.
Speaker 1: Sudden loss carries its own kind of shock. Because the
Speaker 1: absence appears so abruptly, you may find yourself replaying the
Speaker 1: last ordinary conversation or wondering how the ordinary details of
Speaker 1: the day could possibly continue. Those reactions make sense. They
Speaker 1: show how deeply the bond mattered. Here is the thing
Speaker 1: about moving forward after something like this. The tools we
Speaker 1: will look at today are meant to meet you where
Speaker 1: you actually stand, instead of pushing you towards some imagined
Speaker 1: finish line. For example, we can start by noticing what
Speaker 1: your body needs in the first hours or days, because
Speaker 1: the physical side often speaks first. Or we might try
Speaker 1: a short grounding step that lets you stay present even
Speaker 1: when memories pull hard. The reality is that grief after
Speaker 1: sudden loss rarely follows a straight line, so these ideas
Speaker 1: stay flexible. You decide what fits, and you can say
Speaker 1: at anything aside without guilt. Since we are already here together,
Speaker 1: let's name today's focus on sudden loss and begin with
Speaker 1: one practical step you can try whenever the weight feels
Speaker 1: especially sharp. When grief arrives without warning, the experience often
Speaker 1: carries an extra layer of disbelief that settles in right away.
Speaker 1: Sudden loss happens in an instant, such as when someone
Speaker 1: receives news of a car accident that takes a family
Speaker 1: member without any prior signs of trouble. Expected loss, on
Speaker 1: the other hand, unfolds over time, like watching a parent
Speaker 1: decline slowly through a long illness, where there are months
Speaker 1: or even years to anticipate the final moment. The difference
Speaker 1: matters because the lack of preparation in sudden cases adds
Speaker 1: shock that shifts how the process begins and continues from there.
Speaker 1: Researchers at the Center for Complicated Grief at Columbia University
Speaker 1: have noted this added element of surprise frequently alters the
Speaker 1: initial rhythm of adjustment, leaving people to sort through confusion
Speaker 1: before or other feelings can surface. Clearly, because of that shock,
Speaker 1: the timing feels off in ways that do not always
Speaker 1: match what others might expect. You may find yourself moving
Speaker 1: through days where nothing seems real, yet the world keeps
Speaker 1: moving forward anyway. However, the reality is that grief does
Speaker 1: not follow a straight path, even when the loss itself
Speaker 1: comes without notice. The thing is, this extra layer does
Speaker 1: not make the experience more or less valid than other
Speaker 1: forms of loss. It simply changes where the starting point
Speaker 1: lands for many people. In fact, recognizing that distinction can
Speaker 1: open space to approach each day with a bit more
Speaker 1: patience towards yourself. Meanwhile, this episode will walk through real
Speaker 1: experiences that others have shared after sudden loss, along with
Speaker 1: practical steps that can support the days ahead. We will
Speaker 1: look at how the shock layer shows up in daily
Speaker 1: life and why it often requires a different kind of
Speaker 1: steadiness at first. Although no single approach which fits every situation,
Speaker 1: the conversations here aim to offer ideas that have helped
Speaker 1: listeners find small points of steadiness when everything else feels unsteady.
Speaker 1: Because the process stays nonlinear, we will return to the
Speaker 1: same themes from new angles, rather than moving in a
Speaker 1: fixed order. The truth is many people describe the early
Speaker 1: period after sudden loss as one where basic routines require
Speaker 1: extra effort until the mind begins to accept what has happened.
Speaker 1: For example, simple tasks like making coffee or answering a
Speaker 1: phone call can feel strangely distant because the brain is
Speaker 1: still catching up to the new facts. On top of that,
Speaker 1: the absence of any warning means there was no chance
Speaker 1: to say certain things or make certain plans, which adds
Speaker 1: its own quiet weight. Yet, over time, that same shock
Speaker 1: can give way to moments where memories start to feel
Speaker 1: more anchored, even if the pain remains present. Ultimately, the
Speaker 1: focus stays on finding what works for you in the moment,
Speaker 1: rather than forcing a particular pace. Speaking of real experiences,
Speaker 1: we will hear from people who describe how the first
Speaker 1: weeks brought a mix of numbness and sharp reminders that
Speaker 1: came without pattern. That said, the practical steps we will
Speaker 1: discuss include ways to create brief pauses during overwhelming stretches,
Speaker 1: and how to lean on small routines that feel manageable.
Speaker 1: In other words, the goal is to offer tools that
Speaker 1: fit alongside whatever feelings are present, instead of trying to
Speaker 1: replace them. Now Here is where my own story enters.
Speaker 1: For a moment. I remember the afternoon the call came
Speaker 1: about my brother, and how the ordinary sounds of the
Speaker 1: room seemed to drop away all at once. The shock
Speaker 1: made the next several days feel like they belonged to
Speaker 1: someone else entirely. From there, the weeks that followed brought
Speaker 1: their own surprises in timing and intensity. Yet certain small
Speaker 1: actions helped me stay connected to the present even when
Speaker 1: the pass kept pulling hard. We will return to that
Speaker 1: thread shortly after we explore what others have found you
Speaker 1: useful in similar situations. I remember the exact moment the
Speaker 1: call came through. It was a Tuesday, just past three
Speaker 1: in the afternoon. When my sister reached me on the phone,
Speaker 1: Her voice sounded thin and far away as she told
Speaker 1: me our mother had collapsed at the grocery store and
Speaker 1: did not make it to the hospital. My first reaction
Speaker 1: was to ask her to repeat the sentence, because the
Speaker 1: words refused to settle into any kind of sense. The
Speaker 1: kitchen around me stayed exactly the same, yet nothing felt
Speaker 1: steady anymore. A heavy pressure moved through my chest right then,
Speaker 1: and my legs went unsteady beneath me, so I had
Speaker 1: to lean against the counter for support. At the same time,
Speaker 1: a wave of heat rose behind my eyes, even though
Speaker 1: no tears came. For several hours, I kept walking from
Speaker 1: room to room afterward without any clear purpose, because staying
Speaker 1: still made the silence press harder. Since the news arrived
Speaker 1: without any earlier sign, the ordinary objects in the house,
Speaker 1: such as her favorite mug or the coat still hanging
Speaker 1: by the door, took on a new sharpness that caught
Speaker 1: caught me off guard each time I passed them. If
Speaker 1: you have lived through a loss that arrived without warning,
Speaker 1: you may recognize how those small details become anchors your
Speaker 1: mind returns to long after the day itself. The clock
Speaker 1: on the wall read three seventeen when I finally set
Speaker 1: the phone down, and that time stayed with me for weeks.
Speaker 1: Whenever I glanced at a similar clock in another place. Meanwhile,
Speaker 1: the rest of that afternoon blurred into a series of
Speaker 1: phone calls and arrangements that I completed more by habit
Speaker 1: than by any real plan. Each task felt separate from
Speaker 1: the reality that kept pressing in at the edges, because
Speaker 1: the mind works hard to create distance when the change
Speaker 1: feels too large all at once. The physical response stayed
Speaker 1: with me into the evening, as a tight knot low
Speaker 1: in my stomach that made eating feel impossible, even though
Speaker 1: friends brought food to the door. Emotionally, I moved between
Speaker 1: moments of complete stillness and sudden bursts of restlessness that
Speaker 1: sent me outside to walk the same block over and over.
Speaker 1: Because there had been no chance to say goodbye or
Speaker 1: even to notice something was wrong, the questions circled without
Speaker 1: landing anywhere useful. I found myself replaying the last conversation
Speaker 1: we had shared two days earlier, and wondering if any
Speaker 1: small detail I missed could have changed the outcome, though
Speaker 1: I knew that line of thinking offered no real comfort.
Speaker 1: Listeners often tell me that the first twenty four hours
Speaker 1: after sudden loss carry a strange double quality. On one side,
Speaker 1: everything moves too fast with decisions that demand attention right away.
Speaker 1: On the other side, time stretches out, so that a
Speaker 1: single afternoon can feel like it contains several separate days
Speaker 1: at once. That tension between speed and slowness showed up
Speaker 1: for me when I tried to sleep that first night
Speaker 1: and the quiet of the house kept reminding me of
Speaker 1: what had changed. I would close my eyes, only to
Speaker 1: open them again after a few minutes because the stillness
Speaker 1: felt too complete. Over the following days, the pattern continued
Speaker 1: in small ways that added up. Routines that once felt automatic,
Speaker 1: such as making coffee or checking messages, now required extra
Speaker 1: effort because each step carried an awareness of absence. Friends
Speaker 1: and neighbors stop by with kind words, yet many of
Speaker 1: those visits ended with both of us unsure what to
Speaker 1: say next. Since the loss had no clear lead up,
Speaker 1: there was no shared story of illness or decline that
Speaker 1: others could reference, which sometimes left conversations hanging in mid air.
Speaker 1: I learned to let those pauses sit without trying to
Speaker 1: fill them, because pushing for words only increased the sense
Speaker 1: that something was missing. This experience connects directly to what
Speaker 1: many of you may be carrying right now, the shock
Speaker 1: layer can make even familiar surroundings feel slightly off balance
Speaker 1: for longer than expected. At the same time, it can
Speaker 1: create a quiet determination to keep moving through the next
Speaker 1: hour and then the one after that. While the details
Speaker 1: differ for each person, the underlying sense of the ground
Speaker 1: shifting without notice tends to show up again again in
Speaker 1: stories shared after sudden loss. That shared thread matters because
Speaker 1: it reminds us we are not inventing the difficulty when
Speaker 1: ordinary tasks feel heavier than they once did. Because sudden
Speaker 1: grief often carries this extra element of disbelief, it tends
Speaker 1: to unfold in rhythms that do not always line up
Speaker 1: with what others around us anticipate. The early weeks may
Speaker 1: include stretches of numbness followed by waves of questions that
Speaker 1: arrive at unexpected times, such as during a routine drive
Speaker 1: or while standing in line at the store. These shifts
Speaker 1: do not follow a straight line, and they rarely announce
Speaker 1: themselves ahead of time, which can leave us feeling caught
Speaker 1: off guard even after the initial news has settled. Yet,
Speaker 1: noticing that pattern in ourselves can open a small space
Speaker 1: for patients when the day feels uneven once more, before
Speaker 1: we look more closely at those differences in how sudden
Speaker 1: grief moves through daily life. I want to pause here
Speaker 1: for a short message from our sponsors. That tight knot
Speaker 1: low in my body stayed for days afterward, and it
Speaker 1: made me wonder what else was happening beneath the surface.
Speaker 1: Sudden loss often brings its own set of reactions that
Speaker 1: can feel especially jarring. One of the first is disbelief.
Speaker 1: The mind keeps circling back to the fact that this
Speaker 1: could not really have happened, even when the evidence sits
Speaker 1: right in front of you. Another common reaction is hypervigilance.
Speaker 1: You might find yourself scanning every room or every phone
Speaker 1: call for the next piece of bad news because the
Speaker 1: last one arrived without any warning at all. A third
Speaker 1: reaction that shows up for many people is a kind
Speaker 1: of restless energy that makes it hard to sit still
Speaker 1: or focus on ordinary tasks. The responses feel intense because
Speaker 1: the loss itself arrived without time to prepare. The thing is,
Speaker 1: these reactions do not arrive in a tidy order and
Speaker 1: then disappear. They can show up again weeks or months
Speaker 1: later when something small triggers the memory. Researchers at the
Speaker 1: National Institute of Mental Health have observed that people who
Speaker 1: lose someone suddenly carry an increased risk for symptoms that
Speaker 1: line up with post traumatic stress. That risk does not
Speaker 1: mean every person will face the same outcome, yet it
Speaker 1: does explain why certain days can feel heavier than others
Speaker 1: without any clear reason. The Center for Complicated Grief at
Speaker 1: Columbia University has worked with many families who describe the
Speaker 1: same pattern. Their experiences show that the mind keeps trying
Speaker 1: to make sense of something that will never fully make
Speaker 1: sense in the usual way. Because of that, the process
Speaker 1: moves in loops rather than straight lines. You might wake
Speaker 1: up one morning feeling steadier, only to find the disbelief
Speaker 1: return when you hear a familiar voice on the radio. Meanwhile,
Speaker 1: the hyper vigilance can ease for a stretch and then
Speaker 1: flare again around an anniversary or even a random Tuesday.
Speaker 1: That back and forth is part of how the brain
Speaker 1: protects itself after an event that shook its sense of safety.
Speaker 1: Since the loss came without warning, the nervous system stays
Speaker 1: on alert longer than it might after a different kind
Speaker 1: of change. In other words, the body is still catching
Speaker 1: up to the fact that the world shifted in an instant.
Speaker 1: This pattern does not mean anything is wrong with you.
Speaker 1: It simply means your system is doing what it was
Speaker 1: built to do. Under extreme stress. For example, you might
Speaker 1: notice that certain sounds or smells bring the whole scene
Speaker 1: rushing back, even when you thought you had moved past it.
Speaker 1: These moments can feel discouraging because they arrive after a
Speaker 1: stretch of relative calm. Yet they also give you another
Speaker 1: chance to practice the small steps, such as pausing to
Speaker 1: name what you feel in your body right then, The
Speaker 1: reality is that grief after sudden loss rarely stays in
Speaker 1: one place for long. It shifts and returns, and sometimes
Speaker 1: surprises you with its timing. That said, the increased awareness
Speaker 1: of these reactions can make them a little less frightening.
Speaker 1: When they do appear. You start to recognize them as
Speaker 1: signals rather than signs that you are stuck forever. Ultimately,
Speaker 1: the goal is not to push the reactions away, but
Speaker 1: to give them room while you keep tending to daily
Speaker 1: life in whatever way feels possible. Some people find that
Speaker 1: writing down the moment the disbelief hits helps loosen its
Speaker 1: grip just a little. Others notice that stepping outside for
Speaker 1: a short walk interrupts the hypervigilance enough to catch a breath.
Speaker 1: These small adjustments do not erase the loss, yet they
Speaker 1: create tiny pockets of steadiness inside the larger storm. Because
Speaker 1: the reactions can repeat, it helps to treat each return
Speaker 1: as a new visit rather than a setback. You already
Speaker 1: know what the knot in your chest feels like, so
Speaker 1: you also know you have survived it before. That knowledge
Speaker 1: builds quietly over time, even when progress feels invisible. In fact,
Speaker 1: many listeners who have reached out after earlier episodes describe
Speaker 1: exactly this cycle. They talk about weeks where everything seems
Speaker 1: to settle, followed by sudden days where the same three
Speaker 1: reactions line up again without invitation. Hearing those stories reminds
Speaker 1: me that we are never as alone in the loops
Speaker 1: as it can feel in the moment. So if any
Speaker 1: of this lands close to what you have lived through,
Speaker 1: I want to open the space for you to share it.
Speaker 1: Your experience might be the detail that helps someone else
Speaker 1: recognize their own reactions. The next time disbelief or hypervigilance
Speaker 1: shows up. You can write in through the usual channels
Speaker 1: or simply sit with the words for now. Either way,
Speaker 1: the conversation stays open because these reactions deserve to be
Speaker 1: named out loud. The truth is, the more we speak
Speaker 1: about how sudden loss rearranges the ordinary, the less power
Speaker 1: the surprise holds over us. Meanwhile, the support from places
Speaker 1: like the National Institute of Mental Health and the Center
Speaker 1: for Complicated Grief at Columbia University continues to grow because
Speaker 1: so many people need language for what happens after the
Speaker 1: call comes through. You do not have to walk through
Speaker 1: it in any particular order. You only have to keep
Speaker 1: showing up for the days as they arrive, one after another.
Speaker 1: That steady presence is what turns the loops into something
Speaker 1: you can carry instead of something that carries you. Many
Speaker 1: listeners have reached out with their own accounts of sudden
Speaker 1: loss and the ways they have found to move through
Speaker 1: each day. One note described the moment everything changed without
Speaker 1: warning when a family member passed in an unexpected health event.
Speaker 1: The writer explained that creating a short morning walk became
Speaker 1: the one steady action they returned to because it gave
Speaker 1: their body something simple to focus on even when thoughts scattered.
Speaker 1: They shared how that walk started as just a few
Speaker 1: minutes around the block and grew into a habit that
Speaker 1: helped them feel connected to the present without needing to
Speaker 1: explain it to anyone else. Another note came from someone
Speaker 1: who lost a close friend in a sudden accident. They
Speaker 1: mentioned turning to a quiet notebook where they wrote a
Speaker 1: single sentence each evening about something they noticed during the day.
Speaker 1: That small step allowed them to mark time passing even
Speaker 1: when the days blurred together, and it gave them a
Speaker 1: place to set down memories without pressure to make sense
Speaker 1: of them right away. Both of these accounts arrived without
Speaker 1: names attached, yet they carry the same honest weight that
Speaker 1: many people recognize after loss arrives out of order. Because
Speaker 1: these stories landed here with such care, I want to
Speaker 1: thank the people who took the time to send them.
Speaker 1: Your words add something real to this conversation, and they
Speaker 1: remind everyone listening that no two paths through sudden loss
Speaker 1: look exactly the same. Meanwhile, the actions each person chose
Speaker 1: to try show up again and again in different forms
Speaker 1: because they offer a small anchor when the rest feels unsteady.
Speaker 1: The first listener found movement through walking and the second
Speaker 1: found steadiness through writing, because both get save the body
Speaker 1: and mind a place to rest for a moment. These
Speaker 1: choices build directly on what we have already talked about
Speaker 1: with breathing and noticing physical responses that stay after the
Speaker 1: first shock fades. In other words, they show how a
Speaker 1: single repeated action can become part of the day without
Speaker 1: requiring a full plan or a promise that everything will
Speaker 1: shift at once. The truth is, these notes arrive from
Speaker 1: all kinds of places, and they often mention how the
Speaker 1: early weeks after sudden loss leave people searching for anything
Speaker 1: that feels doable rather than perfect. For example, one person
Speaker 1: might begin with a walk because it gets them outside,
Speaker 1: while another starts writing because it happens in the quiet
Speaker 1: of their own space. However, the common thread stays the same,
Speaker 1: since each action started small and grew only when it
Speaker 1: felt right. That said, the people who shared these notes
Speaker 1: did not describe quick fixes or sudden relief. Instead, they
Speaker 1: pointed to steady practices that help them stay present through
Speaker 1: the waves that still come. Because we have allready walked
Speaker 1: through the personal weight of that first call and the
Speaker 1: physical tightness that lingers afterward, these listener experiences fit right
Speaker 1: here as a way to see how others have added
Speaker 1: their own steps. Meanwhile, the routines they describe do not
Speaker 1: replace the grief that remains, yet they sit alongside it
Speaker 1: and give the day a bit more shape. In fact,
Speaker 1: the simple act of choosing one thing to repeat can
Speaker 1: become a quiet form of care for yourself when the
Speaker 1: rest of life feels far away. Thank you again to
Speaker 1: everyone who sent notes like these, because they keep the
Speaker 1: conversation grounded in real moments rather than abstract ideas. On
Speaker 1: top of that, they point forward to the kinds of
Speaker 1: practices we can explore next together. The walking and the
Speaker 1: writing both show up as starting points that anyone can
Speaker 1: adapt because they build on the same idea of noticing
Speaker 1: what the body needs in the moment. Ultimately, these shared
Speaker 1: experiences open the door to trying something similar in your
Speaker 1: own way, without any rush or expectation that it will
Speaker 1: solve everything at once. The next part of our time
Speaker 1: together will focus on a few concrete ways to build
Speaker 1: on these listener descriptions, so you can test what fits
Speaker 1: for you right now. Because the notes highlighted movement and
Speaker 1: a short written reflection, we can look at how to
Speaker 1: shape those into daily habits that support the breathing practices
Speaker 1: we explore in this episode. For instance, a walk can
Speaker 1: include a few pauses to notice the air and the
Speaker 1: ground underfoot, while a notebook entry can stay as brief
Speaker 1: as one sentence about how the body feels today. These
Speaker 1: adjustments keep the action small enough to try even on
Speaker 1: days when energy runs low. However, they also honor the
Speaker 1: reality that sudden loss does not follow any set order,
Speaker 1: so the practices stay flexible rather than fixed. In other words,
Speaker 1: you can begin with whatever feels reachable and let it
Speaker 1: grow from there, because that is exactly how the listeners
Speaker 1: who wrote in describe their own starts. Truth remains that
Speaker 1: these small steps sit next to the grief without trying
Speaker 1: to push it aside, and they offer a way to
Speaker 1: mark time passing while the heart adjusts at its own pace.
Speaker 1: Thank you once more for the notes that arrived and
Speaker 1: for the trust you placed in sharing them here. They
Speaker 1: add depth to everything we have discussed so far, and
Speaker 1: they set up the practical approaches that come next move
Speaker 1: at the speed that feels possible. These listener experiences remind
Speaker 1: us that community voices help carry the conversation forward without
Speaker 1: any pressure to match what someone else chose. Meanwhile, the
Speaker 1: focus days on finding what works for you in the
Speaker 1: days ahead. Many listeners have found that small daily actions
Speaker 1: help anchor the body when the mind races after sudden loss.
Speaker 1: Because of that box, breathing offers one clear place to start.
Speaker 1: You breathe in slowly for four counts, hold the air
Speaker 1: in your lungs for four counts, release it for four counts,
Speaker 1: and hold empty for four counts before the next inhale.
Speaker 1: The University of California, San Francisco Osher Center has explored
Speaker 1: how this pattern