Speaker 1: Welcome to grief making sense of it. I'm Dylan, and
Speaker 1: it means a lot that you chose to spend these
Speaker 1: minutes here. Many listeners arrive while carrying a recent loss,
Speaker 1: or one that continues to shape each day. That weight
Speaker 1: often shows up in morning dread or quiet moments when
Speaker 1: the day slows down. Today, we turn to the topic
Speaker 1: grief one hundred and one. Understanding loss without the timeline pressure,
Speaker 1: the focus stays on letting go of any expectation that
Speaker 1: grief must follow a schedule or reach certain points by
Speaker 1: set dates. Because loss does not keep a calendar, it
Speaker 1: helps to begin with clear basics that leave room for
Speaker 1: your own pace. Therefore, we start by naming how grief
Speaker 1: can appear in ordinary routines without requiring it to lessen
Speaker 1: or change on command. In fact, many people notice waves
Speaker 1: of feeling that arrive without warning, yet still belong to
Speaker 1: the relationship that continues. Since each experience stays unique, these
Speaker 1: first ideas simply offer language and permission to stay present
Speaker 1: with what is real. Meanwhile, the absence of pressure allows
Speaker 1: space for connection to the person who is gone, to
Speaker 1: remain steady even when others around you move on. However,
Speaker 1: the reality is that grief basics do not promise ease
Speaker 1: or completion. Instead, they point towards small, steady practices that
Speaker 1: fit the moment you are in right now. On top
Speaker 1: of that, we will touch on ways to mark time
Speaker 1: without forcing forward movement. Plus, the episode closes with one
Speaker 1: short ritual you can use whenever the fog feels thick.
Speaker 1: Because understanding begins with acceptance rather than action, these opening
Speaker 1: thoughts set a foundation for whatever comes next in your day. Ultimately,
Speaker 1: the goal stays simple. We meet grief where it is
Speaker 1: without asking it to follow rules that do not fit.
Speaker 1: Grief comes as a natural response to the absence of
Speaker 1: someone who mattered, and it carries no required stages or
Speaker 1: fixed length of time. Many people find themselves expecting a
Speaker 1: certain order because that is what they have heard from others.
Speaker 1: Yet those expectations can create extra pressure during moments that
Speaker 1: already feel heavy. Elizabeth Koubler Ross described some common reactions
Speaker 1: in her book on Death and Dying from nineteen sixty nine. However,
Speaker 1: she offered those descriptions as one possible framework drawn from
Speaker 1: her observations, rather than a rule that applies to everyone.
Speaker 1: In fact, grief tends to follow its own course for
Speaker 1: each person who faces it. Therefore, the idea of a
Speaker 1: universal path can fall short when real life brings its
Speaker 1: own mix of feelings and memories. Meanwhile, some reactions appear early,
Speaker 1: while others surface much later or even return after a
Speaker 1: stretch of relative calm. Individual experiences did because each relationship
Speaker 1: holds its own history and each loss arrives under its
Speaker 1: own set of circumstances. For example, keeping a daily habit
Speaker 1: might feel grounding for one person, while changing that same
Speaker 1: habit helps another person create space for new feelings. However,
Speaker 1: neither choice needs to be judged against the other. Instead,
Speaker 1: both can serve as honest expressions of what the moment requires.
Speaker 1: On top of that, the lack of a set duration
Speaker 1: leaves room for the connection to the person who is
Speaker 1: gone to remain steady in whatever way feels true. Since
Speaker 1: grief touches ordinary parts of the day, from the first
Speaker 1: cup of coffee to the last light before sleep, it
Speaker 1: shows up without needing permission or a schedule. Meanwhile, comments
Speaker 1: from others about how time will change things can miss
Speaker 1: the point that the bond itself does not have to fade. Therefore,
Speaker 1: honoring the natural pace becomes a way to respect what
Speaker 1: is actually happening rather than what others assume should happen.
Speaker 1: Reigns that support looks different from one day to the
Speaker 1: next and from one person to another. Because of the us,
Speaker 1: paying attention to your own responses can guide small choices
Speaker 1: that fit the current reality. In other words, there is
Speaker 1: room for many paths, and that room can ease some
Speaker 1: of the weight that comes from comparison. The book itself
Speaker 1: focused on people facing their own illness, yet the ideas
Speaker 1: have been applied more broadly to many kinds of loss
Speaker 1: since then. However, the core message remains that reactions vary widely,
Speaker 1: and that is normal rather than a problem to fix. Meanwhile,
Speaker 1: daily life continues with its demands, and grief finds places
Speaker 1: to fit in without asking for attention. For instance, a
Speaker 1: familiar song on the radio might bring a wave of
Speaker 1: memory during an otherwise ordinary drive. Because of this, allowing
Speaker 1: space for those moments without judgment supports the natural process.
Speaker 1: In other words, the response stays personal and it does
Speaker 1: not need to match any external measure of progress. The
Speaker 1: reality is that each person carries a unique set of memories,
Speaker 1: and those memories shape how the days unfold after that. Therefore,
Speaker 1: Comparing one experience to another often leads to unnecessary frustration. Instead,
Speaker 1: noticing the small ways that connection shows up can provide
Speaker 1: a quiet steadiness. On top of that, the freedom from
Speaker 1: timelines opens the door to rituals that fit the current
Speaker 1: need rather than a prescribed plan. Since the show centers
Speaker 1: on gentle practices for active mourning, these ideas set the
Speaker 1: stage for finding what works in the moment. Meanwhile, the
Speaker 1: personal story I mentioned earlier unfolded over several months, and
Speaker 1: it taught me to trust the pace that felt right
Speaker 1: at the time. Some weeks brought more energy for daily tasks,
Speaker 1: while other weeks required more rest and reflection. However, both
Speaker 1: periods belonged to the same ongoing process. In fact, looking back,
Speaker 1: I see how the variation itself became part of honoring
Speaker 1: the loss. Therefore, sharing this example might help illustrate the
Speaker 1: points we have been discussing. The story begins with a
Speaker 1: morning when I woke up and felt the absence in
Speaker 1: a new way that surprised me. After a stretch of
Speaker 1: relative to calm, I had expected the intensity to follow
Speaker 1: a steady decline, Yet that morning reminded me that grief
Speaker 1: does not follow such a simple line. Meanwhile, the rest
Speaker 1: of the day involved small decisions about how to respond
Speaker 1: to that feeling without forcing it away. Because of this,
Speaker 1: the experience reinforced the value of allowing individual variation to
Speaker 1: guide each step rather than any outside expectation. I remember
Speaker 1: the day after my father died. The sun still came
Speaker 1: up and the coffee still brewed in the same pot,
Speaker 1: Yet nothing inside me followed that same routine. I sat
Speaker 1: at the kitchen table because the chair across from me
Speaker 1: stayed empty. That emptiness did not fade after one week
Speaker 1: or even after several months. Instead, it showed up in
Speaker 1: small ways, like the sound of his favorite song on
Speaker 1: the radio, or the way the mail still arrived with
Speaker 1: his name on certain envelopes. Friends stop by with kind words.
Speaker 1: At first, they offered stories and shared meals. However, after
Speaker 1: some time passed, their visits grew shorter and their questions changed.
Speaker 1: They began to ask how I was doing, now that
Speaker 1: some distance had entered this point. When I answered honestly
Speaker 1: that the missing still felt sharp, they offered gentle suggestions.
Speaker 1: They said perhaps a new hobby would help, or that
Speaker 1: keeping busy would make things easier. Although they meant well
Speaker 1: those words landed as pressure to move along a path
Speaker 1: I could not see. Meanwhile, my own days kept their
Speaker 1: own rhythm. I still went to work and paid the bills.
Speaker 1: Yet at night the quiet returned and brought the same
Speaker 1: ache back with it. Because no one else lived in
Speaker 1: my house, the silence carried his absence in a steady way.
Speaker 1: I tried to explain this to one close person who
Speaker 1: cared deeply. The reply came back that time would soften
Speaker 1: the edges. That suggestion felt like an expectation I could
Speaker 1: not meet. Grief did not follow the calendar on the
Speaker 1: wall or the reminders on my phone. Since then, I
Speaker 1: have learned to notice how external voices can pull in
Speaker 1: one direction while the heart stays rooted in another. The
Speaker 1: pressure to show progress often arrives from love, Yet it
Speaker 1: creates a second layer of weight. Instead of easing the load,
Speaker 1: it adds a quiet sense of failure when the feelings
Speaker 1: refuse to shrink on command. On top of that, the
Speaker 1: ordinary tasks of living continue without pause. Groceries still need buying,
Speaker 1: and appointment still need keeping. Each of those moments can
Speaker 1: carry a reminder that the person is gone, and that
Speaker 1: the reminder itself does not have an expiration date. Although
Speaker 1: the world around me kept turning, I found moments where
Speaker 1: the connection stayed intact. A walk through the neighborhood brought
Speaker 1: memories of conversations we once shared. Those memories did not
Speaker 1: demand to be resolved or boxed away. They simply existed
Speaker 1: alongside the present. Therefore, I stopped measuring my days against
Speaker 1: an invisible line of improvement. The absence remained part of
Speaker 1: the landscape, and that fact did not require an apology
Speaker 1: or a time line. While others moved forward with their
Speaker 1: own lives, I stayed with the simple truth that grief
Speaker 1: keeps its own pace. Some mornings felt lighter, and some
Speaker 1: evenings brought the full weight back without warning. Because no
Speaker 1: schedule governed those shifts, I learned to meet them without judgment.
Speaker 1: The idea that healing follows a straight line never matched
Speaker 1: what actually happened in my own experience. Instead, the days
Speaker 1: unfolded in layers, some familiar and some unexpected. This pattern
Speaker 1: of pressure and persistence appears in many lives after loss.
Speaker 1: People often receive well meant advice to focus on the
Speaker 1: future or to count blessings. Yet those reminders can overlook
Speaker 1: the steady presence of the missing person. The connection does
Speaker 1: not end because others wish it would. It continues because
Speaker 1: the relationship mattered and still matters in quiet ways. Meanwhile,
Speaker 1: the external expectation to demonstrate change can make the grief
Speaker 1: feel even more isolating. I carried that lesson into the
Speaker 1: months that followed. Rather than pushing against the field, I
Speaker 1: allowed them space within the daily routine. A cup of
Speaker 1: tea in the evening became a moment to sit with
Speaker 1: whatever arrived. The practice did not erase the loss, yet
Speaker 1: it removed the added demand to perform recovery. Because grief
Speaker 1: holds no required length of time, the choice to honor
Speaker 1: its presence became a form of respect for what had been.
Speaker 1: Now the conversation turns toward understanding this lack of schedule
Speaker 1: in a wider sense, we can explore how ordinary routines
Speaker 1: already hold room for both the absence and the ongoing bond.
Speaker 1: We'll pause here for a short break and return shortly.
Speaker 1: Because each loss carries its own shape, grief reactions differ
Speaker 1: by person, by the type of loss, and by the
Speaker 1: culture someone grew up inside. One person may feel anger
Speaker 1: rise first, while another notices mostly sadness or a quiet
Speaker 1: numbness that lingers through ordinary tasks. These differences show up
Speaker 1: even when the same loss happens to two people standing
Speaker 1: side by side. A study published in jama by Mashajevsky
Speaker 1: and colleagues in two thousand and seven tracked how several
Speaker 1: common grief responses rose and fell at different times after
Speaker 1: a death. The researchers found that yearning often reached its
Speaker 1: highest point before other feelings did. Disbelief tended to peak
Speaker 1: early as well, yet acceptance arrived later than the rest
Speaker 1: for many of the people they followed. This later arrival
Speaker 1: of acceptance does not mean anything has gone wrong. Instead,
Speaker 1: it simply reflects how the heart adjusts on its own schedule,
Speaker 1: rather than on a shared calendar. While the study looked
Speaker 1: at one group of participants, the pattern matches what many
Speaker 1: listeners describe in their own lives. Some days, the missing
Speaker 1: feels sharp and immediate. Other days, the same loss sits
Speaker 1: more quietly in the background, while daily routine continue. Culture
Speaker 1: adds another layer of variety. In some families, open expressions
Speaker 1: of sorrow receive encouragement, while in others, quiet endurance receives
Speaker 1: more respect. Both approaches belong to grief. Neither one cancels
Speaker 1: the other. Lost type matters too. The absence after a
Speaker 1: long illness can carry relief mixed with sorrow, while a
Speaker 1: sudden death may leave more unfinished conversations behind. These distinctions
Speaker 1: do not rank one grief above another. They simply mark
Speaker 1: the different ground each person stands on. Since the study appeared,
Speaker 1: many listeners have written in to describe how their own
Speaker 1: peaks and valleys matched or differed from the reported patterns.
Speaker 1: One listener noticed yearning stayed strong for months, while anger
Speaker 1: never rose at all. Another found acceptance arriving in small
Speaker 1: moments rather than as one clear turning point. These real
Speaker 1: accounts remind us that the study offers one map among many,
Speaker 1: while the absence of pressure allows the connection to the
Speaker 1: person who died to remain steady. You do not need
Speaker 1: to match anyone else's timeline or force a feeling to
Speaker 1: rise or fall on cue. The heart keeps its own rhythm,
Speaker 1: although outside voices may suggest otherwise, that internal pace stays valid.
Speaker 1: If your experience shows something different from the patterns described here,
Speaker 1: I would like to hear your story, send a note
Speaker 1: through the show contact page or share it on the
Speaker 1: community thread linked in the episode notes your account adds
Speaker 1: to the larger picture that grief takes many shapes and
Speaker 1: moves at many speeds. Many listeners have reached out over
Speaker 1: the months since we first began exploring grief without any
Speaker 1: set schedule. Their notes often describe the same steady presence
Speaker 1: of loss that lingers well past the point others expect
Speaker 1: it to fade. One woman wrote about the death of
Speaker 1: her husband two years earlier. She still sets an extra
Speaker 1: plate at this point some evenings because the habit feels
Speaker 1: like a quiet link rather than something she must abandon.
Speaker 1: Family members have told her it is time to move ahead,
Speaker 1: yet she notices the judgment lands heaviest when she admits
Speaker 1: the ache returns on ordinary afternoons. Because her story matches
Speaker 1: what the research from that two thousand and seven JAMA
Speaker 1: studies showed about grief responses arriving at different moments for
Speaker 1: different people, her words remind us the timeline belongs to
Speaker 1: the individual alone. Another listener described the loss of her
Speaker 1: adult son six months before writing in. She explained that
Speaker 1: coworkers offered support at first, then grew quiet when she
Speaker 1: still needed to leave meetings early on certain days. The
Speaker 1: comments she received about being strong for others left her
Speaker 1: feeling the length of her grief was somehow out of
Speaker 1: step with what they pictured. Although she knows each loss
Speaker 1: carries its own shape, she still wrestled with the sense
Speaker 1: that her pace should match an invisible calendar. Others seemed
Speaker 1: to finllo. Her account sits alongside the first because both
Speaker 1: point to the same truth that external voices can press
Speaker 1: for quicker change while the heart keeps its own rhythm.
Speaker 1: A third person shared the story of losing a close
Speaker 1: friend after a long illness. The grief stretched into the
Speaker 1: second year, and she found herself avoiding gatherings where people
Speaker 1: asked how she was doing now. She wrote that the
Speaker 1: questions carried an unspoken hope she would report improvement on schedule.
Speaker 1: Since the culture around her often treats grief as something
Speaker 1: to complete rather than carry, these moments of pressure felt
Speaker 1: especially sharp, Yet she also described small pockets of relief
Speaker 1: when she allowed the connection to remain without apology. These
Speaker 1: accounts arrive from different types of loss in different backgrounds,
Speaker 1: yet they all circle back to the same experience of
Speaker 1: feeling judged for staying with grief longer than expected. The
Speaker 1: reality is that such stories arrive every week and they
Speaker 1: line up with the variety we already noted where culture
Speaker 1: and personal history shape how grief shows up. While one
Speaker 1: person might sense the weight ease in certain routines, another
Speaker 1: might find the same routines keep the absence close for years.
Speaker 1: Because no single pattern fits everyone, the judgment others express
Speaker 1: often comes from their own need for a tidy end,
Speaker 1: rather than from any rule grief must obey. These experiences
Speaker 1: therefore stand as ordinary parts of mourning instead of signs
Speaker 1: that something has gone wrong. On top of that, the
Speaker 1: letters may clear that naming the pressure helps loosen its hold,
Speaker 1: even when the grief itself stays. People mention they feel
Speaker 1: less alone once they hear their length of time reflected
Speaker 1: back without correction. That shared recognition opens space for finding
Speaker 1: personal ways to move through ordinary days, while the link
Speaker 1: to the person who died stays steady. One approach some
Speaker 1: listeners describe involves a short morning pause before the day begins.
Speaker 1: They sit with a cup of tea or coffee and
Speaker 1: speak the name of the person who is gone, Then
Speaker 1: name one thing they notice in the room right then.
Speaker 1: The practice takes less than five minutes, yet it marks
Speaker 1: the start of the day as a place where grief
Speaker 1: can exist without needing to shrink on demand. When grief
Speaker 1: shows up in every day patterns, it helps to notice
Speaker 1: small routines that match how things feel right now. Because
Speaker 1: each person carries a different shape of loss, a short
Speaker 1: walk around the block can mark the morning without any
Speaker 1: demand to feel lighter afterward. Meanwhile, the fresh air simply
Speaker 1: gives the body a moment to move while the mind
Speaker 1: stays with whatever thoughts arrive. Although the step outside might
Speaker 1: feel small, it creates space for the connection to the
Speaker 1: person who is gone to remain steady. On top of that,
Speaker 1: some listeners find that writing a few lines in a
Speaker 1: notebook brings similar steadiness. Since the act stays private, it
Speaker 1: allows whatever comes up to appear without outside judgment. However,
Speaker 1: the writing does not need to follow any order or
Speaker 1: lead to any particular insight. Instead, the page holds the
Speaker 1: words for as long as they need to stay there.
Speaker 1: While this practice fits one person's pace, it may not
Speaker 1: suit another, and that difference stays completely acceptable. Support groups
Speaker 1: offer another option when talking with trusted people feels right.
Speaker 1: Because grief often moves in ways that others around us
Speaker 1: do not always understand, a group can provide room to
Speaker 1: speak without explanation. Meanwhile, the simple act of hearing another
Speaker 1: voice share a similar moment can ease the sense of
Speaker 1: being alone in it. Although joining such a group stays
Speaker 1: entirely optional, it remains one path among many. Therefore, the
Speaker 1: choice to attend or to skip a meeting rests only
Speaker 1: with the individual. Guidelines from the National Hospice and Palliative
Speaker 1: Care Organization point to the value of selecting practices that
Speaker 1: match the current rhythm of daily life. Since these suggestions
Speaker 1: come without any required outcome, they leave room for the
Speaker 1: grief to continue at its own speed. On top of that,
Speaker 1: the organization notes how culture and personal history shape what
Speaker 1: feels useful on any given day. Although a routine works
Speaker 1: well one week, it may shift the next, and that
Speaker 1: change carries no failure. Instead, the focus stays on what
Speaker 1: fits in the moment. Many listeners describe trying one thing
Speaker 1: and then another until something settles into place. Because the
Speaker 1: process stays open ended, it avoids the pressure that can
Speaker 1: come from outside voices suggesting faster movement. Meanwhile, the heart
Speaker 1: stays rooted in its own timing, even when the calendar
Speaker 1: keeps turning. Although friends or family might offer well meant ideas,
Speaker 1: the decision about what to try belongs only to the
Speaker 1: person living the loss. Therefore, permission to adjust or pause
Speaker 1: any practice becomes part of the approach itself. A simple
Speaker 1: evening ritual can provide one gentle anchor when bedtime waves arrive.
Speaker 1: The evening grief pause takes about five minutes and begins
Speaker 1: by sitting in a quiet spot with the a single object
Speaker 1: that reminds you of the person who is gone. Next,
Speaker 1: a few slow breaths allow the mind to settle while
Speaker 1: attention rests on one memory that surfaces naturally. After that,
Speaker 1: the object is placed nearby for the night, and the
Speaker 1: moment ends without any further requirement. This short sequence fits
Speaker 1: into the time before sleep and honors the ongoing connection
Speaker 1: without asking for any shift in feeling. Self Kindness enters
Speaker 1: this point when these choices feel uncertain. Because grief already
Speaker 1: carries enough weight, any added pressure to do things perfectly
Speaker 1: only adds to the load. Meanwhile, allowing space for rest
Speaker 1: or for doing less on certain days keeps the focus
Speaker 1: on what actually helps. Although the world may continue at
Speaker 1: its usual speed, the inner pace can stay slower and
Speaker 1: still remain valid. Therefore, reminders to treat oneself gently become
Speaker 1: part of the daily rhythm rather than an extra task.
Speaker 1: Will return after this short break. Because grief follows no
Speaker 1: fixed schedule, patience with yourself becomes part of the process itself.
Speaker 1: Many people notice an inner voice that asks whether the
Speaker 1: feelings should have eased by now. However, that voice often
Speaker 1: echoes messages from others who have not walked the same path.
Speaker 1: In other words, the criticism about taking too long rarely
Speaker 1: matches the actual experience of loss. Instead, consider how you
Speaker 1: would respond to a friend who described the same situation.
Speaker 1: You would likely sit with them without rushing their story.
Speaker 1: You might acknowledge that their timeline makes sense given everything
Speaker 1: they carry. The same steady presence can turn toward yourself
Speaker 1: during quiet moments when doubt surfaces. Although the world keeps
Speaker 1: moving forward, your own pace deserves respect because it reflects
Speaker 1: the depth of what is changed. Since the listeners who
Speaker 1: wrote in shared such different timelines, it becomes clear that
Speaker 1: comparison adds little value. Meanwhile, extending compassion helps create space
Speaker 1: for the connection to the person who is gone to
Speaker 1: stay present without pressure to fade. For example, one listener
Speaker 1: described choosing a short pause each morning to notice what
Speaker 1: feels true right then. This grief morning check in lasts
Speaker 1: only a few minutes and involves writing a single sentence
Speaker 1: about the current feeling. Because it matches the rhythm of
Speaker 1: daily life, it fits without adding new demands. The practice
Speaker 1: reminds you that kindness toward yourself supports the ongoing process,
Speaker 1: rather than trying to speed it along. On top of that,
Speaker 1: the same approach works at bedtime, when waves of memory arrive.
Speaker 1: You can speak a few gentle words to yourself the
Speaker 1: way you would comfort someone else. Although it may not
Speaker 1: remove the weight, it softens the edges of self judgment
Speaker 1: that sometimes appear. Ultimately, these small choices build a steadier foundation.
Speaker 1: Hope grows from the knowledge that patients practice today can
Speaker 1: continue to meet you tomorrow. Whatever the day brings. Grief
Speaker 1: moves at its own pace, and that pace belongs only
Speaker 1: to you. Because each person walks through loss differently, there
Speaker 1: is no moment when you should have it figured out
Speaker 1: or set it aside. The reality is that the connection
Speaker 1: you hold can stay present even as days turn into
Speaker 1: weeks and months. Meanwhile, many people find that allowing this
Speaker 1: truth brings a quiet steadiness instead of the pressure to
Speaker 1: move along on someone else's schedule. In the next episode,
Speaker 1: we will look at gentle ways to mark small moments
Speaker 1: of remembrance in ordinary routines. That said, the practices we
Speaker 1: touched on today, like choosing a short pause each morning,
Speaker 1: remain available whenever they fit your rhythm. Thank you for
Speaker 1: spending this time with a show. Your willingness to sit
Speaker 1: with these ideas matters because grief often feels isolating until
Speaker 1: we hear that others carry similar weights. If this podcast
Speaker 1: helps you make sense of your shit, join our Supporters
Speaker 1: Club for three dollars a month ad free listening in
Speaker 1: early episodes. Independent media only stays alive when listeners back it.
Speaker 1: You can find the link to join in the episode description. Ultimately,
Speaker 1: this simple closing thought is this patience with yourself, open
Speaker 1: space for whatever comes next, without demanding that anything change
Speaker 1: right away.