It’s a beautiful day. You’re enjoying time with friends or sitting quietly with a coffee, people-watching, when suddenly, a wave of grief rises up and tears begin to flow. It feels unexpected. Nothing in the moment seems to point to a specific memory. But the grief is there — it’s real, and it hurts.
Loss is deeply tied to the human experience. Some losses are clear, like the death of a loved one. Others are more subtle and less recognized — what we call ambiguous loss. This might include losing a sense of identity through retirement, friendships that end after a move, divorce, the decline of health or independence, or a fading connection to culture or the environment. The list is long, deeply personal and woven throughout our lives.
While grief following death is more widely acknowledged, ambiguous loss can be harder to name, and harder for others to understand. Death often comes with a sense of finality, a clear before and after and social rituals like condolences or memorials. Ambiguous loss, on the other hand, can feel murky and ongoing. There’s often no closure, no visible signs and no social script for how to mourn. Yet these losses are just as real and just as deserving of care, even if they go unseen.
You might be familiar with the stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance, a framework introduced by researcher Elisabeth Kübler-Ross to help us understand our emotional responses to loss. But these stages are often misunderstood as a neat, linear process. In reality, grief is anything but tidy.
You might move through some stages, skip others, or circle back to the same feelings more than once. There is no set timeline for healing and no “right” way to grieve. It’s a deeply personal process that unfolds in its own way — and, some might argue, never fully ends. That’s why grief can show up in moments we least expect, even when we think we’ve “moved on.”
And grief doesn’t just affect our emotions, it shows up in our bodies, too. People often experience fatigue, muscle tension, changes in appetite or sleep, headaches, or a general sense of heaviness. It can even weaken the immune system or affect concentration. These physical responses are a natural part of grieving, reminding us that loss impacts us on every level, not just in our hearts, but in our whole being.
Given how common loss is, it’s striking how often grief is sidelined, compartmentalized, or buried deep in our psyche. Many of us don’t feel there’s space to talk about what we’re experiencing or to have those experiences validated. Social and cultural forces can make it hard to grieve openly, but I want to say this clearly: whatever you’re grieving, it’s okay. More than okay, it’s profoundly human. And allowing ourselves to feel our grief, to move through it, is essential to our health and well-being.
It can also be a challenge to accept that grief is not something we “get over.” It’s something we learn to carry. When we give ourselves permission to grieve, we’re also honouring what mattered, the relationship, the dream, the version of ourselves that changed. Grief isn’t a sign that something went wrong. It’s a sign that we loved, that we tried, that we connected. It reminds us that we’re human.
Still, because grief isn’t always visible or easy to explain, it can feel isolating. Others may not know what to say. We might not know how to ask for support. And some days, we may not even have the words to describe what we’re feeling, and that’s okay too.
There are gentle ways we can support ourselves in the midst of grief. Simply naming what we feel, even quietly to ourselves, can be a powerful act of self-compassion. Personal rituals, like listening to music, walking in nature, creating art or journalling, can help us feel grounded. We might speak with someone we trust or reach out to a counsellor or support group. And sometimes, just making space to rest, physically and emotionally, is enough.
Grief ebbs and flows. It can show up uninvited and soften over time, though it may never fully leave. But the more we allow it to move through us, the more we begin to understand its quiet wisdom. Grief can help clarify what we value, deepen our empathy and guide us to live with greater intention.
Whatever form your grief takes, know that you’re not alone. Your sorrow is a reflection of how deeply something mattered and your loss deserves to be met with tenderness and care.
Sarah Tesla is a clinical counsellor on the Sunshine Coast who supports the diverse needs of clients in rural and remote communities. This column is informational and is not intended to be a substitute for counselling support or services. If you or someone you know is struggling with their mental health or substance use, please seek professional support.
