Today, I’m really starting to understand that there is no time limit on grief.
I remember a conversation with a former coworker where she told me about losing her brother. She said she hadn’t really cried or processed it at the time, but years later—out of nowhere—it hit her so hard that she had to take a full week off work. It had been over five years since he passed.
I remember thinking, Wow, how could it take that long to process grief?
And now, almost five years after losing my dad and my grandma within the same year, I understand exactly what she meant.
At the time, their passing was incredibly painful. But I was pregnant, had just had my son, and was dealing with so many other things that I’ll probably open up about another day. I never really had a moment to stop and grieve. I just kept going, because life didn’t give me the space to process it all.
And then, this morning, I woke up feeling a deep, aching grief—like it just happened yesterday.
I was scrolling through old pictures of them, missing them so much, and it hit me all over again.
Grief is different for everyone. And with all the changes in my life—especially over the past year—I find myself wishing more and more that I could just pick up the phone and call my dad. Just to hear his voice. Just to ask for his advice. Or to call my grandma and listen to her talk to me about anything and everything, the way she always did.
But that’s no longer an option. And when two of the people who were your biggest sources of love, wisdom, and guidance are no longer here to support you through life’s biggest transitions, it hurts in a way that’s hard to describe.
It’s crazy because, in some ways, it feels like the grief is hitting harder now than when they first passed. Maybe back then, it was just shock. Or maybe, because I watched them suffer, it felt easier to let them go. I wanted them to be at peace and no longer in pain.
But now, the pain of missing them is what lingers.
There have been times recently where I instinctively reached for my phone, thinking, Let me check on Grandma real quick. And in that split second, reality crashes down on me. It’s not that I forgot she passed. It’s just that, for a moment, I wanted so badly for that call to still be possible.
And when you realize it’s not? That’s when the grief sneaks up and hits you like a ton of bricks.
Even though I’ve made peace with their passing, I think I’m only now truly grieving—because I never gave myself time to before. I tried to keep moving, tried to operate as if nothing had changed. And now, it feels like I’m mourning them all over again.
Losing a parent, losing a mother figure—it changes you.
And as much as I would love to go back to the version of me that was full of energy, full of life, the truth is… I’ll never be that person again. Grief shifts something in you. It rewires the way you see the world.
That doesn’t mean I won’t be happy again. It doesn’t mean I won’t be full of life again.
But I’ll never be the same person I was before I experienced this kind of loss.
I think what makes grief even harder is that people assume the hardest part is immediately after someone passes. And in some ways, that’s true—there’s a wave of support, people checking in on you, being there for you.
But what about the moments years later?
The moments when you’re in the grocery store and a memory pops up, and suddenly you’re holding back tears in the middle of the aisle. The moments when you’re being quiet and people assume you’re being antisocial, when in reality, you’re just having a moment with your grief.
That’s the part people don’t talk about enough.
Grief doesn’t always happen all at once. Sometimes, it waits. It sits quietly in the background until one day, your brain finally decides it’s time to process what it had been protecting you from. And when that happens, you still have to get up, go to work, take care of your kids, and go about your day as if everything is normal.
Even when it’s not.
So, if you’re grieving—whether it’s been 10 years, 5 years, or a week—this post is for you.
This is your reminder to choose you.
To be gentle with yourself. To understand that grief has no expiration date.
And this? This is a hug—a virtual hug from me to you—because I get it. I really do.
And I want you to know that it’s okay to not be okay.
👉 Have you ever experienced delayed grief? How did you cope? I’d love to hear your thoughts—share your experience in the comments.
Unapologetically, Dorothy! ❤️
