Grief doesn't run on a schedule, but most of us try to put it on one.

We whisper to ourselves, “I should be over this by now,” as if the heart were a project with a deadline instead of a living, breathing part of us. Grief isn’t a problem to fix; it’s love trying to find a new way to live after loss.

When something or someone dear is gone, your whole inner world gets rearranged. The routines that once felt automatic now feel heavy. Simple tasks take more energy. You might find yourself crying at odd times, forgetting basic things, or feeling numb when you think you “should” be devastated. All of this is your nervous system working hard to digest what happened.

Allowing time to process grief is not the same as waiting passively. It’s a choice to move more gently through your days, to stop judging your experience and start noticing it instead. It sounds like:

“I’m not broken. I’m adjusting.”
“Of course I’m tired. My heart is doing heavy work.”
“It makes sense that this song, this date, this place hurts.”

Give your grief some structure without putting it on a stopwatch. That might look like setting aside ten quiet minutes in the morning to journal, pray, or simply sit with what you’re feeling. It might mean taking a slow walk after work, letting memories rise and fall without rushing to distract yourself.

Your body also needs time. Grief is physical: tight chest, aching muscles, restless sleep. Offering your body regular meals, water, movement, and rest is not indulgent—it’s first aid. You’re building the strength to carry a loss that won’t disappear overnight.

If you like something practical to hold onto, try this: pick one small, repeatable ritual that says, “I am allowed to feel.” Light a candle at the same time each evening. Write a few lines to the person you lost. Place your hand over your heart and take five slow breaths. Let these acts mark your permission to heal at your pace.

One of the kindest things you can do is remove the word “should” from your grief vocabulary. There is no “right” timeline. Some days you’ll feel almost normal; the next day a wave will knock you flat. That doesn’t mean you’re going backwards. It means your heart has more to say.

And you don’t have to do this alone. Let trusted people know where you really are, not where you think you’re supposed to be. A support group, a counselor, a faith community, or one honest friend can hold space when your own strength feels thin.

In time—and it will take the time it takes—grief softens its edges. The loss doesn’t vanish, but your relationship to it changes. Tears and tenderness can live side by side with laughter and new beginnings.

You are not failing because you still miss them. You are human, and your love is still alive.

Give yourself time. Give your grief a voice. And let this season be what it is: a passage, not a verdict, on the rest of your life.