Grief Is Not Moving On

Grief is the voice of what is gone. Not only the people we lose but dreams unmade, dignity frayed, and pictures with emptied frames. Grief is a reminder of what could have been, of memories we will never make.

You can try to bury that sort of thing. I get it. I’ve tried it. It seems easier to sever or shove it all into a box and force it shut. The more you try to bury grief, the more it demands to be heard. The more you deny what the loss meant to you, the more you disappear. The voice of grief makes its way through the seams, bursting at every clasp. The voice of everyone and everything buried runs up your throat, demanding to shout itself into being again.

Grief is a story gasping to be told.

What will never be is as much a part of you as what has been.

I’m telling you this because nobody else told me:

There is no such thing as closure.

There is no final stitch, no last loop.

We do not move on. We move with—with the pain, with the loss, with the absence. Some sorrows cannot be disposed of, but we can embrace living alongside them. Grie becomes a companion - a constant reminder that life will never be how it once was.

If you keep going, I hope I can impart three things.

One: Your loss is yours - nobody else’s.

Two: Your loss is not something you get over but something you carry everywhere you go.

And three: You can take as long as it takes.

Reflect: How does viewing grief as a constant companion change your attitude toward your sorrow? Does it bring you any relief to know that the closure we have been told to seek may not exist?

Pray: Dear God, help me to make peace with my grief. Make me unafraid of what I feel, and help me to be unafraid of the grief I see in others. Comfort me, and grant me strength. Amen.

Was this plan helpful? We adapted this plan from As Long As You Need: Permission to Grieve by J.S. Park.