Grief is like weather

I've never been a fan of describing grief as coming in stages.

It sounds too linear, like one thing follows another, until finally, you're fixed.

Grief doesn't work like that.


Neither do I think that describing grief as coming in waves quite gets it.

There's more too it than that. More variance, more complexity; more change.


So how about we think of grief as being like the weather – varied, unpredictable, always there.


A morning mist hangs over us, but is dispersed.

Sun is forecast; it pours.

Fair weather is beaten into submission by hailstones while a rainbow hurries past.

Although prepared for the day, we are often caught out.


Grief is like the weather.

Part of life.


What do you think?



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