There is a phrase we often hear after someone dies: “Time heals all wounds.”
It is usually meant kindly. People say it because they want to offer hope. They want to reassure us that the pain will eventually disappear and that one day we will return to who we were before.
But what if that is not how grief works?
What if grief is not something we “get over” at all?
I believe we grow around it.
The loss remains part of our story, but our lives slowly begin to make space for it. We learn how to carry the love, the memories, the anger, the unanswered questions and the absence. We may laugh again. We may make plans. We may even feel joy. None of this means we have forgotten the person who died.
It means our life has changed shape.
Grief does not follow a neat timeline
We often talk about grief as though it has a beginning, a middle and an end. Perhaps we imagine that the first few months will be difficult, the first anniversary will be painful, and then things will gradually settle down.
But grief rarely behaves like a straight line.
Grief can move forwards, backwards and sideways
You might feel that you are coping one day and completely undone the next. A song, a smell, a familiar place or a date in the calendar can suddenly bring the loss close again.
This can be confusing. You may ask yourself:
- “Why am I feeling this strongly today?”
- “Shouldn’t I be doing better by now?”
- “Have I gone backwards?”
- “What is wrong with me?”
The answer may be: nothing is wrong with you.
The NHS explains that there is no right or wrong way to feel after a bereavement. Grief may include sadness, anger, guilt, numbness, exhaustion or shock. These feelings may not be present all the time, and powerful emotions can arrive unexpectedly.
Perhaps the more useful question is not, “Why am I back here?”
Perhaps it is, “What has brought this feeling close to me today?”
The waves may change, even when the sea remains
In the early days, grief can feel like being pulled under by a wave. You may struggle to think, eat, sleep or complete ordinary tasks.
Over time, the waves may become less constant. There may be longer spaces between them. But when a wave comes, it can still feel powerful.
This does not necessarily mean that you are failing to heal. It may mean that grief and love are still connected.
We do not grieve deeply because we are weak. We grieve deeply because someone mattered.
Why can the second year feel harder?
Many people expect the first year to be the most difficult. This seems logical. The first year contains the funeral, the paperwork, the first birthday, the first Christmas and the first anniversary.
But the second year can bring its own kind of pain. Sometimes it can feel even harder.
The first year can be held together by practical things
In the first year, there may be many tasks to complete and people checking in on you. Friends and family may offer food, make phone calls or sit with you.
You may also be operating on autopilot. There is so much to organise that you do not have much time to stop and understand what has happened.
Then the second year arrives.
The forms have been completed. The visitors may have returned to their routines. The phone may ring less often. Other people may assume that you are “doing better”.
But perhaps this is the year when the permanence of the death begins to feel more real.
There is no longer a first birthday to prepare for. There is simply another birthday without them.
You may be grieving without the scaffolding
Sometimes people feel ashamed when the second year is painful. They may think:
“I should be further on by now.”
But further on does not mean finished.
It may mean that you are meeting a different part of the loss. In the beginning, you may have been grieving the moment of death. Later, you may begin to grieve the future you expected to have with that person.
You might miss who you were when they were alive. You might be facing decisions they would once have helped you make. You might be noticing all the moments you cannot share with them.
This is not necessarily going backwards. It may be another layer of understanding.
The stories we tell ourselves about grief
Grief is painful enough without adding judgement to it. Yet many of us carry powerful beliefs about how we are supposed to grieve.
“I should be over it by now”
Who decided how long grief should last?
There is no universal timetable. The nature of the relationship, the circumstances of the death, previous losses, family dynamics, culture, faith, health and available support can all shape the experience.
Two people can lose someone on the same day and grieve in completely different ways.
One person may need to talk constantly. Another may need silence. One may return to work quickly. Another may need more time. Neither response automatically tells us who loved the person more.
“If I enjoy myself, I am betraying them”
This is a painful belief that I hear often.
You may feel guilty for laughing, going out, meeting someone new or planning a holiday. It can feel as though pleasure is proof that you are leaving the person behind.
But can love only be demonstrated through suffering?
What if allowing yourself a moment of joy is not betrayal, but a way of carrying the person with you into the life that remains?
You can miss someone and enjoy a cup of tea. You can cry in the morning and laugh in the afternoon. Human beings can hold more than one truth at once.
“I need to stay strong for everyone else”
Being strong is often misunderstood.
Strength does not have to mean appearing fine. It can mean admitting that you are not fine. It can mean asking someone to sit with you without trying to make the pain disappear.
Sometimes the story of being “the strong one” becomes a prison. Other people stop asking how you are because they believe you can manage. You may stop asking for help because you do not want to burden anyone.
But what might become possible if you no longer had to perform strength?
We grow around grief
The phrase “growing around grief” suggests that the loss remains, but life continues to develop around it.
A tree does not erase a scar where a branch was removed. It grows around the place where the injury happened. The shape is changed, but growth is still possible.
Growing around grief is not the same as moving on
“Moving on” can sound as though we must leave the person, the relationship and the memories behind.
I prefer to think about moving forward while remaining connected.
That might mean:
- keeping a photograph nearby
- cooking their favourite meal
- visiting a meaningful place
- telling stories about them
- marking anniversaries in a way that feels right for you
- allowing your relationship with them to change over time
The person is no longer physically present, but the relationship may still influence who you are.
Grief can become less consuming without becoming less meaningful.
When grief feels stuck
Most grief does not require professional counselling. Support from family, friends, community groups, faith communities or bereavement charities can be deeply important.
But sometimes grief becomes so intense or persistent that daily life feels impossible.
You may feel unable to accept the death, constantly preoccupied with the person who died, overwhelmed by guilt, or unable to return to ordinary activities. Perhaps the pain is not becoming less intense over time. Perhaps you are functioning on the outside while feeling completely lost within.
This is where bereavement counselling may help.
What bereavement counselling can offer
Bereavement counselling is not about trying to remove your grief or persuading you to “move on”. It is a space where you do not have to protect anyone else from your feelings.
Together, we might explore:
- what the loss means to you
- the emotions you have been unable to express
- guilt, anger or regret
- changes in your identity and relationships
- how to manage anniversaries and difficult reminders
- how to live with the absence while maintaining a continuing bond
- what small steps might make life feel more manageable
Research into community-based bereavement counselling found that, among people experiencing elevated or high levels of complicated grief, counselling was associated with a greater reduction in grief symptoms over time. The study also suggested that the benefits could continue after counselling had ended. You can read the full bereavement counselling study here.
Counselling is not a promise that you will stop missing someone. It is an opportunity to be supported as you find a way to live with what has happened.
You do not have to wait until you are in crisis
You do not need to prove that your grief is “bad enough” before asking for support.
You can seek help because you are tired. Because you feel stuck. Because everyone else seems to have returned to normal and you have not. Because you are worried about the effect of your grief on your relationships, work or health.
If you are struggling with your mood, anxiety or ability to cope, the NHS recommends speaking with a GP. If you have thoughts of harming yourself or feel unable to stay safe, please seek urgent help through NHS urgent mental health support.
Asking for help does not mean that you are grieving incorrectly.
It may simply mean that you have been carrying something very heavy for a very long time.
A different way of thinking about healing
Perhaps time does not heal all wounds.
Perhaps time gives us opportunities: to speak, remember, rest, connect, understand and slowly build a life that can hold both the loss and the living.
Grief may always be part of you. But it may not always feel exactly as it does today.
You are not required to forget the person in order to live. You are not required to stop loving them in order to experience joy. You are not required to follow anyone else’s timetable.
We do not “get over” grief.
We grow around it.
And if your grief has become part of your life’s landscape, what might it look like to stop asking when you will be finished with it: and begin asking what support you need to carry it differently?