What Counts as Grief?

Last week we explored one kind of grief.

This week, I'd like to zoom out a bit.

We often think of grief as something reserved for life's biggest losses.

I'm not so sure that's true.

Grief is one of those things that is so layered, so complicated, and so very personal. We tend to think of grief as the big losses in life—a loved one, a job, a beloved pet, a home, or a business. Those are the losses society generally agrees we're "allowed" to grieve, even if nobody seems to agree on what that grief is actually supposed to look like.

But who decided grief needed a ranking system anyway?

Maybe grief isn't measured by the size of the loss, but by what that loss meant to you.

And what about the little things?

Do we get to grieve when it's finally time to replace the car that's faithfully carried us for years? Or when the row of apple trees we planted unexpectedly dies? What about losing the second half of your favorite pair of socks?

Or when your favorite author decides they're done writing about your beloved characters?

(I'll admit, even typing that list made me wonder if it sounded a little trivial.)

And then there are all the things in the middle.

Do we give ourselves permission to grieve when a dear friend moves away? When a child climbs onto the school bus for their very first day of kindergarten? When someone we don't know personally dies, but their passing still changes something in us? When we—or someone we love—receives a difficult diagnosis? An injury? What about the loss of a life we thought we were going to have?

There is such a sliding scale for grief.

How often do you hide your grief, whether it's over something big or something small?

Do you try to protect your family from the weight of the big things?

Do you protect yourself because you're afraid someone will decide your sadness isn't "important enough"?

Who gets to decide what's acceptable?

And where did those voices come from that tell us what is—or isn't—worthy of our tears?

Dictionary.com defines grief as "keen mental suffering or distress over affliction or loss; sharp sorrow; painful regret."

I love how broad that definition is.

Grief can be sadness over something you had, something you've lost, or even something that never happened at all.

That's a pretty wide net.

And how often does grief visit alone?

Maybe never.

Think about losing a parent while also feeling relief that they aren't suffering anymore.

Or watching your child head off into the world. There can be grief because life is changing... mixed with overwhelming pride because they're exactly where they're meant to be.

Sometimes grief arrives carrying anger.

Sometimes relief.

Sometimes gratitude.

Sometimes guilt.

Sometimes all of them at once.

Who says it has to be just one thing?

I don't really have answers here.

I simply want to be one person in your life who gives you permission to have your experience without feeling like you have to justify it to anyone.

And I mean anyone.

I'm not talking about using grief as permission to be hurtful to yourself or someone else.

I'm talking about giving yourself the privilege of deciding what matters to you... and allowing yourself to feel whatever comes with losing it.

Acknowledge it.

Honor it.

Grieve it.

We're human.

We don't get to control everything that happens around us.

But we can allow ourselves to honestly experience what happens within us.

Whatever you're grieving, I hope you'll let yourself feel it.