We’ve all heard the old saying: Only two things are certain: death and taxes. But I’d add a third: change. From the moment we’re born, we start changing shape, morphing into some adult figure, and that’s the place we stay for quite a while. Then aging creeps in again and starts making more noticeable changes. At this point, the proximity of our own death starts to become more real than it ever did. And that takes us to the final change that we’re aware of as humans: gone.

Of course, many of us who’ve lost a loved one before his expected time can tell you that even this last change is not one you can put a clock on. It’s no wonder we humans cling to familiar patterns and routines. We’re doing our best to create an environment of stability, a sense of certainty. Animals do it too, though I suspect that has more to do with daylight and the need to hunt.

Once you arrive at grief, you’re at an almost invisible kind of change. So much that’s big and solid and important to you has just disappeared, and yet you look the same, and much of your life is the same, at least to an observer. This tremendous change is being felt on the inside where people can’t see. They might assume that you’re hurting, but they can’t really experience it. It’s not as though you’ve just aged thirty years. And yet, it is one of the biggest and most difficult changes to process.

But like finding comfort in keeping a routine, we seek comfort in the grieving process by learning what to expect next. It’s one of the reasons grievers look for each other. It’s an unfamiliar experience and we want to know: how bad is this going to be? What will happen to me?

I’ll tell you some of the changes I’ve experienced in grief. I went from being a happy, competent, sane woman to becoming miserably sad with a confused brain that caused me to behave in perilous ways. I stayed there a long while. Then I changed again, almost back to my old self but not really. I’d added some things like a keen awareness of change itself, of my mortality and that of everyone I love, and real wonder about what happens to us all after this life.

As someone who’s grieved, you can’t really ignore big change anymore. Now you know this is all temporary in a way you only pretended to know before. That’s not such a bad thing, I’m finding. I try (imperfectly) to be a better person, to be more tolerant of others and my own shortcomings.

Change is ever present.

Death is always imminent.

Love is a reprieve from it all.

May your continued love for the person you lost hold you up through this great change until you can breathe again with a bit more ease.

More:

How Long Does Grief Take?

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