A Time to Grieve

Grief is a hard topic — but it’s one we need to stop treating as taboo. We often think of grief as something reserved for death, for funerals, for deep and obvious tragedy. But the more I live, and the more I work with others, the more I realize: grief shows up in far quieter ways, too. And sometimes, it hurts just as much.

One of the biggest things I’ve learned about grief is that it often has less to do with someone dying and more to do with what’s changed or ended while still remaining physically present — people, places, roles, identities, even faith communities. As I move through midlife, I find myself wading through many different types of grief. And I know I’m not alone.  When I talk with clients about this, I often bring up something I learned in church: the idea that life unfolds in seasons.

The passage in Ecclesiastes 3 gives us such a poignant picture of this truth:

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven…”

”…a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted…”

”…a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.”

There is a sacred rhythm to life, and when something ends — even something good — it can leave us feeling lost. So how do we manage the things that come and go in our lives?  I believe we have to speak about it. Or write about it. Or at least reflect on it.  We have to allow ourselves space to name the loss. To ask:

• What am I grieving?
• What lessons have I learned?
• What do I need to do to place a little bit of closure on this season?

Grief doesn’t have to be about death. We grieve change, endings, and transitions.  We grieve relationships that fade. The end of being an athlete. The loss of a job. The closing of our college years. Even the shift from one version of ourselves to another can bring a deep, quiet sadness.

Recently, I’ve been grieving the loss of a church family — a place that once felt like home, a source of connection and purpose. Spiritual losses can sting in a unique way. They shake the foundation of not just where we go, but who we are. And when God feels connected to that grief, the pain can go even deeper.  But in those times, I remind myself: maybe this ending is making space for something else — even if I can’t see it yet.  It’s been almost a year, and I still don’t have a clear vision of the future. But I pray. I wait. I trust that what’s meant to be will unfold in time. I just have to listen.

People often say “time heals all wounds.” Honestly, I don’t think that’s true. Time doesn’t necessarily heal. It reshapes. It changes our relationship with the pain. The guilt and sorrow might lessen, but the loss doesn’t just disappear. It becomes part of us.  And maybe that’s okay.  It’s okay to mourn the things in your life. It’s okay to grieve what was — even if it wasn’t tragic. Even if no one else seems to notice.  Whatever season you’re in — the ending, the waiting, or the beginning — let yourself feel it. Name it. Honor it.  Because grief, in all its forms, is a sign that something mattered. And that is always worth acknowledging.