Grief Seasons, Not Steps: Living and Grieving When There’s No Set Path

In grief - and life in general - we seem to aspire to the idea of forward momentum. We often talk about "journeys" and "taking steps," but lately I've been asking myself: where exactly are we heading?

I guess when you're young, it makes sense. Every year, there's something new to accomplish: finally getting your license or graduating from high school, for example. Many people feel like they're on a path that could involve things like college, career, new relationships, or kids. There's always another box to tick. 

But over time, I think many people find themselves in a place where the milestones are fewer and farther between, and they decide to cultivate a life where they stand. Speaking for myself, I'm an adult with goals and hopes for my life, but I'm not propelling myself toward a new destination. I'm here, raising kids, trying to do my job well, working to build a life of purpose, and hopefully managing to handle all the random obstacles life throws my way.

Ultimately, I've ditched the journey metaphor and now see life as a garden growing around me. In some seasons, my garden flourishes and blooms into something wild and wonderful. At other times, things struggle or even fade away. Sometimes the work I put into weeding and watering the garden is what allows it to thrive, while at other times, things that are out of my control destroy my patch of Earth. 

I may not have a green thumb in real life, but metaphorically, I still believe in my ability to plant seeds and nurture them, so the people, interests, and things I care about might continue to grow and add beauty to the world. The roots I’ve laid through work, family, and friendship ground me in a sense of purpose and meaning. Yet, having experienced loss and life’s many ups and downs, I’m also deeply aware that my garden is vulnerable and may not always thrive.

Grief is Like a Barren Season

We try very hard to make sure people understand that grief isn't linear and that there are no set steps, stages, or timelines. Yet, we admit to feeling drawn to metaphors like "journey" or "path" when describing the experience of life after loss. Of course, journeys can be roundabout. However, I suspect that when we use such imagery, people often picture something more like a line on a map.

I worry that the "journey" metaphor leads people to believe they must always be moving forward toward a "better" state of being, thus setting them up for frustration, because life—and especially grief—is inherently full of ups and downs. Of course, when a person feels bad, they naturally strive to feel better. But realistically, very few people, if any at all, manage to get to a place of eternal happiness and satisfaction. Because, as author Joan Didion famously wrote, "Life changes fast. Life changes in the instant. You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends." 

The cycle of life has its ups and downs, highs and lows. One day you’re feeling steady, and the next, something knocks you off balance. The task of living is not to avoid or outrun all negative feelings and experiences; rather, it is to find ways to withstand frigid winters without losing hope that spring will come again. It's finding the slow and steady resilience to nurture a life torn apart by loss.

Struggling, especially when you're grieving, does not mean you're backtracking. It certainly doesn't mean you aren't grieving "correctly." You're a human coping with enormous loss, and, painful as it is to admit, this is not the last time you'll face grief. Grief’s impact lingers, and as life unfolds, new losses happen to each of us. No matter what happens, you're never really back where you started because you've done some living. You've changed, and your landscape has too. It's become a little wilder and more unpredictable, but you've learned that you can survive and live to see your garden grow once again.

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