Elizabeth Kübler-Ross gave us the five stages of grief, and while revolutionary, it left us with a dangerous illusion: that grief is linear. That we move from Denial to Anger to Bargaining to Depression to Acceptance, and then we are “done.”
Grief is not a staircase you climb. It is weather you live through.
Some days, grief is a clear sky. You can see the horizon, you feel okay, and you think you have finally “moved on.” Then, without warning, the clouds roll in. The humidity rises. It is a sudden downpour that soaks you to the bone—triggered by a song, a smell, or a memory that catches you off guard.
And much like weather, you cannot control grief. You cannot logic a hurricane away. You can only dress for it. You can seek shelter. You can sit on the porch and watch the rain fall, knowing it will not last forever.
This perspective offers profound relief because it removes the pressure to “get over it.” You cannot fail at grieving. You can only feel it. Some seasons are rainier than others. The goal is not to reach the top of the stairs; the goal is to learn to dance in the rain, or to simply stand still and let the storm pass through you.