Grief is weird like that

Where do we go when the person who felt like home is no longer here?

I think the hardest part about losing someone is watching the world continue like nothing happened. The sun still rises, people still laugh, and life goes on. Meanwhile, you’re just there, existing, surviving, trying to understand how everything can feel so different to you when nothing around you has changed.

You’re still around people. You laugh with them, talk to them, get involved in conversations, go out, make plans, and do all the things you used to do. From the outside, everything seems fine. But somewhere in the back of your mind, there’s this feeling that something is missing. You can’t always explain it, and honestly, you don’t even know how to put it into words. You just know there’s a void inside you that nothing seems to fill.

in urdu there’s a saying that goes like:
بے نور سی لگتی ہیں تیرے بعد فضائیں
اب دیپ تو جلتے ہیں اجالا نہیں کرتے

And grief is weird like that. You think you’re doing okay, that maybe you’re finally learning how to live with it, and then the smallest thing brings it all back.

It could be a place you once planned to visit together, a song you used to listen to, or something funny that happens during your day. And your first instinct is still to tell them. You know they’re gone, but some part of you hasn’t stopped looking for them in the little moments of your life.

You still want them to know about the things that make you happy, the little wins, the random thoughts, and all the ordinary things you never realized were so special until you could no longer share them.

And I think that’s what hurts the most. It’s not just missing someone. It’s missing all the moments you thought you’d get to share with them forever. The plans that will never happen, the places you’ll visit without them, and the happiness that feels a little different when the person you want to share it with isn’t there.

People say grief gets easier with time. And maybe it does, in some ways. Maybe you learn to carry it a little differently. Maybe you have more good days than bad ones. But I don’t think you ever completely stop reaching for the people you love.

You just learn to live with the fact that they’re no longer there to reach back.

And sometimes, on a completely ordinary day, you forget that for a second. You see something beautiful, hear something funny, or experience a little moment of happiness, and instinctively, you want to share it with them.

Then you remember.

And somehow, it hurts all over again.

Maybe that’s what grief really is: learning to live a life that keeps moving while a part of you still wishes they were here to see it.