Visiting My Grief: Learning to Live Alongside Loss

People don't ask if you're doing better.

They ask, "How are you doing?"

But they ask it with a heaviness—hopeful that you are better, and with the solemnness of knowing that you probably aren't.

Losing my father to cancer changed the way I understand that question. Over time, I've realized there isn't a single answer that feels completely right. Sometimes grief encourages me to be honest. Other times, it feels like it's taking up too much space, becoming another piece of baggage I have to carry with me. There are moments when sharing it feels freeing, and others when it feels exhausting to explain.

Grief is often an obvious secret. The people closest to you know it's there. You know it's there. Yet because it is so deeply personal, it can feel impossible to put into words. Everyone recognizes its presence, but no one can fully experience it the way you do.

I've learned that grief has a way of changing the day without asking permission. It can make a good day bad, and it can make a bad day even harder. Sometimes it brings reflection. Sometimes it brings perspective. Sometimes it offers an unexpected escape into memories that remind you of what once was. Other times, it simply reminds you of what has been lost.

As both a therapist and someone who grieves, I often encourage people to visit their grief. If you don't make time to sit with it, it has a way of visiting you instead—often at the moments you least expect it. Avoiding grief doesn't make it disappear. It simply waits.

I've found that making intentional space for the heavy parts allows more room for the light. It creates space for laughter without guilt, for joy without feeling like you're leaving someone behind, and for moments of peace that can exist alongside profound loss. Grief and joy were never meant to compete with one another. They can coexist.

So when someone asks me, "How are you doing?"

The most authentic answer I can give is, "I'm grieving."

Not because grief is all that I am, but because it is something I will always carry. My grief is a reflection of my love, and that love didn't end when my father died. It simply changed form.

Maybe that's what I've learned most about grief: we don't move on from it.

We learn how to visit it.

And with time, those visits become another way we continue loving the people we miss.

My Daddy & Me

<3 Ashley