Grief Isn’t Just About Death — It’s About All the Goodbyes You Didn’t See Coming

Grief doesn’t always wear black.
It doesn’t always come with flowers, funerals, or final words.
Sometimes it slips in quietly, without ceremony.
Without a name.

It’s the ache after a friendship fades without explanation.
It’s the silence between two people who once knew each other completely.
It’s the version of you that never got to be.
The home you left behind.
The language you forgot how to dream in.

Grief lives in transitions, in empty spaces, in what-could-have-beens.
It hides in our calendars—anniversaries we don’t talk about, dates that no longer make sense.
It hides in the clothes we keep at the back of the closet.
In the way we look away when someone says, “But that was so long ago.”

We are taught to grieve death.
But what about all the other endings?

The relationships that unraveled slowly.
The job you outgrew but stayed in.
The city you left with a knot in your throat.
The child you couldn’t become. The parent you never had.
The faith that no longer fits.

Grief asks for reverence, not comparison.
It doesn’t need to be justified to be real.
And it certainly doesn’t need to be big to be sacred.

You don’t have to call it grief to feel its weight.
But giving it a name can be the first step in letting it breathe.

You are allowed to mourn what didn’t happen.
And you are allowed to heal without rushing.
— Reflections from the Therapy Room