Grief and Mental Health

This post almost didn’t happen this week.

About a week and a half ago, I lost my grandmother. She was 94, which is an impressive run by any standard. While it’s sad that she’s gone, there is also some comfort in knowing she’s no longer in pain.

That’s one of the strange things about grief. It can hold more than one truth at the same time.

I also missed posting last week. That wasn’t an accident. I was with my family, where I needed to be.

Grief is complicated on its own. When you add mental health into the mix, it can get a little more unpredictable.

For me, there’s always a quiet awareness in the background. Grief has the potential to pull me into a depressive episode if I’m not paying attention. Not guaranteed, but possible. So I try to approach it with a little more intention.

One thing that helps is giving myself space to feel it.

Usually, that means allowing a full day where I don’t try to manage or minimize anything. If I’m sad, I’m sad. If I cry, I cry. It’s not the only day I’ll feel it, but letting it exist fully at the beginning seems to take some of the pressure off later.

After that, I try to stay somewhat engaged.

In this case, that meant helping where I could. We spent time going through photos of my grandma, picking pictures for a slideshow. It was emotional, but also grounding in a way. It gave me something to focus on that still felt connected to her.

I know that’s not always an option, especially if you’re not part of the immediate planning. When that’s the case, sometimes staying engaged just means staying connected to people or finding small ways to keep moving forward.

The viewing and funeral were what you would expect. Quiet, heavy, reflective.

I found myself trying to stay composed, mostly for my mom. She had just lost her mother, and I didn’t want her to feel like she needed to take care of me too. Whether that’s the “right” approach or not, I don’t know. It’s just what felt right in the moment.

Grief isn’t linear. That turns out to be very accurate.

It shows up when it wants to. A memory, a photo, something small and unexpected. The goal, at least for me, is not to avoid it. It’s to acknowledge it without letting it take over everything else.

Sometimes that means talking about her. Sharing stories. Remembering things that have nothing to do with the end of her life.

Sometimes it means talking about something completely unrelated, just to give my brain a break.

There hasn’t been much anger with this loss.

My grandma had dementia, and she had been dealing with the physical realities of aging for a while. There is sadness there, but also a sense of relief. She is not struggling anymore. That matters.

Everyone handles grief differently.

And when you add mental health into it, there isn’t a single “right” way to navigate it. Some people reach out for extra support from a therapist. In the past, I’ve needed short-term medication to help manage anxiety during times like this. Sometimes you don’t know what you need until you’re already in it.

That’s part of the process too.

If there’s one thing I try to keep in mind, it’s this:

Give yourself some grace.

Grief is one of those experiences that doesn’t follow rules, timelines, or expectations. It’s something we all go through in our own way, at our own pace.

This is just what it looks like for me, right now.