Sometimes grief arrives in the few seconds between reaching for your phone and remembering that you can no longer call that person.
You already know they are gone. Yet some familiar part of you still expects them to answer.
For me, that moment captures something essential about grief. Our relationships become woven into daily life: whom we tell our news to, where we seek comfort, how we imagine the future, even who we feel ourselves to be. When someone dies, all these familiar ways of living have to meet a deeply unwelcome reality.
We may grieve their presence, the future we expected with them, and the things that will now remain unsaid. Sometimes there is anger, guilt, relief or unfinished conflict alongside love. The relationship does not have to have been uncomplicated for its loss to hurt.
Grief can also be exhausting. Sleep, appetite, concentration and energy may be affected. An ordinary task can feel unusually demanding when so much of our attention is occupied by an absence.
As a psychologist, I would be careful about presenting mindfulness as a way to make this pain disappear. A grieving person already faces enough pressure to recover, stay strong or “move on.”
Where mindfulness may help is in making room for what is happening without immediately judging it. There is a difference between feeling a wave of sadness and adding, “I should be over this by now. Why am I still like this?” That second layer can make an already painful experience lonelier.
A mindful response might be as simple as recognising, “I miss them terribly right now,” noticing the tightness in your chest, and allowing yourself to decide what you need next. Perhaps you need to cry, speak to someone, or turn towards an ordinary task for a while.
There is no requirement to remain immersed in sorrow. Grief often involves moving between attending to the loss and attending to life. A moment of laughter does not cancel love. A difficult anniversary does not erase the adjustment that has already taken place.
If paying attention inward becomes overwhelming, it is reasonable to shift towards your surroundings or seek another person’s company. Mindfulness should be gentle enough to accommodate your limits.
I think its place in grief is modest but meaningful: helping us meet a painful moment with a little less self-criticism, while gradually discovering how to live with a relationship that remains important even in absence.
