Grief doesn’t follow a schedule. It doesn’t care how old you are, how prepared you thought you were, or what else you’re juggling in life. This post is for anyone who has felt blindsided by loss—especially in midlife, when it seems like you’re supposed to have it all together. If you’ve lost someone or something you love and you’re trying to make sense of the overwhelming sadness, you’re in the right place.
My Story
I didn’t just lose my mom—I lost my best friend. And just when I was still catching my breath from that heartbreak, I lost my dog, Molly, too. She wasn’t just a dog. She was my shadow. My silent comfort. The one who was always there no matter what—just like my Mom, but in a different way, obviously. Both family and both so hard to lose. Yes, this happens to everyone in life. You know it’s coming someday, but you don’t know how it feels until it happens to you.
It all happened around the same time my boys left for college. Suddenly, my house was quiet. My roles had shifted. Actually, I felt I had no role at all. My regular everyday was gone. And the grief? I wasn’t sure what I was actually feeling. I was completely numb, yet it crashed through my life in waves—some small, some massive, some out of nowhere.
The Silence Was the Hardest Part
Afterward, what hit me most was the silence.
My mother had been living with me for some time, so the house was never truly quiet. Mom’s favorite Hallmark channel was always on in the background along with the hum of the oxygen concentrator. Molly was always nearby, always there, along with the sound of her paws right behind me. In those final months of my mom’s life, Molly was my emotional support (along with my other family members, of course). She just knew. When I needed space, we’d go outside. She’d sit beside me while I cried.
Then they were both gone. The house didn’t just feel quiet—it felt wrong. The silence was truly loud. The stillness was a constant reminder of what used to be. Who used to be. And I didn’t know what to do with myself.
People will say it gets better. And maybe in some ways, it does. But really? You just adjust. You learn to live with the missing pieces. You carry the love with you, even as you learn to keep going without them.
Learning to Live with Memories
I used to think grief would feel like a storm that eventually passed. What I’ve learned is that it’s more like weather that moves in and out. Some days are clear. Some days surprise you. Some days, you catch yourself smiling—then feel the ache hit just as fast. I remember when my father passed away, I would find myself laughing about something and quickly stop myself because I felt guilty in a way. How could I be happy when one of the most important people in my life is no longer here?
I haven’t figured it all out. I still have moments where the quiet feels sharp. I still reach to call my mom and for routines that don’t exist anymore. But slowly, I’ve learned to live with memories instead of silence. I try to live with them in my heart and honor them in small ways throughout my day.
Grief doesn’t go away. It becomes a part of you. If you’re reading this and feeling like it’s swallowing you whole, I’m right with you and you’re not alone.
