Tag: life

On Grieving While They’re Still There

The author reflects on the complex nature of grief, expressing sorrow for both tangible and intangible losses related to a failed marriage, changing identity, and professional dreams. They explore the concept of grieving while still living, likening their experience to sticky grief, which cannot be easily wiped away, yet acknowledge the persistence of hope and joy.

March 22, 2026

They’re. They are. There they are. Alive and well.

And here I am…grieving them. Him. It. All of it. 

I’ve become a bit of an expert on grieving someone still alive. On grieving the inanimate AND what’s been kept on life support and who has been kept on actual life support. All those things and people that are about to go. Whether you know it or not. Whether you want it or not. Whether you caused it or not (or took a big chunk of the blame for it). 

My sticky grief. I hate grape jelly. If I were to have grape jelly on my hand, I would wipe it off with a napkin or a wipe. I can’t grab a napkin or a wipe to clean up the sticky grief inside of me. Instead, I’m writing on it. It’s the next best thing. 

What am I grieving? All of it, really. 

What is all of it? Well, if I could put things on the gravestone in the image for this article, the bottom text would be it…

The marriage that I put to rest because it emptied before the love ran out. The future I thought he and I would have. The life I worked so hard to build and protect so we could have that future together. The body I used to have, which won’t stop changing as time ticks by. The apartment we shared for four years, where our three fur babies were being raised. The local Starbucks and Dunkin in that neighborhood. The park our two dogs loved. The clinically bright bedroom we shared with the extremely small closet and nonfunctioning outlets. 

My fairly young brainchild: to walk across that stage for my master’s degree in special education. The classrooms I’ve left behind. The children sat in them. Teaching them, laughing with them, crying with them, the nonstop overstimulation, answering nonsense questions and the important ones too. 

My financial independence (for now) and increased social mobility (again for now). 

I feel like I’m a female, modern-day Job, if you know your Abrahamic texts. And all I can do is submit and praise. My only options left. And just keep living, of course. At least I still have my health, my family, my wits, and my ability to find and live within the joy. (I know I have a lot left.)

Why does everything have to hurt so bad, though? Why is it so sticky? Why does it not matter if you saw it coming or not? If you were waiting or not? If you knew it needed to happen or not?

It hurts just the same. Why?