When it comes to grief, there are so many unspoken rules and stereotypes about how we’re supposed to mourn. One of the biggest? That visiting the cemetery is the most “appropriate” or “respectful” way to honor someone who has died. But what happens when the cemetery doesn’t bring peace, but instead pain, guilt, or even resentment?

Dating after loss. Even typing that feels strange, right? It’s one of the most misunderstood, most opinionated topics out there. Everyone seems to have an idea of what’s “right” or “wrong” for the grieving heart — except, often, the griever themselves.

The truth? Society expects grief to be neat, tidy, and linear. If you’re too sad, they worry. If you’re too happy, they worry. Either way, they want to tuck you into a neat little bubble — not to protect you, but because they think they know best (even when they’ve never lost anyone themselves).

But grief doesn’t play by their rules. And neither does love.

When people dump judgments onto public grief, it doesn’t just sting the person in the spotlight (and let’s be real, Erika probably isn’t scrolling the comments). It hurts everyone else who’s grieving quietly in the shadows.

I know it may sound odd, but grief has taught me so much about who and what it is, how it may appear (out of nowhere I might add), what it looks like in my body, mind and spirit, how it will shape my life and relationships, and often reshape those things.

We’ve gotten very good at not feeling. Outrage, blame, and endless hot takes are easier to wear than the quiet truth that someone is gone and a family is shattered. But bypassing grief erases the very people we should be holding close. The harder thing—the necessary thing—is to sit with the pain, witness the loss, and choose compassion over noise.

Here’s the thing: when someone is grieving or just drowning in life, we overcomplicate what to do. The truth? Just clean the f*cking crockpot. Take a small task off their plate. Bring dinner. Take out the garbage. Grab their groceries.

What happens when you're grieving… but also feel this quiet, persistent nudge to dream again?

Losses Become Gains’ Tara Accardo dives deeper…

Labor Day weekend carries with it a quiet kind of grief—the subtle ache that comes with the end of summer. As pools drain and cicadas fall silent, we're reminded that time is always moving. This long weekend, meant to honor rest and hard work, also asks us to let go: of barefoot days, warm nights, and the version of ourselves that lived in the sun. Maybe, in saying goodbye to the season, we’re also learning how to hold gratitude and grief in the same breath.

The surprising reason why talking about grief is just like Spanish Class.