I looked out at the stadium — hundreds, if not thousands, of people packed in with balloons, flowers, and a buzz of collective pride — and I saw something I had never noticed before. I worked at a school with a large population of immigrant families, and for many, this was the first person in their family to graduate high school, the first to prepare to attend college. I had always seen the joy. That day, I saw the grief woven inside it.

As Mother’s Day approaches, the world fills with messages of celebration—gratitude, flowers, brunch reservations, and reflections on what it means to be celebrated as a mother and to be loved by a mother.

For many… that lands beautifully.
For many others… it doesn’t.

We’re trying to build a bridge. But grief has taught me something different. No …you don’t. And even more surprisingly sometimes, neither do I.

My dead ends were chopped off. A new connection was made. All while wearing a cape. Turns out grief and split ends have something in common: you can only ignore them for so long before someone has to help you cut through them.

At Get Griefy, our Sports Grief Expert, Emilia Parga, breaks down why these tremendous athletic feats — while inspiring — can also be deeply grief-filled for those who don’t walk away with the win.

I had over a year to slowly detach myself from the home—a solid “anticipatory grief,” if you will. But suddenly it was the week before the move. Each day I came home from work, more of the house was packed into mighty cardboard boxes. Our home became a maze of bubble wrap and memories.

Grief is like treading water, and Erin’s been treading water for the past 12 years. A mother’s raw and honest retell of child loss, care giving, and getting by.

Recently, our community has seen increased immigration enforcement activity, leaving many students worried or grieving after a loved one’s detention or deportation.

Though not the same as death, this is a significant loss that can affect a student’s sense of safety and stability. As educators and caring adults, we play an important role in helping them feel supported and connected.

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…