When people talk about grief,
They often focus on the individual experience.
But grief also lives inside relationships as well.
It fundamentally changes the way we communicate,
The way that we cope.
And sometimes even the way we see each other.
What my husband and I have learned through our own journey has been profound.
Together,
We've navigated a life-changing spinal cord surgery.
Survived a devastating tornado and experienced most recently the sudden and unexpected loss of a sibling.
Each of those experiences has brought tremendous profound grief.
But not just grief for what happened.
We also have been grieving the lives we thought we would have.
Grieving the identities we once held and the certainty that we thought existed.
One of the hardest lessons for us has been realizing that we definitely do not grieve in the same way.
There have been seasons of crushing fatigue where even simple conversations or decisions felt impossible for one of us or both of us.
There were moments when we blamed each other.
And not because either of us was the cause of the pain,
But.
.
.
Because grief desperately looks for somewhere to land.
Sometimes we misunderstood each other's silence and other times one of us really wanted to talk while the other simply needed space.
Yeah,
It was awkward and it was really messy.
And at times it really felt incredibly lonely.
Even when we were standing beside the person we loved the most.
So what slowly changed for us wasn't that the grief has become easier.
But it's.
That we've become a little more softer with each other.
And this takes time,
It takes practice,
And we're definitely not perfect at it.
We stopped expecting one another to grieve the right way according to how we thought the other person should grieve.
And we actively began to make room for the way grief was actually showing up.
We learn to ask,
What do you need today?
Instead of assuming that we already knew.
We discovered that trust isn't built by having all the answers.
It's built one conversation.
One act of kindness or patience.
One day at a time and really committing to trying again if we got it wrong.
We also learned to focus on what we could control.
There is no way we could have anticipated or changed what happened to us.
But we could definitely choose how we showed up for one another.
We could move more slowly.
We could choose to prioritize rest.
Instead of pushing through exhaustion.
And we could choose to make recovery both physical and emotional.
A shared priority together rather than something to be done individually.
Perhaps most importantly for us,
We committed to keeping the conversation open,
Even when it felt excruciating and uncomfortable.
Respect didn't mean that we always agreed,
And there were more times we didn't agree than we did.
But it meant that we stayed curious about each other's experience instead of trying to fix it or defend our own position.
So if you're navigating grief as a couple,
What I want you to know is this.
It's okay if your journeys don't look the same.
Different doesn't mean disconnected,
And different doesn't mean different.
There's something wrong.
Sometimes the greatest gift you can offer your partner isn't advice.
Or solutions.
Rather,
It's the freedom to allow them to grieve in their own way.
While fully knowing that you're still walking alongside them.
Grief changes us.
But with patience,
Honesty,
Compassion.
And a willingness to keep choosing each other.
It can deepen our relationship in ways we never imagined.
So if you're navigating grief together.
Know that you're not alone.
And we extend you grace,
Gentleness,
And kindness along your journey.
Thanks for being here.
