How Would They Know?

"I don't know what nor can I provide what you need, unless you tell me" - To my niece in 2022

Grief is heavy. Not like “I need a nap” heavy — I mean body-feels-like-cement, brain-fog, heart-shattered-into-a-million-pieces type heavy. When you lose someone — a parent, a spouse, a child, a sibling — your whole world shifts. You don’t just “get over it.” You learn to carry it, and some days it carries you.

And here's the wild part: in those moments when we need support the most, folks suddenly lose their psychic abilities. They can't sense what we need, they start assuming, and baby… assumptions in grief is a recipe for confusion, isolation, and a whole lot of “let me mind my business before I say something I can’t come back from.”

Because grief is not simple. It’s messy, personal, and confusing — especially for people who ain’t never been through what you’re going through. And Lord, the comments… whew. When someone hits you with "You're not over that yet?", it takes every ounce of your Holy Spirit, your granny’s prayers, and your favorite praise & worship playlist not to snap.

Listen, when someone asked me why I still wasn’t “over” my brother, who passed in 1997, I had to dig deep. The petty in me wanted to say, “And you’re not over him still cheating? Or that lil' addiction you keep sweeping under the rug?” But growth, Jesus, and therapy held me together. I was 10 when he died, I didn’t even have the words for grief yet. I didn’t even know my feelings had names.

Just when I got to a place where I could honor his memory with peace, my momma died. And then somebody really had the nerve to ask me, a few months later, “How can you celebrate your brother but not your mother?” Helfa … because SHE JUST DIED. This grief ain’t a microwave meal. You don’t set a timer for three minutes and ding! You're healed! Tuh! If it was it wouldn't be so many of us struggling.

There is no timeline, no finish line, no magic moment where you suddenly stop missing them. You can celebrate and still ache. You can laugh and still cry. You can move forward without ever forgetting.

Here’s what we as grievers have to remember (even when we don’t feel like it):

1. Give people grace.

They don’t get it unless they’ve lived it. And even then, grief hits all of us differently.

2. Set boundaries around your grief.

Tell people what you need, and what you don’t. If not, you’ll isolate yourself and they’ll think you don’t need them, when in fact you do.

3. If you pushed people away, repair it when you're ready.

Reconnect. Tell them, “Hey, I was hurting. Here’s how you can show up for me now.”

I was blessed when my momma died, my friends didn’t understand my pain, but they showed up anyway. They sat with me when silence was all I had. They listened when all I could say was “I miss her” or “I’m angry.” And you know what? They’re still checking in 13 years later, especially on Christmas and Mother's Day. And I love them for that!

I had to learn to stop lying and saying “I’m okay.” Some days the most honest thing I could say was:“I'm not okay today. I miss her. I’m tired. I need somebody to sit with me.”

Grief is not a straight line, it’s waves, spirals, and surprise attacks at the grocery store near the candy aisle for no good reason. When we let people in, they can help us ride those waves instead of drowning in silence.

Communication is a Lifeline

I know, I know, we don’t want to be a burden. But silence will have you feeling forgotten, resentful, and alone — when there are people ready to love you through this if you let them.

Ask for specifics:“Can you sit with me?” “Can you pick up dinner? I haven’t eaten.” “Can you come watch a movie with me? I don’t want to be alone.”And baby, tell them what you do NOT want, too. One thing my sister-friend Jessica taught me was saying:“I don’t need that right now.”

Protect your peace and your heart. And let me say this, before there i any confusion protecting peace is not avoiding the hard conversations because you have already rehearsed the convo in your head and now you don't want to talk about it. It is setting boundaries, being transparent and allowing them to make the choice on how they will respond.

And let’s talk about vulnerability.

I'm going to hold your hand when I say this.... You will need to be vulnerable with the ones you trust with your feelings because being soft when life feels hard is scary! WHEW CHILLLEEE! And being brave enough to say “I’m hurting." or letting people see your tears is not weakness, it’s healing in motion. Ok. let go of my hand. Is you coo? Ok Coo! Love you!

But seriously silence builds walls. Vulnerability builds bridges. Build the bridge. Your loved ones are waiting for permission to be there for you.

This is why I created Wine & Release, a semi-annual many retreat, where women can breathe, cry, laugh, and heal without judgment. Because grief needs community. It needs safe space. It needs grace. And there is nothing like being around women who seek to understand and then follow it with support and love.

Final Word

Grief will change you, but it doesn’t have to isolate you.

You don’t have to walk through this alone, NOT EVER. The people who love you want to show up, they just need to know how.

So the next time grief feels like too much, SAY SOMETHING!! Text someone. Ask for what you need and what you need from them. Let love in.

It’s okay not to be okay. And it’s more than okay to reach for support. No one will ever be able to read your mind, so they have no clue what you need without you speaking.

You deserve softness, comfort, and community, even in your deepest grief, and there people who want to give you just that if you let them.