Grief Creeps In: When the Hardest Days Aren’t the Ones You Expect

Grief is rarely predictable.

We often brace for the birthdays, the anniversaries, the “firsts” — the holidays, the memories with fixed dates. We stock up on tissues, take time off, light candles, set boundaries, look at photos, reflect. We anticipate the wave and do what we can to anchor ourselves when it hits.

But the truth is: milestone days are often held by ritual. We prepare. Others might reach out. There’s an expectation that these dates will carry weight — and strangely, that collective awareness can bring a sense of steadiness. We give ourselves permission to feel.

It’s the other days that take you by surprise.

The ordinary Tuesdays. A song in a café. The smell of someone’s perfume at the shops. A photo tucked in the back of a drawer. An ad on TV. A name you weren’t expecting to hear. That’s when grief creeps in — not as a tidal wave, but as a slow, quiet pull beneath the surface. You’re caught off guard, not by memory, but by meaning.

And perhaps the hardest part is this: no one else notices.

When the world expects you to have “moved on,” your grief might just be moving in deeper. Not because you’re broken — but because you’re still connected and processing the depth of your grief and transition.

The second year is often referres to as the loneliest year.

People often talk about “getting through the first year,” like it’s some sort of finish line. The truth? The second year is often harder. The shock has worn off. The scaffolding of support has thinned. People stop checking in. The world continues — and you’re expected to as well. But internally, you’re still adjusting to the permanent absence of someone who mattered deeply.

In the first year, you may be surrounded. In the second, you begin to see the shape of the rest of your life — and the grief sharpens in that realisation. This isn’t said to discourage. It’s said to normalise what so many people experience but feel ashamed to speak aloud.

At Blaze Coaches, I’ve walked alongside many professionals, carers, parents and leaders who’ve said:

• “I thought I was doing better.”

• “Why is this harder now?”

• “Is something wrong with me?”

No. Nothing is wrong with you.

You’re grieving. And grief is not linear.

You’re learning how to carry what was once unthinkable.

And just because the world gets quieter, doesn’t mean you need to silence your sorrow.

So what helps when the world moves on but your grief remains?

• Acknowledge the invisible anniversaries – not just the dates, but the places, smells, seasons, and routines that carry memory.

• Be honest about your energy – the second year can bring delayed fatigue. You’re doing more emotionally than others may see.

• Surround yourself with the right people – those who understand that grief doesn’t follow a timeline.

• Create your own rituals – even a daily moment of stillness, journalling, or lighting a candle can be grounding.

• Let your emotions speak – tears, anger, numbness, nostalgia — all of it is valid.

• Speak it out – whether in coaching, with a counsellor, or with someone you trust. The act of saying it out loud relieves some of the pressure.

We live in a society that doesn’t always give space for grief, especially in the workplace. At Blaze Coaches, I am committed to changing that. Because unspoken grief shows up in performance, relationships, health and leadership. When we learn to honour it — personally and professionally — we don’t just survive. We find new ways to live with meaning.

If today feels heavy, and there’s no calendar reason for it, I want you to know: you’re not imagining it. You’re not behind. You’re not weak.

Grief is the echo of love. And sometimes, it shows up quietly — not with dates, but with depth.