Grief Comes in Waves

Grief Comes in Waves

I lost my mom when I was fifteen. She passed away from ovarian cancer, and back then, I thought grief was something you survived once and then slowly left behind. I figured the pain would be unbearable for a while, and then one day it would loosen its grip and let me go.

Some parts of that were true. The first few years were the hardest. Everything felt heavy and sharp, and I was just a kid trying to learn how to live in a world that didn’t look the same anymore. Over time, I found a rhythm. Life kept moving, and I moved with it. I learned how to function again. I learned how to be okay.

What no one ever really tells you is that grief doesn’t disappear. It just gets quiet for a while.

Grief comes in waves. There are seasons where you feel steady, grounded, almost normal again. And then there are seasons where it feels like you’re back at the beginning, where every day feels heavier than the last. Not because you’re weak, but because life has moments where you need that person more than ever.

When I was in college, I was independent like most college kids. I was building my own life, figuring myself out, learning who I was outside of home. Most people that age aren’t deeply involved with their parents in the same way. You’re busy becoming your own person. During that time, the grief wasn’t as loud. That didn’t mean I missed her any less. It just wasn’t sitting front and center in my mind every day.

But life has a way of shifting.

You grow up. You fall in love. You get engaged. You start making grown-up decisions about marriage, family, and the future. And all of a sudden, the kind of support only a parent can give feels important again. It feels needed. It feels deeply wanted.

That’s where I am now.

It’s not that I ever stopped missing my mom. That wouldn’t be true. I miss her every single day. There was just a time when I was busy doing life, focused on moving forward, and the ache stayed a little quieter in the background.

Now, it’s louder.

Now I’m navigating relationships, big life decisions, and planning a wedding. And the grief has a way of settling back in, heavy and tender all at once. I just want my mama. I want to talk to her. I want her to hold me, hug me, and tell me everything is going to be okay.

I know it’s going to be okay. I’ve learned how to be strong. I’ve learned how to carry myself through hard things. But sometimes I don’t want to be the strong one. Sometimes I don’t want to have to know. I want her to tell me. I want to hear it in her voice.

Grief doesn’t mean you’re moving backward. It just means you’re living. It means you’ve stepped into a chapter where love is still needed, even if the person you love isn’t here the way you wish they were. Maybe that’s the hardest part, realizing that healing doesn’t mean the longing ever fully leaves. It just changes as you do.

If you’re in a season where the grief feels heavier again, you’re not failing. You’re growing. You’re missing someone who was meant to walk beside you through this part of life.

Some waves are just bigger than others.

XO - Em