Grief Doesn’t Ask For Permission

Grief isn’t polite. It doesn’t wait for the right moment or show up in neat stages. It crashes in when you least expect it. Or sits quietly in your bones for days.

Sometimes it hits like a wave. Other times it’s background noise — dull, heavy, always there.

People like to talk about “closure” or “moving on,” but I’ve learned that grief isn’t something you get over. It’s something you carry.

The Things People Don’t See

Grief is forgetting how to function in the middle of a perfectly ordinary day.

It’s standing at the sink and suddenly crying over a tea towel they once bought. It’s not knowing who you are without them. It’s scrolling past old messages you can’t bring yourself to delete. It’s wearing their jumper just to feel okay enough to leave the house.

Sometimes it’s numbness. Sometimes it’s rage. Sometimes it’s laughing at something daft and then feeling guilty for smiling.

Grief is full of contradictions. And all of them are allowed.

What I Wish More People Knew

– There’s no time limit.
– “Strong” isn’t always a compliment.
– You don’t owe anyone your recovery.
– The world moves on — that doesn’t mean *you have to*.

And most importantly:
**You are not failing because it still hurts.**

Carrying, Not Curing

At the Mark Hewitson Foundation, we meet people in the middle of their grief — not at the end of it. Because there often is no “end.”

We offer small grants. But they come with something bigger: understanding.

We know grief isn’t just emotional. It can affect your body, your finances, your ability to eat, sleep, cope. And that’s valid. Whether you’re grieving a person, a relationship, a future you thought you’d have — it all matters.

What Grief Has Taught Me

– Love doesn’t end when someone dies.
– There’s strength in asking for help.
– Sometimes surviving is enough.
– You don’t have to make sense to anyone else.

Grief changes you. And that’s okay.

You are still allowed joy. Still allowed hope. Still allowed rest.