You don’t always see it coming.
Grief doesn’t knock. It doesn’t RSVP.
It just shows up—sometimes quietly, sometimes like a storm—and takes a seat at the table.
It might arrive during a Father’s Day brunch when you glance at the empty chair.
Or in a graduation crowd, where you feel the absence of the one who would’ve cheered the loudest.
Or at a summer wedding, when joy fills the air but your heart aches for the one who isn’t here to dance with you.
Grief doesn’t follow a calendar.
It doesn’t care that you were “doing better” last week.
It can sneak in during the most ordinary moments—the smell of a certain cologne, a favorite song, the way the light hits the kitchen counter just right.
I’ve learned this truth both in my own life and in the lives of those I’ve had the honor of walking alongside: grief doesn’t follow a script, and it never fully leaves the room.
When my dear friend Alisse lost her momma, I stood beside her—not just in the logistics of probate, but in the emotional waves that came without warning. Some days she was strong, decisive, carrying the weight like a warrior. Other days, her texts or calls were so heavy with pain that I’d find myself sitting quietly afterward, tears in my eyes, unable to shake the ache she carried. Her grief would spill over into my spirit. And though I wasn’t the one who had suffered the loss directly, I felt it deeply.
That’s something we don’t always talk about—how grief touches those of us who walk beside the griever. It’s not always loud or dramatic. Sometimes it’s the quiet weight that follows you after a phone call. The deep breath you take before replying to a message that’s more heartbreak than words.
And just like that, grief pulls up a chair—not only at their table, but at yours too.
I’ve learned not to rush that moment. Not to try to fix it or tie it up with a bow. Just to be there. To witness it. To carry a little piece of it, and let that be enough.
If you’re supporting someone through loss right now, the best gift you can offer isn’t a solution. It’s presence.
A quiet hand on the shoulder. A text that says, “Thinking of you.” A willingness to let them talk about it—or not talk about it at all.
In A Nutshell . . .
This month, as we gather around tables for Father’s Day, graduations, weddings, and summer barbecues, let’s remember the invisible guests.
Let’s honor the ones we’ve loved.
Let’s hold space for those who are grieving.
And let’s give ourselves permission to feel it all—because love and loss often walk hand in hand.