Sunny Side Up: Love doesn’t end at death

Grief doesn’t disappear with time so much as it changes, as we learn how to live with loss alongside the ongoing demands of our lives. — Tribune News Service

Over the Christmas period, I received messages from people living with grief at times that are meant to feel happy, joyful, and filled with hope.

Anniversaries and cultural celebrations often carry an emotional weight that can be difficult to anticipate when someone we love is no longer physically present to share them with us. These moments can make us feel a mix of emotions all at once, leaving us confused about why things suddenly feel harder.

For many years, managing grief was understood through the idea of letting go, with the assumption that healing involved drawing a line under the loss and moving on with life as though the relationship had ended. That approach reflected the psychological ideas of the time, when grief was treated as something to be resolved through detachment from the person who had died.

Over the past few decades, bereavement research has come to recognise that most people don’t experience healing through detachment, but through finding ways to continue the bond following physical loss. Grief doesn’t disappear with time so much as it changes, as we learn how to live with loss alongside the ongoing demands of our lives.

This becomes especially apparent when there is a sense of unfinished business, perhaps words left unsaid, tensions never resolved, or the feeling that there was never quite enough time together. In these cases, the idea of moving on can feel unrealistic, as though something meaningful is being asked to vanish before it has been properly acknowledged.

More recent thinking about grief highlights how common it is for people to maintain an ongoing inner connection with those who have died as part of healthy adjustment. It isn’t about pretending someone is still alive, but acknowledging that such relationships continue to influence how we think, feel, and live.

When my grandmother died in 1992, I was nine years old, yet even now, decades later, there are songs she loved that I still listen to, and stories she used to tell that I replay in my mind. My relationship with her didn’t end when she died, but it did change over time as the pain of loss softened. She was a strong-willed woman, full of stories, very much the centre of her family, and someone whose presence shaped those around her. Although she’s no longer physically here, her influence hasn’t disappeared, and I certainly still feel the love and connection we used to share.

When we’re able to process grief in healthy ways, many of the initial difficult emotions we feel tend to soften, not because the relationship matters less, but because we find ways to integrate the loss into our lives. To make us feel better, people can sometimes try to qualify our grief or compare our loss to supposedly greater losses suffered by others. But grief is extremely personal and no two people will experience the death of a loved one in the same way. Each person’s experience is shaped by the specific relationship they had with the person who died, which is why general advice falls flat.

What tends to help more is acknowledgement, and recognising that some days can be harder, and that anniversaries, festivals, and celebrations can stir complicated feelings. For those supporting someone who is grieving, presence matters more than advice, along with a willingness to allow emotions to simply exist without trying to tidy them away. 

And when it comes to maintaining our connection with loved ones, continuing our bond can take many forms, including writing letters, keeping a journal, revisiting shared places, or even having conversations with them in our minds. Many people find comfort in reflecting on what the person might have thought or said, or noticing how shared values continue to influence their decisions. These bonds can include warmth and affection, and they can also hold frustration or anger, which are normal parts of grief.

When emotions are suppressed, whether by ourselves or by others, the opportunity to make sense of the loss is reduced, which can prolong distress rather than relieve it. It’s important to remember that grief isn’t an illness to be cured, but a human response that asks to be felt, understood, and slowly integrated into how we continue living.

This can be particularly challenging during festive periods or anniversaries, when social expectations encourage cheerfulness regardless of how someone might be feeling. Allowing space for grief at these times can feel awkward, but it opens room for honesty and connection rather than stifled endurance.

Continuing our connection with someone who has died is natural because love doesn’t end at death, even though the relationship changes. In whatever way feels right for us, remembrance becomes a way of cherishing the person and honouring what they gave us and how it informs who we are today.

Sunny Side Up columnist Sandy Clarke has long held an interest in emotions, mental health, mindfulness and meditation. He believes the more we understand ourselves and each other, the better societies we can create. If you have any questions or comments, e-mail [e-mail]. The views expressed here are entirely the writer's own.