Our playbook for unexpected grief days

It was Election Day a few months back, and Craig and I were basking in the glory of his current job which gave him the day off. He drove the big kids to school, I cleaned up from breakfast and got the baby ready, and then together with Hannah in tow, we drove to the polls.

We were coming up to a stoplight at an intersection near our house, reminiscing about previous Election Days in our lives, telling each other stories we hadn’t thought to share before.

I remembered the years I worked in the financial industry and would leave extra early in the morning to be one of the first in line at my precinct to vote. The day I’d gotten there and had to wait for forty minutes because everybody else did the same thing. Childhood trips to the polls with my parents, where my dad explained the voting process and how important it was. Watching him carefully fill in each oval with the black felt tipped marker the precinct provided.

Craig recalled going to the polls after work, because he usually was already working by the time precincts were open in the morning. We laughed together as he shared about a local election he and Katie had gone to together, early in their marriage. Halfway through filling out his ballot, he forgot one of the names, so he popped his head over the top of his booth to shout across the room to Katie, “Who are we voting for again?”

It was a sweet, simple, funny memory—one I hadn’t heard before, and one Craig hadn’t remembered in a long time.

Sometimes a long-forgotten memory is all it takes to shift gears from a normal day to a day where grief is an incredibly close companion.

How we navigate unexpected grief days

When grief sweeps in unexpected, we lower the expectations we had for the day.

And when I say that, I mean we lower them to the floor. We surrender them.

We pivot from whatever we’d hoped to accomplish or do, and we refocus on what is best and most needed to support our grieving family member. We choose to prioritize releasing the emotion that’s come up so that we can continue to grow in health and wholeness, individually and as a family.

On this particular day, Craig and I had loose plans to have a bit of a date day between Hannah’s nap-times, while the big kids were in school. We were going to grab lunch at a favorite local restaurant and maybe go for a walk, or snuggle on the couch with a movie if the weather didn’t cooperate.

By the time we’d gotten home from the polls, our plans needed to shift.

We maintain wise perspective and speak truth to each other.

Changing plans to accommodate grief has the potential to feel uncomfortable or frustrating. The grieving spouse might feel like they are a burden. They might not want to dig into the memories and emotions that surfaced unexpectedly. On the flip side, the non-grieving spouse might struggle to surrender the day’s plans to grief. It might feel like the same old song and dance that never really goes away, or a frustrating inconvenience. Both might have a desire to fill the day with mindless busyness or stuff the sadness and heavy emotions in a closet and pretend everything is fine.

But the truth is that a gift has been given.

This unexpected grief day was an opportunity for Craig (and I) to take one more step forward in the grieving process. It was an opportunity for us to link arms—or sit face to face on the couch—and wade through the emotions together. It was an opportunity for us to go deeper in our friendship and love and care for each other.

It’s a day for me to remind him of truth.

His grief is not burdensome to me.

I am not scared of his hard emotions.

He is not alone on unexpected grief days.

Because at the end of the day, that’s what having a partner through grief looks like. We don’t get to choose whether grief shows up. Where there has been loss, there will be grief. It will show up. But we do get to choose what we do with it and how we care for each other in the midst of it. Being a partner in grief looks like not being afraid of the heaviness, not being afraid of tears or pain, keeping our perspective rooted in wisdom, and reminding our spouse of what is true.

We may feel grief is inconvenient, feel it is burdensome, feel like pushing it away.

But the truth is that unexpected grief days are an opportunity for a step toward healing. That is a good, beautiful, healthy thing—a thing to keep our minds fixed on and remind each other of.

We prioritize comfort.

Working through grief is often done best in the midst of comfort. Comfortable surroundings. Comfort food. A comforting presence.

When we hit unexpected grief days as a family, we usually make a few comfort-related adjustments. We return to simple, favorite family meals—pancakes and eggs is a go-to for us. If we originally had plans to go out or socialize, we might adjust and choose a cozier alternative. We often will make room for a favorite movie together in the evening.

Ultimately, on this particular day, instead of going out for our date day, Craig and I stayed home. I picked up carryout from the restaurant we’d planned to go to, and we ate together by the window.

We spent a lot of the day sitting on the couch together with a box of tissues. Sometimes we were quiet, but more often than not we were talking through memories. It was a hard day, but we chose to take advantage of the gift we’d been given—a day to grow closer together and take another step forward in the journey of grief.

It was the best thing we could have done.