I’ve been widowed twice, and I’ve lost many loved ones in my lifetime. Those kinds of grief run deep and have changed me forever. But over the years, I’ve also noticed other losses that carried their own kind of grief. Losses that aren’t always named, but still leave an ache.

I’ve started calling it hidden grief.

For me, hidden grief shows up when something familiar slips away. It hasn’t only been about people I’ve lost. It’s also been the job that once gave me a sense of purpose, the home that held my memories, or the end of a relationship I thought would last. Sometimes it even hides inside the small changes, a routine disrupted, a role shifting, or a life transition like retirement that brings both freedom and a sense of loss for what’s no longer there.

I’ve learned I’m very much a creature of habit. My comfort zones have always tethered me to a sense of safety. And when those comforts have been upended, I’ve found myself grasping for the familiar. That grasping, that longing, has been grief too. I’m not so much a comfort zone kind of person anymore. Over the years I’ve actually become pretty uncomfortable trying to find comfort zones.

What I’ve had to remind myself is that hidden grief doesn’t mean I’m too sensitive. If anything, it’s proof of how much I cared. It’s a reminder that my life has been meaningful enough to leave an imprint. That I’ve shown up with love, devotion, and hope.

For me, grief often feels like being stuck. A thought or emotion gets caught in a loop, replaying again and again, until slowly I can begin to make peace with it. I’ve learned the hard way that healing doesn’t come from keeping busy or pushing it away. It only happens in the silence, when I let myself feel what I’d rather avoid. It takes compassion to sit with the pain, to love myself through it, and to accept that whatever I’m grieving mattered. I miss it because it meant something.

Hidden grief has been a teacher for me. It’s shown me what mattered most, even when I didn’t realize how much it meant at the time. It’s reminded me that change and loss are part of every life, and that love, in all its forms, can help us heal.

So if you’re carrying hidden grief right now, I hope you’ll give yourself permission to take a break. Sit in the silence, even when it feels uncomfortable. You don’t have to rush your way back into “normal.” Grief has its own timetable and may resurface over and over across your life. That doesn’t make you weak, it just makes you human.

There are still days when hidden grief surprises me, and I have to remind myself that it’s okay to feel it.