You Don’t Have to “Move On” From Grief

(air hissing) (mouse clicking) (gentle music) Headspace Studios. (gentle music continues) (upbeat music) Hi, it's Dora, and this is "Radio Headspace." I'm so glad you're here. (upbeat music continues) So when my stepmom passed away, it shook our family to the core. She had been a part of our lives for years, steady, loving and present. And then suddenly she wasn't. In the days and weeks that followed, there was a lot of silence, some tears, and eventually my dad said something I'll never forget, "It's time to move on." Not harshly and not without care, but with a kind of finality, like, "This is the moment. Let's close the door and keep walking." And even though I understood where he was coming from, something inside me hesitated because I wasn't ready, not to move on, not to erase, and not to skip the part where grief was still alive in my body. (gentle music) Grief doesn't follow a timeline. It doesn't respect check boxes or expiration dates, but culturally and often generationally, we're taught that it should. We hear things like, "Don't dwell on it. Be strong. They would want you to be happy, and it's time to move on." But the truth is, we don't move on from grief, we move with it. And mindfulness helps us understand that. It teaches us that grief is not a problem to solve, but an experience to carry. It shifts the goal from closure to integration, from forgetting to remembering with a sense of softness and care. (gentle music continues) Watching my dad grieve was humbling. He was quiet, he stayed busy, he kept things moving forward, meals, errands, bills, life. And at first I wanted him to slow down to feel more, to cry, to sit with the sadness like I was. But over time, I realized he was grieving the only way he knew how. He grew up in a different time, in a different culture with different models of strength. For him, moving on wasn't avoidance, it was survival, it was resilience in motion, and that gave me so much compassion for him, but I also knew I needed something different. I needed to feel the grief in my body, to sit in the memories, to not rush the process just because the world around me wanted me to get over it. So I gave myself permission to move slower, to feel everything in waves, to not apologize for being tender longer than others might expect. And over time, something began to transform. The grief didn't disappear, but it became a part of me, something I carry and not something I fix. (gentle music continues) So if you find yourself grieving, whether a person, a place, a role, or a version of yourself, here are a few gentle reminders. Release the pressure to be over it. There is no deadline for healing. And you're not broken if you're still feeling. Practice self-acceptance in grief. Your emotions might not...