Grief Comes When It Wants To

I was listening to a podcast recently, and the woman speaking said something that stopped me in my tracks: “Grief never hits me on the actual day. It’s never the anniversary or the birthday or the date marked on the calendar. It’s always random. Out of nowhere”.

I felt that. It landed in my bones.

Grief doesn’t wait for permission. It doesn’t show up neatly on the days we prepare for it. Instead, it most often sneaks in when we least expect it, in moments that seem ordinary—until they suddenly aren’t.

Grief decided to make an unexpected visit on my stepdaughter’s birthday.

I was focused on celebrating her in all the ways that make her birthday special. Suddenly, in the middle of her celebration, the grief hit. Hard. Not because the date itself held significance for my loss, but because it was another moment that my brother, Griffin wasn’t here to share. Another milestone he never got to see. Another reminder that

life keeps moving forward, and he doesn’t get to move on with it or with us.

I didn’t expect to feel grief that day. Grief doesn’t care what I expect.

So, I let myself feel it.

Truly feel it.

I sat with it. Reflected on it. Let it crash over me.

Until finally, slowly, I moved forward.

Not by pushing it away, but by carrying it with me.

Hearing someone else put words to that experience was like being seen in a way I didn’t even know I needed. It was a reminder that grief is unpredictable, messy, and deeply personal—but it’s also shared. Others do get this. And that matters because sometimes, the hardest part of grief isn’t just the loss itself. It’s the feeling that no one else

understands how it sneaks up on you, hijacks your day, and leaves you breathless.

But they do.

And maybe that’s the comfort I needed in all of this. That I am not alone in the randomness of grief, the weight of it, the way it lingers.

That somewhere, someone else is sitting with their grief too, feeling it, and then finding the strength to keep going.

Just like I am.

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Olivia Harrell lives in Baldwin, Maryland, with her husband, two young children, and a Bulldog named Lola. She lost her brother, Griffin, to an accidental overdose from Fentanyl on September 25, 2023. Her monthly blog examines the twists and turns of grief and healing. Olivia loves to spend time with her family, make sourdough from scratch, and exercise. She is also incredibly thankful for the community of LITT and invites others with a similar loss to participate in LITT’s Sibling Support Group. For more information click here.