I can’t count how many thoughtful friends have shared the TED Talk by Nora McInerny, the author and founder of the Hot Young Widows Club. (If you’re unfamiliar with this club, consider yourself fortunate. Despite its playful name, it’s a group no one wishes to join, as membership requires enduring a profound, life-altering loss.) In her talk, Nora emphasizes that we don’t move on from our grief; instead, we move forward while carrying it with us.
“A grieving person is going to laugh again and smile again,” Nora explains. “They’re going to move forward. But that doesn’t mean they’ve moved on.”
The notion is straightforward enough. I’ve been a widow for 1,138 days and have been acquainted with grief even longer, starting from the moments when doctors informed me my young husband had only weeks to live, leading me to grieve the future we would never share. After all this time, I believed I understood what it meant to move forward, not simply move on.
If you’d asked me just a few days ago, I would have confidently claimed I was progressing in my grief journey. Over the past three years, I bought a new house, embarked on two new careers, and even dipped my toes into dating. I allowed myself to feel joy and sadness on special occasions, openly remembered my husband, and reflected on our life together. I was following Nora’s advice: moving forward with grief beside me.
Yet, in reality, I wasn’t. As I observed friends advancing in their lives, I felt increasingly left behind.
Last weekend, the man I’m dating—let’s call him Mark—invited me to take my kids on a hike with him and his son. I eagerly accepted for two reasons: I wanted to get my kids away from screens for a while, and I was grappling with the lingering effects of an intense wave of grief. I thought that a change of scenery and some fresh air might help.
I assumed hiking meant sticking to a well-trodden path, which is why I thought it was fine to wear platform sneakers. However, about seven minutes into our hike, Mark took a sharp turn and began climbing uphill through the trees. My kids and I followed him, unaware of the adventure that awaited us.
Before long, we were jumping across rocks to cross streams, hoisting ourselves over boulders with the help of tree branches, and squeezing through narrow stone openings. For most of the hike, I felt unsteady and disoriented. Eventually, we found ourselves atop a waterfall, gazing down at the hikers who had taken the familiar route—the same path I had always chosen.
Amidst a wave of grief, a scraped knee from a sharp branch, and the dizzying height of our vantage point, the idea of “moving forward with grief” suddenly resonated with me in a profound way. I realized I had grasped the “with grief” aspect, but the “moving forward” part was not as I had envisioned.
I had equated moving forward with constant doing. And I had indeed been busy—buying a house, starting careers, dating. But upon reflection, I recognized that this movement wasn’t truly forward. I had moved just down the street, my new house still in the same neighborhood. My running route hadn’t changed at all.
While I had pursued two new careers, they were merely hobbies I had enjoyed before becoming a widow. Neither pushed me out of my comfort zone. And although dating was new territory—especially online dating—I found myself retreating from experiences that would require me to adjust any part of my life before my loss.
The truth was that my so-called steps forward were merely superficial. I was just shifting sideways in my comfort zone, in a life I had built with my husband, despite his absence. I recognized that my grief now occupied more space than my old life allowed, and I was aware that I no longer fit.
It took a literal detour and stepping into the unknown, into a situation I wasn’t ready for, to finally understand that “moving forward” encompasses more than just the ability to live and laugh again after a loss. Yes, learning to laugh is vital for moving forward with grief, but standing atop that waterfall made it clear that moving forward also involves recognizing that your journey looks different now than it did before your loss—and grieving that change. It’s about letting go of what no longer fits and fully embracing what does. Sometimes, it might even mean taking a different path, even if it’s not the one you’re used to (and even if you’re wearing the wrong shoes).
For more insights on navigating grief and loss, check out this helpful resource on family building options.