My partner passed away from brain cancer four years ago. In the year that followed, I struggled to even utter the word “passed.” I spent that entire time writing blog entries about grief using euphemisms and gentle phrases instead. Certain days—like birthdays and anniversaries—were exceptionally painful, while others, such as the anniversary of his diagnosis or milestones that marked hope lost, felt jagged. Yet, amid this turmoil, the everyday weight of grief was a constant, and the passage of time often felt like a cruel trick.
Gradually, as I navigated life as a widow and single parent, I found that coping became slightly more manageable. I could finally say “my partner passed.” I could type it without immediate tears. Special days still stung, yet those ordinary days began to feel somewhat bearable. My understanding of what “bearable” meant had shifted, but it started to make sense in its own way.
Eventually, I noticed that even the most difficult anniversaries became less agonizing. Admitting this brings its own guilt, yet I hope it offers comfort to anyone currently in the depths of grief.
People often say that time heals all wounds. While many of those well-meaning phrases about grief sound nice, they can often be misleading or even hurtful. However, there is some truth in the notion that time changes things. Time doesn’t heal wounds; it softens them. If we’re fortunate, it can smooth out the sharpest edges. Sometimes, though, time doesn’t deliver even that relief.
Recently, a friend failed to show up when I needed support, and I found myself feeling isolated. The reasons behind their absence were inconsequential. The incident itself was minor—a brief moment of disappointment—but the feeling of abandonment hit me hard. It felt like a crushing weight, reminiscent of the early days of my grief.
Then I glanced at the calendar and realized it was November 15. The intensity of my emotions became clear. On November 15, 2017, I felt profoundly alone. My partner’s third tumor had been discovered just weeks earlier, and his health was rapidly deteriorating. That day, we endured an exhausting eighteen hours in the hospital, only to be told in the early morning that we would need to remain overnight due to the complexity of the MRI. When I mentioned to the doctor that our child was turning six the next day, her expression softened. She understood the unspoken truth: my partner needed to be there for our child’s birthday, and she offered the option to leave against medical advice, provided we would return.
That moment underscored the heartbreaking reality that my partner was slipping away, even as he was physically present. I realized I was alone in fighting for him, for us, and for our family.
Four years later, that memory remains painful. November 15 still cuts deep. Time hasn’t softened this wound; in fact, it feels sharper now. The truth is that the wound from that day hasn’t healed because time doesn’t erase all pain. For some wounds, the passage of time can sharpen the memories to a point where even a slight reminder can evoke raw, intense feelings.
Maybe this realization sounds exhausting or discouraging. But perhaps healing isn’t the ultimate goal. It’s okay if time doesn’t heal every wound. Sometimes, it’s sufficient that time allows us to extend grace to ourselves for the wounds that remain open.
When I recognized the date and acknowledged how grief resides in our bodies, I understood my emotional response. I took a deep breath, then another. I sat with my grief, honoring the part of me that felt isolated and scared back in 2017. I allowed myself to feel that loneliness, while also embracing the 2021 version of me, who is no longer afraid of solitude and has learned to thrive in it.
The weight began to lift, and a glimmer of light pierced through the darkness. Not because time had healed anything, but because I found grace amidst my pain. And for me, that was enough.
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Summary:
The article explores the complexities of grief and how time affects the healing process. The author shares personal experiences of loss and the enduring pain of specific memories, while also emphasizing the importance of self-compassion and understanding in navigating grief.