A Thousand Little Endings: Grief's Many Faces

Grief is more than just losing a loved one.

Don’t get me wrong—the death of someone close to us is monumental. It can impact every part of our lives, making even the simplest tasks feel insurmountable. It’s like a weighted blanket woven from heartbreak, isolation, and uncertainty has been draped over your mind.

But grief doesn’t only show up at funerals.

I talk about this often, and if you've spent time on my website, you’ve probably seen it before: the Grief Recovery Institute (GRI) and other researchers have identified over 40 different forms of grief.

The GRI defines grief in a few ways:

• Grief is the conflicting feelings caused by the end of or change in a familiar pattern of behaviour.

• Grief is reaching out for someone or something that is no longer there.

• Grief is also reaching out for someone or something that was never there.

Let’s sit with that for a moment.

If we use the first definition, we suddenly have a name for so many feelings we’ve all experienced - the complicated mix of yearning, sadness, and the desire that something could have been different, better, or more.

It's what we feel when we check our bank account after draining it for an emergency—knowing that, once, there was stability.

It’s what bubbles up when we pack away the last of our baby clothes and realize the baby days are behind us.

It’s waking up, starting to get ready for work out of habit, only to remember… you're retired now.

I spent years studying Buddhism. One of their Four Noble Truths is that "All Life is Suffering (Dukkha)." This is interpreted as daily dissatisfactions, daily losses, unease, or pains. Grief makes sense in a Buddhist context, because we are faced with losses and changes each and every day, like a thousand little endings that we didn't know affected us.

Reaching for What’s Gone—or What Never Was

The other two definitions help us locate the source of our grief more clearly.

Take retirement, for example. For many, work provided routine, purpose, and a sense of identity. When that ends, there can be a real ache—not just for the job itself, but for the structure, the meaning, and the social connections it brought—that’s grief.

You’re reaching for something that is no longer there. That isn't to say there aren't other sources of fulfilment and purpose, but the familiar and reliable source has now changed or ended, and it takes work to establish new sources.

Or let’s talk about finances.

Say you grew up in a financially stable household, but as an adult, you haven’t been able to provide the same for your kids. You may feel shame, anger, or deep sadness—and you can feel conflicted because part of you believes what you're doing is enough and that your kids are just fine (and often they are!) Why does it hurt so much?

Because you're reaching for something familiar that’s missing now—that’s grief.

And if you grew up in poverty and are still there, your grief might come from reaching for something that was never there to begin with. The desire for financial stability that was never within reach.

You might ache for a version of life you hoped to create but never could.

We All Know Grief—Even If We Don’t Call It That

Not everyone knows the grief of losing a loved one. But every person knows what it feels like to have a heart broken by change.

And yet, so many don’t realize these moments are grief. And if we can’t name it, it’s hard to talk about it—let alone heal from it.

When I trained as a Grief Recovery Specialist, I had a Eureka! moment. It was like someone had handed me the missing pieces to a puzzle I’d been trying to solve my whole life.

Why did I feel such sadness when my siblings bought homes or landed high-paying jobs?Because I was reaching for the financial security I once knew as a child—but couldn’t replicate for my own family.

That’s grief.

Why does a pit form in my stomach when I see newborns and toddlers, even though I adore my two kids? Because I always imagined having three. My heart still reaches for that third child.

Every Christmas I take out the stockings I sewed for my family. Every year, I set aside the one extra stocking, the one without a monogram. Because my heart is reaching.

That’s grief, too.

We’re Taught the Wrong Tools

Here’s the problem: we aren't taught what grief is. We aren’t taught how to live with it or heal from it. Instead, we’re taught to:

• Avoid it: “Just stay busy!”

• Ignore it: “No one would understand.”

• Replace it: “You’ll get another job.” “You can have another baby.”

But none of this helps.

So What Now?

If we've been using the wrong tools—and most of us have—what do we do?

I’ll talk more about this in my next blog post. (Spoiler alert: grief work is about addressing unresolved emotional communications and giving the heart witness, without trying to fix it.)

But if you’ve made it this far, thank you. Truly. You’ve clearly known grief—maybe not by name, but by heart.

If this resonates with you, I hope you’ll stay connected.

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Thank you for keeping an open mind. Thank you for being part of this conversation.

Yours,

Jes Knoop Founder