Two Stages of Grief: Who You Were Before… and Who You Become After

They don’t tell you this part about grief.

Yes, you’ll feel heartbreak. Yes, you’ll cry. Yes, you’ll miss them every single day.

But what no one really talks about is the fact that grief doesn’t just take the person you love — it takes pieces of you, too.

And there comes a moment, whether it’s weeks, months, or years later, when you realize:

There are two stages of grief.

Who you were before.

 

Just 5 days before Quintin passed away...

And who you became after.

Year One: The Crushing Fog of Denial

When I look back at the first year after losing my husband, I barely recognize myself.

I was moving through life in a fog — functioning, but not really living.

The denial was so heavy it almost felt protective.

Like my heart couldn’t possibly take in the reality all at once, so my mind kept me in survival mode.

You wake up and for half a second, you forget.

Then the wave hits again.

And again.

And again.

People tell you, “You’re so strong,” but they don’t see the nights you crumble on the bathroom floor. They don’t hear the prayers you whisper through tears: Lord, please just let this be a nightmare.

Year one is filled with “firsts” you never wanted — the first birthday without them, the first holiday without their laugh, the first time you realize their side of the bed has gone cold.

And yet, in all of that, you’re still almost… numb.

Like your soul knows it has to keep some distance from the pain or you might not make it through.

Year Two: The Ache That Cuts Deeper

If year one was denial, year two is when the fog lifts — and the raw ache sets in.

This year is harder in ways I never imagined.

The reality of my loss feels heavier, not lighter.

The distractions and chaos of “just getting through” are gone, and I’m left face-to-face with the emptiness.

People stop checking in.

The texts that used to come every week now barely come at all.

The “call me anytime” invitations fade.

It’s not that people are bad or unloving — it’s just that life moves on for them.

But for you? Life has changed forever.

I’ve learned that grief can be deeply isolating.

It’s easier to put up walls than to say out loud, “I wish you were still here for me. I thought you’d stick around.”

Fighting the Version of Me I Don’t Want to Become

Here’s my truth:

I miss who I was before.

Before grief made me cautious.

Before I started overthinking every conversation.

Before I had to guard my heart like it was made of fragile glass.

They say grief can morph into darker emotions — anger, anxiety, bitterness.

And I can feel them creeping in sometimes.

I hate that.

I don’t want to be this version of me.

Some days I want to scream.

Some days I feel like I’m holding everything in because the only person who fully understood me… is no longer here.

The Loneliness No One Talks About

Year one, you’re surrounded by people.

Year two, you can hear your own footsteps in the silence.

No one talks about how lonely it feels when the world keeps spinning but you’re stuck in a place you never wanted to be.

No one tells you how exhausting it is to keep pretending you’re okay when you’re anything but.

I’ve learned that loneliness doesn’t always mean you’re physically alone.

Sometimes it means you’re in a crowded room but no one can truly see the storm inside your soul.

What I Wish I Could Tell the Me From Before

If I could go back and talk to the me before grief, I’d say:

• Love deeper. Hug longer.
• Say the things that feel awkward to say, because you might not get another chance.
• Don’t sweat the small stuff — in the end, none of it matters.

I’d tell her to cherish the normal days, the ones she thought were boring.

Because one day she’d give anything to have them back.

Finding Glimmers in the Dark

Even in the heaviness, I’ve found little moments that remind me I’m still here.

The smell of fresh coffee in the morning.

A song on the radio that makes me smile through tears.

A sunset that paints the sky in colors so beautiful, I can’t help but think, he would have loved this.

Those glimmers don’t erase the grief.

But they remind me there’s still life to be lived.

If You’re Here Too…

If you’ve lost someone you love and you’re reading this thinking, Yes. This is exactly where I am, please hear me:

You are not alone.

Your feelings are valid.

You don’t have to “be strong” every day.

It’s okay to miss who you were before.

It’s okay to be tired of fighting.

It’s okay to admit that this hurts more than you thought possible.

And it’s okay to hold onto hope — even if right now it feels like a whisper.

Faith in the Middle of the Mess

I wish I could say my faith has made grief easy.

It hasn’t.

But it has been the anchor when the waves hit.

When I’m tempted to believe I’m completely alone, I remember:

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” – Psalm 34:18

That verse doesn’t promise an easy road, but it promises His nearness.

And some days, that’s the only thing that keeps me putting one foot in front of the other. That along with the blessing of my children.

Let’s Talk About It

One of the hardest parts of grief is feeling like you have to carry it silently.

But I believe there’s healing in sharing our stories — even the messy, unfiltered parts.

So I want to open up my little corner of the internet — right here on this blog — as a safe space for those of us walking through loss.

I’d love for you to share in the comments:

• What stage of grief are you in?
• What has surprised you most about the journey?
• What’s one thing you wish people understood about what you’re going through?

Whether you’ve been in this season for weeks or decades, your story matters.

Your voice matters.

And you never know who might read your words and feel a little less alone.

Final Thoughts

Grief will change you.

There’s no way around that.

But maybe — just maybe — we can walk through it together and remind each other that even in the pain, there can still be connection.

If you’re here today missing who you were before, please know:

I see you.

I’m with you.

And I believe there’s still purpose for your life, even in this new version of you. If you are looking for resources, I would love to share NEVER ALONE it is a community of amazing women and moms who have also weathered the storm of widowhood. I will continue to try to update with resources as I find them helpful in my own journey. So please bookmark my CrazyBusyMama blog as it is more than just recipes, it is my prayer that it offers hope in the midst of your storm.

🖤 Share your thoughts below. I read every comment. Let’s lift each other up in this space. –

Much Love – Lori

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Rooted in HIM is a grief journal available to anyone who may be walking through a season of grief. Scriptures and prompts to help you on your grief journey. AVAILABLE HERE FOR ONLY $15!