“Grief isn’t about moving on; it’s about learning how to carry what remains.”

August is a fast month. The city comes alive, the sun stays out late, the music runs loud. It's summer, and everything moves. That pace makes it easy to outrun your feelings — to let the noise carry you past whatever you don't want to sit with.

But grief doesn't care about the season. It waits in the quiet, in the space between the sun going down and the night beginning. And when it surfaces, the contrast is disorienting. One moment you're moving at summer speed. The next, you're standing still in something much heavier, wondering how the two can exist in the same day.

I know that feeling well.

Growing up, grief was something I just got through. I showed up the next day. I took care of what needed to be taken care of. I checked on my family, supported the people around me, made sure everyone else was okay.

There was so much strength in being present for others. But there was little space to ask, "What about me? What do I need?"

When everyone around you is hurting, your instinct is to hold everyone else up before letting yourself be held.

In a lot of families, mine included, strength is everything, especially during loss. You learn to be the steady one. You learn to keep going, even when something inside you feels heavy.

And sometimes, without even realizing it, your own grief gets pushed to the side.

Not because it doesn't matter. But because somewhere along the way, you learned that being strong meant putting your own needs last.

Maybe you've felt guilty for grieving differently than everyone else. Maybe you've felt like the one who has to hold it all together. Maybe you've wondered if you're even allowed to need support when it seems like everyone else needs you more.

Here's the thing: there's a difference between being strong for the people you love and carrying everything by yourself.

Taking care of yourself doesn't take away from the people around you. If anything, caring for your own grief is what lets you keep showing up for them, with more presence, not less.

This is where therapy can support you. It can show you that caring for those around you does not mean you have to carry the entire weight alone. It provides a safe space where you are permitted to understand your feelings and move forward at your own pace.

So the next time August moves fast around you;  the sun staying out, the music running loud and grief finds you anyway in one of those quiet, still moments, know that you don't have to carry it alone. That's what grief therapy and loss counselling can offer: not a rush back to the noise, but a space to slow down with what you're feeling, for as long as you need.

– Menna Wahba