🖤 Grief Doesn’t Like Grammar

Grief doesn’t care about punctuation.

It doesn’t pause for commas or wait for the right verb tense. It rushes in like a flood, or drips slowly like a leaky faucet. It interrupts. It forgets. It repeats itself. And when we try to write through it, we often find ourselves tangled in fragments, run-ons, and silence.

That’s okay.

In fact, that’s sacred.

✍️ The Messy Truth of Grief Writing

When you’re grieving, your brain doesn’t work the way it used to. Time bends. Memory blurs. Words hide. You sit down to write and suddenly you’re staring at a blinking cursor, unsure if you’re allowed to say what you feel.

You are.

You don’t need to be eloquent. You don’t need to be polished. You just need to be honest.

Write like you’re whispering to someone in the dark. Write like you’re shouting into the wind. Write like you’re scribbling on the back of a receipt because the ache won’t wait.

🧠 Grammar Is a Tool, Not a Rule

There’s a reason grief writing often breaks the rules of grammar—it’s trying to break through something deeper. A sentence that runs on for five lines might be the only way to capture the chaos inside. A single word—“why”—might be the only thing you can manage.

Fragments reflect the fractured nature of loss. Run-ons mirror the overwhelm. Silence speaks volumes.

Let it be what it is.

💬 Permission to Write Imperfectly

Here’s your permission slip:

• You can write without capital letters.

• You can forget how to spell.

• You can cry between sentences.

• You can leave things unfinished.

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Grief doesn’t follow a structure. Your writing doesn’t have to either.

🕯️ Writing as Witness

When you write in grief, you’re not just telling a story—you’re witnessing a transformation. You’re honoring the love, the loss, the longing. You’re showing up for yourself in the most vulnerable way.

And that’s beautiful.

Even if it’s messy. Even if it’s broken. Even if it’s silent.