Easter can ask a lot of us, especially in grief.

Boxing Day carries a different kind of quiet. When the rush fades, the feelings we’ve tucked away begin to rise - the soft, accumulative ache of life grief. These in-between days stir the emotional sediment of the year: the changes, the small losses, the versions of ourselves we’ve outgrown. If you feel tender or unsettled now, nothing is wrong. You’re simply standing at a threshold.

In grief, we often face a quiet tension: choosing between the pretty lie that softens the moment or the ugly truth that holds real weight. Pretty lies feel protective, but they delay what is already true. And when the bubble bursts, it can add another layer of hurt. Sometimes the most compassionate thing we can offer is clear, honest truth - spoken with tenderness, and met with presence.