Grief is a funny thing. Sometimes, it’s a quiet companion. A simple remembrance on a significant date, a soft ache that lets you reflect on the good memories without breaking apart.

Then, sometimes, it hits like a runaway freight train.

Today marks 29 years since my brother, my only sibling, passed away. He was 29 when he died. This year, I’ve reached the strange, heartbreaking milestone where he has now been gone as long as he was here. 29 years gone.

The wound feels fresh, raw, wide open… as if I’ve never grieved him before. It’s interfering with my work, my focus, my sense of balance. I find myself crying at the littlest things, emotions bubbling up when I least expect them, far too much snot to contain.

I’ve done all the things I know to do. I have eaten. I have hydrated. I have even taken a quiet moment to sit with the grief. And still, it threatens to overwhelm me.

Grief doesn’t follow a schedule. It doesn’t care how many years have passed or how “well” you think you’ve handled it before. Sometimes it just rises, uninvited, demanding to be felt all over again.

If you’ve ever had a wave like that, you’re not alone. Whether your loss was last month or decades ago, some days will simply hit harder.

When that happens, it can help to use what I call Grief Compression. It is a way of giving the feelings space without letting them consume your entire day:

1. Contain the time – Set aside 10–15 minutes just for your grief. Knowing it has a “container” can prevent it from spilling over endlessly.
2. Use a physical anchor – Place a hand on your chest and another on your stomach. Breathe naturally, and remind yourself: “This is grief. It’s part of my love for them.”
3. Name & release – Speak or write what you’re feeling, and with each one, drop your shoulders, unclench your jaw, or exhale. These are tiny physical releases to match the emotional ones.
4. Ground in the present – Afterward, focus on one thing in your immediate environment. It could be your pet’s fur, a warm mug, a sound around you. Something tangible to bring your mind and body back to now.

It’s not about making the pain disappear. It’s about letting it move through you in a way that honors your loss without drowning you in it.

If you’re feeling it today, whatever “it” is, know that someone else out there is, too. And it’s okay to take that time.