OK Sandra... My Mother Died and Everybody Thinks I Should Be Fine By Now.

Fourteen months is nothing. I want you to hear that from someone who isn't waiting for you to be done.

Grief doesn't shrink on a schedule. What usually happens is that life grows around it, and that takes years, not seasons. The world's timeline for mourning is built around the comfort of the people watching, not the person carrying it.

The pretending, though — I'd look at that. Performing fine is its own second job, and it tends to isolate you exactly when you need people. You don't owe everyone your grief, but pick two humans who get the true answer. Two is enough.

Grief also changes friendships, and that surprises people. Some friends will disappear because they don't know what to say. Some will surprise you. Try not to make permanent decisions about anyone during this stretch.

One practical thing: give the coffee aisle a plan. Buy her brand on purpose, or take a different aisle on purpose. Ambush is the worst version. And if the weight becomes something you can't put down — if you're not sleeping, not eating, not wanting to be here — that is the moment for a grief counselor, not a stronger grip.