Summer and Grief: When the Season of Sunshine Feels Heavy

Summer and Grief: When the Season of Sunshine Feels Heavy

Over the last few weeks, I've been thinking about what to write for my next blog. I knew I wanted it to be about grief because I've committed to alternating my blogs between grief and aging. (Although, who knows—I may occasionally wander into a different topic if inspiration strikes!)

Originally, I thought this blog would focus on the different types of grief. Then, during a walk and after reflecting on a conversation I had with a client, my thoughts shifted. It reminded me of just how difficult summertime can be for someone who is grieving.

I'm certainly not suggesting that any season is easy after the loss of someone important. Grief has a way of showing up regardless of the calendar. Yet summer seems to bring its own unique challenges. At the same time, it can also offer small moments of comfort and even healing if we're open to noticing them.

Most of us think of summer as a season filled with sunshine, warm days at the lake, backyard barbecues, camping trips, fishing, gardening, family vacations, and evenings spent around a fire with friends. This year, with all the rain we've had, the grass is especially green, the flowers seem brighter than ever, and everything feels alive.

For many people, these are joyful reminders of life.

For someone who is grieving, however, they can become painful reminders of what—or more importantly, who—is missing.

Instead of simply enjoying the warmth of the sun, you may remember the beach vacation you always took together. A fishing trip may bring back memories of "the big one" that was caught years ago. Sitting on the deck with your morning coffee may remind you of quiet conversations that once filled those peaceful moments.

Perhaps it's working in the garden together, planning the next landscaping project, or packing for the annual family holiday that now feels impossible to imagine.

The memories themselves are beautiful.

It's the absence that hurts.

Summer can also feel incredibly isolating. It often seems as though everyone else is outside laughing, travelling, celebrating, and making memories while you wonder how you're supposed to participate in a season that no longer feels the same. It's easy to feel left behind.

Yet something I've observed over the years—both personally and professionally—is that the very things that trigger our grief can sometimes become the very things that gently help us carry it.

Not every day.

Not every memory.

But sometimes.

Let the Sunshine In

I've had many clients tell me that simply seeing the sun shine through the window was enough to help them make it through a difficult day. Others have shared that sitting quietly in the warmth of the sunshine, even for five or ten minutes, brought a small sense of peace.

Sometimes watching a sunset allows us to remember someone we love with gratitude rather than only pain.

One of the things I often encourage is not to push memories away. We naturally want to protect ourselves from pain, but memories are also one of the ways our loved ones continue to remain part of our lives.

Allow the memory to come.

Allow the tears if they come with it.

Be thankful that grief has not stolen the love that created those memories in the first place.

Over time, many people discover that while the sadness doesn't disappear, the memories become easier to hold close.

Finding Comfort in Nature

Gardening can be surprisingly healing.

Whether it's creating a memory garden, planting your loved one's favourite flowers, growing vegetables they always enjoyed, or simply placing a beautiful planter on your deck, these small acts can become meaningful ways to honour someone.

There is also something wonderfully grounding about getting your hands into the soil.

Nature has a remarkable way of reminding us that life continues through seasons of growth, change, rest, and renewal. While grief doesn't follow the seasons as neatly as nature does, spending time outdoors often helps quiet our minds, even if only for a little while.

Can You Take a Vacation from Grief?

Vacations can be especially complicated after a loss.

Travel often reminds us of places we've been together or trips we had hoped to take. Being somewhere new can also make the absence of our loved one feel even more noticeable.

You've probably heard the saying, "You never get a vacation from grief."

In many ways, that's true.

Grief travels with us wherever we go.

Yet I've also heard many people describe feeling a subtle sense of relief while they were away. A different environment, a slower pace, or simply being around people who don't know your story can sometimes lighten the emotional weight for a short while.

It's not about forgetting.

It's not about leaving your grief behind.

It's simply about giving your mind and body a brief opportunity to rest.

One client recently described returning from a holiday after an especially significant loss. They said, "It felt good just to get a little break."

I thought that was such an honest description.

The grief was still there when they returned home, but for a few days, the burden felt just a little lighter.

Sometimes that's enough.

Give Yourself Permission to Set Boundaries

One of the most important things you can do during the summer is to be gentle with yourself.

If a family barbecue feels overwhelming, it's perfectly okay to attend for only an hour.

If you're invited camping and you're simply not ready, it's okay to decline.

If the fireworks, festivals, or crowded beaches feel like too much, give yourself permission to say no.

Boundaries aren't about avoiding life forever.

They're about respecting where you are today.

You may also find yourself creating new traditions while keeping some of the old ones. Perhaps you'll visit a different lake, start a new annual walk, plant flowers each spring, or spend one evening watching the sunset in quiet remembrance.

And if a new tradition doesn't feel right, that's okay too.

You can always return to the familiar ones.

There are no rules.

Grief Lives Beside Love

It's interesting how memories arrive without warning.

Just recently, I found myself remembering being a young child at our family cottage while my mother picked blueberries. What stood out most in that memory wasn't the picking—it was the blueberry pie she baked afterward.

My mom has been gone for more than thirty years.

Yet this summer I suddenly felt compelled to bake that blueberry pie.

Was it as good as hers?

Not even close.

But that wasn't really the point.

For a little while, she felt close again.

Grief has a way of reminding us that love continues long after someone is gone. Sometimes it arrives in the warmth of the sunshine. Sometimes in the smell of fresh flowers. Sometimes in a favourite fishing spot or an old family recipe.

And sometimes, if we're willing, we can let those moments become gifts instead of only reminders of loss.

If you are finding this summer especially difficult, please know that you're not alone. Grief doesn't follow a timeline, and there is no "right" way to navigate the season. Be patient with yourself. Accept the moments of sadness, welcome the moments of peace when they come, and remember that it's okay to ask for support.

Healing doesn't mean leaving your loved one behind.

It means learning how to carry both love and loss together, one season at a time.