Grief in summer – when the sky is too far

When the summer is too heavy

It was one of those summer days that felt like life itself had been immersed in the harsh light.
People stroll through the streets, the air smells like sunscreen and barbecue charcoal, music plays somewhere – not too loud, but just loud enough to remind you that you don’t belong anymore.

You walk through this world like a shop window.
Inside everything colorful.
Outside your reflection – pale, tired, mute.

It pulls your stomach together.
Not because you do not give others their joy.
But because you can no longer pretend to share it.

„Ich habe gelächelt, weil ich niemandem den Tag verderben wollte. Abends war ich so erschöpft, dass ich nicht mal mehr weinen konnte.“

Client, 46, after the death of her life partner

Summer is the great promise for many

Ease. Holidays. Breathe again.
For people in grief, it often becomes a test.
Because everything is calling: "Go ahead!" Be happy! Just relax!
And you're just thinking, How do I relax when nothing is the same? If someone is missing – so much so that sometimes I can hardly breathe?

You watch families head out to the lake, couples spread their picnic blankets.
And in your head is another movie:
A missed call.
One last look.
A summer that is no longer coming.

And you sit there, with your heart full of memories that can’t go anywhere.

Sometimes I was stunned.
I was in the beer garden, ordering, eating, smiling.
But inside, I was just busy not falling apart.

Client, 38, after a family suicide

They say grief comes in waves.
In the summer it is sometimes whole floods.

Because the outside screams: "Here is life!"
And your inside whispers: "But mine doesn’t feel alive right now."

Maybe you feel like you have to constantly pull yourself together.
That you should be strong, even though you would rather just disappear.
Not forever, but for a moment.
A place without "How was your holiday?" or "Are you better?"

The Flood of Memories

When sunlight shows old pictures

Summer brings light – and with the light come the shadows.
Shadow of what once was.
Which will never be again.

Shadows in your favorite cafe.
Shadows on the balcony you used to sit on.
Shadow in the sand of your memories.

Nights that won’t let you sleep

And then there are the nights.
Those warm, too warm nights when the body sweats, even though the heart curls freezingly.
Too hot to sleep.
Too cold to rest.

Your brain uses the darkness for a perfidious "best of" of all memories you will never experience again.
An old laugh.
A holiday together.
The smell in the neck.

You turn back and forth, breathe flat, seek rest in pillows that don’t answer.
And the morning after is like a gorge. You don't wake up, you fall in.

The normal everyday madness

And then there are those moments that are so absurd that you yourself do not know whether to laugh or howl.
Not a big deal actually.
You just want to make yourself a tea.
But you forgot to turn on the kettle.

And suddenly you're standing there --
completely overwhelmed –
Your Concerns and Our Methods, Break into tearsAs if someone had pulled your heart out of your body.

You curse inside.
Look briefly at the kettle.
Give him a free flight over the balcony.
Don't do it, of course.

Because you know:
You're not crazy.
You're just Exhausted from losing.

And your favorite tea?
That would be exactly what you need.
Something warm.
Something that remains.

You don’t have to be strong, you can be real

Finding words and breathing

Sometimes it is enough for someone to hold the room.
If no one tells you to let go.
If only you can be – with everything that is.
With your tears, your anger, your fatigue.
And your quiet wish that it may become easier again.