Grieving a Parent

Still Someone’s Child: Grieving the Loss of a Parent at Any Age

Losing a parent is one of the most profound experiences we can face—and it doesn’t matter how old you are when it happens. Whether you were a child, a young adult, or well into midlife, the loss of a mother or father can feel like the ground shifting beneath you. It changes something in your emotional DNA. Even if the relationship was complicated. Even if you thought you were ready. Even if it happened years ago.

And yet, in our culture, there’s often an unspoken assumption that grief has an expiration date—or that it should look a certain way depending on your age. But grief doesn’t work like that. It’s not neat. It doesn’t follow rules. And it never stops being real.

If you’re grieving a parent—whether recently or from decades past—this post is for you.

Grief Evolves With Us

The way we grieve a parent is deeply shaped by how old we were when they died, and who they were to us at that point in our lives. Our grief grows and changes as we grow and change.

As a child

The loss of a parent in childhood is a foundational wound. It often leaves a lasting imprint that shapes identity, attachment, and emotional development. Children may not have the language or tools to process the loss fully, and the grief can resurface in new ways at different life stages.

As a teenager

Adolescents are already navigating identity and independence—so the death of a parent can add layers of confusion, anger, and emotional volatility. It can feel unfair, overwhelming, and deeply isolating.

In your 20s

For many, the twenties are a time of figuring out who you are, where you belong, and building your life. Losing a parent in this chapter can feel like losing your anchor too soon, before you've had a chance to fully grow roots.

In your 30s

In your thirties, you may be building a career, starting a family, or returning to your parents for emotional support in a new adult-to-adult dynamic. Their death can feel like an interruption in a maturing relationship—one that was just starting to deepen in a different way.

In your 40s and beyond

Even in midlife, losing a parent can feel seismic. It often brings an acute awareness of your own aging, your own mortality. And if both parents have passed, it can feel like the “top layer” of your family is gone—you’ve become the next generation in line.

Grieving as an Adult Child

There’s a quiet heartbreak in grieving your parent as an adult. You’re expected to manage it. To be composed. To return to work. To carry on.

But inside, you might feel unmoored. Raw. You might be facing regrets—things unsaid, visits missed, forgiveness never reached. Or maybe the loss was sudden, and you’re still catching your breath. Maybe you watched them decline slowly and now carry the weight of witnessing.

You might still pick up the phone to call them.
You might cry unexpectedly in the grocery store.
You might be okay for weeks—until you’re not.

All of that is normal. All of that is grief.

When the Loss Isn’t Recent

Sometimes, grief comes back like a wave, even years or decades after a parent has died. Anniversaries, major life events, smells, songs, or seeing a friend with their mom or dad—it can all stir something in the heart.

If your parent died a long time ago, you may wonder why the grief still lives in you. But that grief is part of your love. It's a sign of what they meant to you, or perhaps what you longed for from them and never quite got. Grief doesn’t have a deadline. You’re allowed to still miss them.

What If the Relationship Was Complicated?

Not every parent-child relationship is easy or loving. Sometimes the grief is layered with pain, relief, guilt, or unresolved wounds. You might mourn the parent they were—or the one they never were. This grief is no less valid. In fact, it's often heavier, because you're grieving both a person and a lost possibility.

Give yourself permission to feel all of it, without judgment.

Grieving the Second Parent

When your second parent dies—whether they were your last surviving parent or the one who raised you—it can feel like becoming an emotional orphan, even as an adult. There's often a deep shift in identity. A quiet loneliness. A sense that a chapter has closed for good.

The world may look the same, but something fundamental has changed. It’s okay to name that.

How Mindfulness Can Support You in Grief

Mindfulness won’t make the grief go away, but it can soften your experience. It invites you to be with what’s real, to tend to your emotions like you would a garden—gently, patiently, without force.

Here are a few ways to use mindfulness in your grieving process:

1. Be with what is

Notice the feelings when they arise. Sadness, anger, gratitude, emptiness—each has its own story. Let them move through you instead of around you.

2. Use your breath as an anchor

When your thoughts spiral or your heart feels heavy, come back to your breath. Breathe in and say to yourself, “This is hard.” Breathe out and say, “And I’m still here.”

3. Create moments of connection

Light a candle. Look at a photo. Say their name out loud. Write them a letter. Your relationship doesn’t end—it simply changes form.

4. Let yourself be human

You may not cry every day. Or you may cry at the smallest things. You may want solitude or crave closeness. Grief doesn’t follow a script. Be kind to yourself.

You Don’t Have to Grieve Alone

Whether your parent died last month or twenty years ago, grief can still live in your bones. And no matter how “together” you look on the outside, you still deserve care and support.

This post is just scratching the surface of what it means to grieve a parent. The journey is personal, layered, and deeply human—and you don’t have to walk it alone.

🌱 If you’re seeking 1-on-1 support to help you process your grief, I offer compassionate, personalized sessions. You can visit [here] to book time with me.

🌕 Looking for a supportive community space? Join the next Grief Circle—a parent-loss support group where you can share, witness, and feel less alone. Learn more or register [here].

🎥 Prefer to move at your own pace? My self-guided, transformational course “Navigating Grief” was created to support you with tools, reflection, and presence—on your timeline, in your own space. Explore it [here].

You may be an adult now—but part of you will always be someone’s child. And that part of you deserves tenderness, remembrance, and room to heal.

With warmth and care,
Yasemin Isler

Grief Doesn’t Follow Stages: A Mindful, Compassionate Path After the Loss of a Spouse or Partner

Grief Doesn’t Follow Stages: A Mindful, Compassionate Path After the Loss of a Spouse or Partner

Whether you’ve lost a partner after a few years together or a lifetime, the grief that follows is immense. It’s not just the absence of the person—it’s the absence of shared routines, private jokes, quiet moments, future plans. It’s the loss of your witness, your rhythm, your anchor.

For those who’ve walked this road, and for those who are just beginning, let me say something clearly: there are no neat “stages” of grief. That’s one of the most pervasive myths I’ve had to gently unteach again and again. Grief isn’t a checklist. It doesn’t unfold in a tidy, linear progression. It’s not about reaching a final step where you “move on.”

Instead, grief moves like water—shifting, spiraling, ebbing and surging. It’s as individual as your relationship was. And it doesn’t expire at the one-year mark.

There Are No Stages—There Is Only What Is

The idea of five stages—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance—was originally developed to describe the experience of people facing their own terminal illness, not those grieving a loss. But over time, it became a kind of cultural template for how we expect grief to unfold.

In my years supporting those grieving a spouse or partner, and through my own experience of loss, I’ve seen how unhelpful and even harmful that framework can be. People often come to me saying, “I’m stuck in the anger stage,” or “I should be at acceptance by now.”

There is no “should” in grief. Grief is not a problem to be solved. It’s a process to be lived—with care, with compassion, and with presence.

How Grief Changes Over Time

The first year can be disorienting. You may feel like you’re living in a fog, simply putting one foot in front of the other. Your nervous system is in survival mode. The world around you keeps going, but yours has paused in some invisible way.

Then comes the second year—and for many, this is where the deeper emotional terrain begins to surface. The support that was there early on may have faded. The finality starts to settle in. You may not feel “better,” even though the world often expects you to.

None of this means you’re doing it wrong. Grief isn’t just about what’s lost—it’s about learning to live in a changed landscape. And that landscape keeps shifting.

Over the years, grief can become less sharp, but more textured. You learn how to carry it. You build new muscle. You begin to hold both love and loss in the same breath.

Bringing Compassion and Presence to Daily Life

What I’ve seen again and again is that we don’t need to “fix” our grief. We need to meet it. To learn how to stay with it in a way that’s kind and grounded. These are some of the approaches that I’ve seen bring the most gentle steadiness to those walking through loss:

1. Presence, Not Perfection

Grief isn’t something you get better at—it’s something you live alongside. Some days you may feel functional, even joyful. Other days, brushing your teeth feels like an accomplishment. Both are real. Both are valid. Ask yourself each day: What’s here right now? How can I be with it, kindly?

2. Make Room for the Full Range of Emotions

There’s no wrong emotion in grief. Sadness, anger, guilt, relief, even moments of laughter—they’re all part of the experience. Try not to judge what arises. Simply naming what you feel—“I feel overwhelmed,” or “I miss them so much it aches”—can bring some gentle grounding.

3. Create Simple Daily Anchors

When your world feels unstable, small, intentional routines can help. Light a candle. Sit quietly with your tea. Step outside and feel the air on your skin. These aren’t solutions. They’re steadiness. They remind you that even in grief, life still moves, breath still comes.

4. Let Your Grief Be Seen

There’s a healing that happens in being witnessed. Not advised, not pitied—just truly seen. Find spaces, whether with a trusted person or a grief guide, where your story can live without needing to be edited. Grief is heavy; it’s lighter when carried together.

5. Choose How You Remember

Grief isn’t just about letting go. It’s also about holding on—with intention. Speak their name. Keep something of theirs nearby. Cook their favorite dish on their birthday. These acts of remembrance are not morbid—they’re meaningful. They keep love present.

6. Welcome Joy Without Guilt

When joy returns—because it will—don’t push it away. Joy doesn’t erase grief. It grows beside it. Smiling, laughing, feeling hopeful again isn’t a betrayal. It’s a sign of your capacity to keep living with an open heart.

You Don’t Have to Walk This Path Alone

Whether you’re in the rawness of early grief or navigating its quieter, long-term presence years later, your experience matters. It’s worth honoring. It deserves space and care.

If you're ready for personalized support, I offer 1-on-1 private sessions designed to meet you exactly where you are—no fixing, no agenda, just space to breathe, feel, and gently move through what’s arising.

You can schedule private a session (over Zoom) here →.

And if you’d prefer to walk this path on your own time and in your own way, my self-paced master class on navigating grief offers guided teachings, mindfulness practices, and reflections to support your heart over time.

You can learn more about Navigating Grief Self-Paced Course and enroll here →.

Grief changes you. It doesn’t mean you’re broken. It means you’ve loved deeply. And with time, care, and presence, you can learn to live forward—with your grief beside you, not against you.

You are not alone.

With steadiness and compassion,
Yasemin Isler

When the Heart Breaks Open: Grieving the Loss of a Partner

When the Heart Breaks Open: Grieving the Loss of a Partner with Mindfulness and Compassion

There’s a unique ache in losing a partner—the one you shared your days with, your bed with, your inside jokes, your future plans, your quiet moments. The one who knew your rhythms and quirks, who showed up beside you in the mundane and the magical. When they’re gone, something in your world shifts entirely. It’s not just that they’re not here anymore—it’s that the we becomes me, and even your breath feels different.

Losing a partner can feel like being set adrift in your own life. And while nothing can make that pain go away, mindfulness—gentle, patient awareness—can offer small pockets of steadiness in the storm.

The Depth of This Grief

Grieving a partner isn’t linear. It’s not neat. It comes in waves, sometimes crashing, sometimes barely a ripple, but always present beneath the surface. This grief touches everything: routines, anniversaries, shared meals, the silence on the other side of the bed.

You might feel a deep longing. You might feel numb. You might swing between moments of clarity and moments you don’t know how to keep going. You might even feel angry at them for leaving, or guilty for still being here. It’s all real. It’s all allowed.

This grief isn’t just about missing a person. It’s about missing the life you had together, the way their presence shaped your sense of home, your identity, and your future.

The Invitation of Mindfulness in Grief

Mindfulness doesn’t fix grief—but it can hold it with tenderness.

To be mindful in grief is to gently turn toward your pain instead of running from it. It’s allowing yourself to feel, to soften into the present moment, even when it aches. It’s choosing presence over pressure, breath over busyness.

Here’s what that might look like:

1. Breathing Through the Waves

When the ache rises suddenly—out of nowhere, or at exactly the moment you expected—pause. Breathe. Place your hand on your heart or belly. Inhale slowly, exhale gently. Let yourself be here. Even for one breath. One breath is a beginning.

2. Letting Grief Take Up Space

You don’t have to be strong every minute. You don’t have to “move on” or get over it. Grief needs space, not solutions. Let the tears come. Let the silence be heavy. Let your heart speak in its own time.

3. Savoring the Memories—Mindfully

Not all memories bring comfort at first. But over time, with mindful attention, they can become small candles in the dark. Try sitting with a photo, a song, or a scent that reminds you of your partner. Notice the sensations. Let the feelings rise and fall without judgment.

4. Speaking to Them

Talk to them. In your heart, out loud, on paper. Tell them what hurts. Tell them what you miss. Tell them what you’re grateful for. This conversation doesn’t have to end just because they’re gone.

Compassion for Yourself

Grief is not just emotional—it’s physical, mental, spiritual. Some days you may function. Some days you may fall apart. Some days you may laugh and then feel guilty for it. This is all part of the terrain.

Be kind to yourself.
Let yourself rest.
Let yourself say no.
Let yourself feel broken.
Let yourself be loved, even in pieces.

And when the world feels like it’s moving on without you, remember: you’re not behind. You’re healing. In your own time, in your own way.

You Are Still in Relationship

Though their body is no longer here, your relationship with your partner continues. It shifts—but it doesn’t disappear. You carry their stories, their voice, their lessons, their love. You carry what you built together.

Some people find comfort in creating rituals to maintain that connection:

• Lighting a candle on special days

• Wearing something that belonged to them

• Visiting a shared favorite place

• Speaking their name

• Living a value they cherished

In these ways, they are still with you—not in the way you want, but in a way that still matters.

You Don’t Have to Do This Alone

Loss can be isolating, especially when others don’t know what to say or when the world seems to expect you to “bounce back.” But you don’t have to carry it all alone.

Whether you need someone to walk beside you or simply witness your pain without fixing it, support is available.

💬 If your heart is aching and you're looking for a space to be held in your grief, I invite you to book a time with me [here].

🎥 Prefer to explore quietly on your own? My self-paced video training on grief and mindfulness might be the gentle companion you need right now.

You can find an introduction into Gentle Grief [here],

and a deep transformative Navigating Grief and Loss [here].

However you choose to walk this path, know this:
You are not broken.
You are not alone.
And your grief is a reflection of deep, beautiful love.

With tenderness,
Yasemin Isler

Compassion and The Grieving-Bereaved Person's Rights