We often hear people say, “Grief will get easier with time.” It sounds nice, like something you’d put on a greeting card. But real grief? It doesn’t play by those rules.

Imagine a jar on a shelf. Inside it is a solid, black sphere – grief, heavy and permanent. The jar was small once, barely big enough to contain that dark weight. But then something happened. Life happened.

Scene 1: The Day of the Black Sphere

The first time grief arrived, it took up all the space. Maybe it was a phone call in the dead of night, an empty chair at the dinner table, or a final conversation that left too much unsaid. Whatever it was, it left this uninvited guest – that dark sphere – right in the center of everything. There was no moving around it. It was all you could see.

People came by, trying to cheer you up or offer comfort. But every well-meaning word just bounced off that grief, as solid and unmoved as stone. For a while, it felt like there was no room for anything else.

Scene 2: Life Finds Its Way Back In

Days turned into weeks, and slowly, without even realizing it, the jar started to grow. It wasn’t that the grief got smaller – it was as heavy as ever. But somehow, life began to edge its way back in, expanding the jar around it.

New people entered the picture. Some brought joy, others brought laughter, and a few brought new challenges. Responsibilities piled up. Small moments – the smell of coffee in the morning, a random joke that made you laugh – added layers to life’s canvas. They didn’t erase the grief, but they filled in the empty spaces around it.

Scene 3: Realizing the Grief is Still There

Years passed, and you began to understand something crucial: the grief never left. That black sphere was still right there in the middle, unchanged, a quiet reminder of what was lost. But now, it sat among a whole tapestry of memories, relationships, and experiences. It was like a mountain at the center of a growing city. The city kept expanding, and the mountain stayed where it was, unmoved but surrounded.

Every now and then, you’d walk up to that mountain, trace its edges with your fingers, and remember. You could feel the weight of it, as real as the first day. But the rest of life had grown big enough that you could put it down and keep moving.

Scene 4: Making Peace with the Black Sphere

One day, you look at that jar – that life you’ve built around grief – and it makes sense. The grief is still there, as it always was. But now, it has company. It no longer takes up all the space. It doesn’t need to.

You realize, maybe for the first time, that grief doesn’t have to go away for life to feel full again. You’ve just grown around it, becoming someone who can carry both joy and sorrow, who can keep building a life even with a mountain at the center.

Final Scene: The Shelf of Many Jars

Someday, you’ll look back and see a whole row of jars on that shelf. Each one with its own black sphere, its own mountain. Losses, heartbreaks, bittersweet memories. They’ll all be there, each one unchanged, each one a testament to the people, dreams, and moments that mattered.

And you? You’ll be standing there, having grown around every single one. Stronger, fuller, and somehow, at peace with the weight of it all.

Because in the end, life isn’t about shrinking grief. It’s about expanding around it, layer by layer, jar by jar.