Grief Hangovers

(Written January 4, 2025)

My relationship with my grief is constantly changing. At first, it was always present at the forefront of my mind; I felt like I was swimming in a stormy, foggy sea, with waves of grief constantly crashing over me and driving me under. Now, it is still continuously present, and occasionally the grief waves come, but it’s like I am sitting on shore, and I can see them coming. It doesn’t mean they don’t impact me, but I feel like now I am able to somewhat prepare myself for their arrival.

It is the beginning of another new year: 2025. As time drags on, I still feel that disorienting feeling of leaving my daughter behind. Another new year is another reminder that she is not here. My memories of her grow more distant. In some ways, this is merciful, because the pain of those memories is less sharp. But in other ways, I fear leaving her behind.

I wanted to write today specifically about a phenomenon that I have dubbed the “grief hangover.” It usually happens after a significant anniversary date, such as Maria’s birthday, death day, or certain holidays (e.g. Mother’s Day). I experience grief to some extent on the anniversary date, though as time passes, those experiences of grief seem to be growing less raw. But then afterwards, even if the day itself isn’t as bad as I expected (and I have found consistently over time that it usually isn’t), I find myself surprised by an echo of melancholy that may last for a day, or for several days, or even for a week afterwards. This is the grief hangover.

I am experiencing this now, as I write this post. I made it through Christmas and New Year’s relatively unscathed this year, even as we reincarnated family-oriented Christmas traditions that used to be the norm for us, but we have not undertaken for various reasons since 2019. I experienced some anticipatory grief surrounding the holidays, but surprisingly, more about my grandparents than my daughter (my grandfather passed away on Christmas Eve several years ago, followed by my grandmother several months later). I even found some joy in the holidays this year, mostly prompted by my living child and my desire to make things special for him. But now that the holidays are over, I find myself in the midst of a somewhat surprising grief hangover.

We are approaching my daughter’s fourth birthday. I wonder if this grief hangover has less to do with the conclusion of the holidays, and more to do with the upcoming anniversary of my daughter’s birth. Maybe it is less a grief hangover and more a bout of anticipatory grief.

I find myself studying my grief with more curiosity these days. My new companion in this life. How curious its behavior can sometimes be. It makes its presence known in mysterious and different ways; sometimes loudly, sometimes with a mere whisper.

It is easy to reflect on my grief in a congenial way while in solitude, but I am still working on existing in the world. It’s so easy to look around me when I’m in a crowded place and think I’m the only one. But I know that is not true. I am still working on internalizing this belief. And I am still learning to walk through this life with my grief.