Grief Isn’t How It Looks on TV: What Really Happens After the Funeral

You’ve seen the movies — a loved one dies, and suddenly everyone comes running. Neighbors bring casseroles. Friends drop everything to sit beside you, tissues in hand. Family gathers daily, filling your home with warmth and care.

It’s a comforting scene. But here’s the truth… for most of us, grief doesn’t look anything like that.

I’ve heard from women who’ve lost mothers, children, siblings — and our stories sound the same. There’s a deafening silence. A lonely ache. A realization that the people we thought would show up... didn’t.

We’re not saying others are responsible for our healing. But for God’s sake — be a good human. Show up. Call. Check in. Sometimes that’s all it takes.

Here’s what I thought grief support would look like… and what really happened:

I thought my mom’s former coworkers would make every effort to attend her funeral.
What really happened: I got a few “sending love” messages and a handful of “schedule conflicts.”

I thought her church family would fill the funeral home with flowers — a visual symphony of love and remembrance.
What really happened: The only flowers there were the ones I bought myself. The rest? Silent. Empty spaces where love should’ve bloomed.

I thought the people who attended would wrap me in hugs and check on me afterward.
What really happened: They avoided eye contact. Some even crossed the room to sidestep my pain — at the funeral.

I thought my phone would stay lit up with texts, check-ins, meals, or visits.
What really happened: After the first week, my phone went quiet. My grief became an afterthought.

And that silence? It hurts more than most people can imagine.
Because when the dust settles, and everyone else moves on — we don’t.

Many of us grieve in isolation, not because we want to, but because the world doesn’t know how to hold space for grief that lingers.

So yes, this is me — speaking from lived experience, not from a textbook. I’m not a therapist or a grief counselor. I’ve got something better — I’ve lived it. I know the sting, the quiet, and the strength it takes to rise again when no one’s standing beside you.

And this conversation isn’t over.
My next blog will be about something every woman who’s lost her mother eventually learns — how to mother herself….because the grief support calvary isn’t coming for you.

Because when the calls stop coming and the world grows quiet, the work of soft healing begins within.

✨ Written from the heart, by someone who’s lived it. Read more at www.honoringmissbee.org.