When Everything Changes in an Instant

There’s a kind of loss that doesn’t knock.

It doesn’t come slowly. It doesn’t announce itself with time to prepare or soften the blow. It just… happens. One moment you’re talking about dinner plans, vacation dates, what to do next weekend—and the next, the world you knew is simply gone.

Sudden loss is its own kind of devastation. It’s not just the heartbreak of losing someone you love—it’s the complete unraveling of the future you thought you were building together. The to-do list still exists, but it becomes absurd. Groceries, appointments, emails… all of it becomes irrelevant and impossible at once.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, especially in the wake of a dear colleague’s heartbreaking loss. Watching someone you care about get knocked off course by sudden grief cracks something open in you, too. It brings old grief back to the surface—grief that’s been living quietly in the corners of your own story.

For me, it’s the memory of losing my dad. He was 73—still full of plans, still moving with intention. One day he was here, and then he wasn’t. I can still feel the shock in my body, how it made no sense. How my mother’s life, their shared routines, the ease of companionship that had built up over decades—suddenly gone.

Grief at any age is disorienting. But when it comes out of nowhere, it’s like being dropped into a world that no longer speaks your language. You’re expected to carry on—to “move through it.” But what does that even mean when the entire map has changed?

There are stages of grief, sure. But they’re not linear, and they don’t come with a schedule. Shock doesn’t fade on command. Sadness doesn’t follow rules. Anger, disbelief, gratitude, numbness—they all live side by side. They show up uninvited, often in the middle of something completely mundane, and they demand to be felt.

What I’ve learned—what I’m still learning—is that grief isn’t something to solve. It’s something to be with. It’s a kind of love that no longer has a place to land, and so it wanders. And if we let it, it changes us. It tenderizes us. It reminds us how fragile and beautiful life is.

So if you are in the midst of sudden loss—whether fresh or long past but still pulsing—you’re not alone. The world may have shifted under your feet, but you’re still here. And that matters.

And if you’re someone holding space for someone else’s grief, just remember: presence matters more than perfection. Just showing up counts. Words don’t have to be profound. They just have to be real.

We all belong to each other in these moments. Loss breaks us open—but it also opens the door to connection, compassion, and maybe even a kind of peace we didn’t expect.