#2 Summer of Grief — The Weight of a Cooler Day

Grief, like the weather, can shift without warning — from oppressive heat to a sudden chill, from sunlight to rain and hail. We don’t only grieve the people we’ve lost; we grieve places, moments, entire seasons of our lives. Things that once held warmth — joy, belonging, love — return in memory like summer sun, too bright to hold. And just as heat can become unbearable, so too can the emptiness that follows. In the cold gusts of memory, we find ourselves reaching for that warmth again — even when it once overwhelmed us.

But writing about grief isn't always easy. Just yesterday, I felt the energy to put it into words. Today, it’s harder — not because I don’t want to write, but because some days simply ask more of us. And that’s okay. It’s about finding balance — between the things you love and the quiet pull of the late-night hours, when you write without knowing exactly what you want to say.

Tonight, I grieve for yesterday; the warmth of the night air, so soft and embracing. And then, today, everything shifted. On the train, people stared wearily at the small screens of their phones, as if just as puzzled by how quickly things can change. Sandals, crop tops, summer shorts — and then, just like that, a ten-degree drop in temperature. Because it can. And my body felt heavier, weighed down by thoughts of my grandparents.

They are both gone now. But in my mind, they’re still sitting at the kitchen table in their apartment in Saint Petersburg, Russia; bickering about everything and nothing, small things that never really mattered. Familiar things. Forgotten things. Grief comes in waves, in questions people ask about the past or the future. And then you realize that time has never stood still. Everything moves on, and so must you, no matter how much you long to return to the places where you once felt safe.

My eyelids are heavy now. The air in my small apartment has cooled. The heat is gone. And so, for now, is the grief. All I can think about is the softness of a warm blanket — the kind of comfort that reminds you it’s okay for grief to step aside sometimes. Especially on days when you don’t quite understand it, or when you simply don’t want to make space for it in your routine.

Summer has only just begun, yet already people are grieving the days that have slipped away. Because that’s how quickly everything passes.