When You’re Grieving, Is It Wrong to find Joy and Hope Again?

Two things happened over the past few days that have made me even more determined to choose hope while grieving.

Don’t get me wrong, this has not always been my mindset. I’ve always been a glass-half-empty type of person. My late partner, Paul, was glass-half-full.

Live life to the fullest

Paul came into my life when I was 38 and taught me that life is for living. Memories matter more than possessions. Always look for the other side of the story. Live life to the fullest and don’t let the turkeys get you down (the turkeys being the negative people).

He also told me just before he died that I was strong enough to get through anything, and that’s what I hold onto. He knew me best, and if he believed in me, then I must too.

This bereft version of me would probably make Paul laugh. I’m sure he’s watching proud of his work. We had many conversations about the point of life. I couldn’t see it then, but now I do.

There was the day he died, and one day there will be the day I die. It’s the bit in the middle that matters. This is the present, where we live, where memories are created, and where I choose to stay.

If we don’t have hope then how do we get from one step to the other.

took off my watch a couple of weeks ago because it ran out of charge, and I still haven’t put it back on. I’ve realised that not wearing it has been quietly freeing. I used to spend my evenings watching the clock, wishing time would move faster. The only way to make time go quicker is to fill that space with things that bring you joy.

Grief hits like an invisible punch

That doesn’t mean I’m not grieving or that I don’t feel sad. Every day I miss him. Grief is like an invisible punch that comes out of nowhere, knocking the wind out of you when you remember you’ll never speak to them again. The punch is grey and heavy, and you never know when it will hit. You carry on walking alongside grief, but every now and then it reminds you who’s boss.

I take these punches daily and have done for ten months. But I know I’ll survive them because I always get back up. I’ve built a routine that helps: getting outside for at least two hours (luckily, I work outdoors), listening to positive music or podcasts, focusing on something uplifting, and writing. I write here, and I’m also writing Paul’s memoirs, which I think has been the key to staying positive.

There are days when I can’t stop crying and I hate this life I’ve been handed, but then I look at my children and they give me the strength to live.

The period between Christmas and New Year 2025 was tough. Not because it was the “first,” as many grief experts say, but because I was out of my routine and surrounded by negativity.

Choose positive people

Being around positive people doesn’t automatically make me positive, but being around negative people definitely makes me negative. If you have a choice, always choose positive people.

When the negative committee in my head starts up, I have to find a way to return to my mantra of choosing hope. No matter how hard it is I have to get outside, listen to positive music, write, and look for the fragments of joy that are always around if you choose to see them.

Twenty-three days into the new year, I’m still full of hope. I’m full of grief too, and that’s ok. The two can live side by side.

Moments of joy

Here are some of those moments of joy I try and look for each day:

A smile from a stranger

The colour of the sky

Something that makes you laugh

A song that brings back a happy memory

Being snuggled under a warm blanket

A cup of tea

Seeing someone smile

Hearing someone laugh

Birds singing

If you’d like a gentle reminder to look for the good, download the “Moments of Joy” bingo card. See how many moments you can spot today. Each one is proof that even in grief, life still offers us reasons to smile.

One of the moments that made me question whether we’re “allowed” to feel hope while grieving came from a Facebook group for people who are grieving. Someone shared how they were choosing positivity, and the comments on their post turned very negative. People said it was unhelpful to give false hope.

I’m technically still in early grief, and I’m constantly told the second year is worse than the first. That kind of negativity sets you up for a downward year before it even begins.

In the world of non-grievers, it feels like we’re expected not to be depressive. And in the world of grievers, we’re expected to be depressive and chastised if we dare for a brighter outlook on life. So what happens when you don’t fit in?

Grief Imposter Syndrome

That’s where grief imposter syndrome hits. Because I’m trying to create a future that includes hope and joy, does that mean my grief or love is any less? Of course not. But tell that to my brain who keeps telling me that.

I was lucky to be loved by someone who taught me to live in the moment. Even though he’s no longer here, I choose to listen to his advice rather than a stranger online. This is where writing his memoirs has really helped. It allows me to step back into the world we created and it is here that I can hear his voice and feel his strength. I know what he would want me to do.

I mentioned two moments that made me reflect on hope. The second was when my son and I were on the phone. He suddenly spotted someone on a car park roof who looked like they might jump. He called 999, and thankfully, the police were already on their way. The person came down safely, and I hope they get the help they need.

Because really, what do we have if we don’t have something to keep us getting up each day?

Whether you’re grieving or not, it’s important to look for the small joys in life. And if you are grieving, you’re allowed to let hope and positivity walk beside your grief.

That is not say that if you do find yourself on the top of a car park roof that the solution is to look for the joys and you will be healed. This situation can only be helped by trained professionals and is far more complex than I could possibly imagine.

Nor am I saying that grief is something we can fix or move past. It becomes part of who we are. But if I can soften its edges by noticing the small glimmers of joy in each day, then that’s what I’ll keep doing.

Hope and grief can walk beside each other

Because hope doesn’t cancel out grief, it walks beside it, reminding us that even in the darkest moments, life still can hold those magic moments.