Brad McMasters, Grief Educator & Coach

by Brad McMasters, Grief Educator and Coach

Grief does not take a break, but it often takes a little summer vacation. The days are long and there is so much to do. Yard care. Gardening. Farmers markets. Home projects. Road trips. Baseball games. Hikes. Visitors. County fairs. Reunions. There are more social events. Family gatherings. Weddings. Graduations. Barbecues. Outdoor concerts. With so much motion, grief can ride more quietly in the back seat. As the shadows grow longer and the days grow shorter, it can move right back to the front.

As I write this, my most significant losses are also looming on the calendar. My brother in September, and both my parents in the first half of October. The crisper air and turning leaves can be even more melancholy if your loss[es] occurred this time of year.

Why grief can feel stronger in the fall

• Fewer distractions. Summer business slows. Quieter days and evenings leave more space for memory and meaning.

• Anniversaries and seasonal cues. Dates, smells, and sounds return. Smoke from a woodstove, apple cider, football on the radio, school bells, a favorite sweater. The body remembers.

• Shorter daylight. Less light can lower energy and mood for many people, which can make feelings heavier. Seasonal Affect Disorder (SAD) is a real thing.

• Routines shift. Back-to-school, end-of-year planning, and holiday lead-up add pressure and can highlight who is missing.

• Looking back and looking ahead. Harvest time invites reflection on what grew and what did not. The approach of holidays raises questions about traditions, roles, and empty chairs.

• Echoes of last fall. If hard things happened around this season, the calendar can stir them up again.

What it may look like

• Stronger waves of sadness at dusk or on cool mornings

• More frequent tears or a flat, heavy mood

• Restlessness, irritability, or feeling on edge (that’s me!)

• Trouble sleeping, vivid dreams, or low motivation

• Avoiding stores as holiday displays appear, or feeling pulled to them without knowing why

• Wanting to cocoon more, or the opposite, seeking extra company or distraction

• Body memories: tight chest, stomach knots, aches that visit with the weather

• A sense of being “behind” while others seem to speed up

Ideas that may help

• Name the season. Say out loud or write, “Autumn is a tender time for me.” Naming reduces surprise and blame.

• Dose your grief. Set gentle, time-limited windows to remember, cry, write, or look at photos. Then shift to a grounding activity.

• Light and movement. Morning light, a short walk, or gentle stretching can lift energy. Even ten minutes helps.

• Plan ahead for dates. Put anniversaries and holidays on the calendar. Decide in advance how you want to spend those days and who you want (and who you don’t want) near you.

• Create a small ritual. Light a candle at dinner, place a leaf or stone on a memory bowl, cook a favorite recipe, write a note and tuck it under a pumpkin on the porch.

• Right-size social life. It is okay to leave early, to say yes to one thing and no to two. Share your limits and needs with a friend who understands.

• Invite support. Coffee with a safe person, a support group, or a counselor can give you language and company.

• Tend the basics. Steady meals, water, sleep care, and limiting alcohol or endless scrolling protect your nervous system.

• Meaning and connection. Volunteer, donate in their name, or help someone with a fall task. There could be a senior in your life who needs their leaves raked. Purpose softens edges.

• Find joy in what you can about the season. This is most important. Give yourself permission to enjoy small things without apology: the slant of late-afternoon light, warm socks, a cozy sweater from the dryer, stirring a pot of soup, fresh apples with sharp cheddar, raking leaves with music on, a good book on a rainy night, a drive to see the autumn colors, carving a pumpkin alone or with children, and yes—that darned Pumpkin Spice in whatever form that makes you smile.

Feeling more tender in autumn is not a reversal. Grief is not a straight line. Each return brings strength, wisdom, and new ways to move forward with your loved one in your heart.