The First 30 Days: Walking Through Grief One Day at a Time

By Rev. Dr. Brandon Neal, Board-Certified Chaplain and End-of-Life Doula

When we speak of grief, it is tempting to refer to it in broad strokes—weeks, months, even years. But anyone who has truly loved and lost understands this: in the valley of grief, time doesn’t move in weeks or months. It moves in moments. That’s why I don’t say “the first month” after a loss. I say the first 30 days—because in the early days of mourning, every single day can feel like an eternity.

As a chaplain and minister, I have walked with many families in the sacred space of loss. And whether the death was sudden or expected, peaceful or painful, there is no shortcut through grief. The only way is through. So let me offer a few reflections on what the first 30 days of grief often look and feel like—and how we can hold space for ourselves and others in that time.

Day 1: The World Stands Still

The first day after a loved one passes can feel surreal. There’s the initial shock, the flurry of phone calls, the planning, the condolences. But when the silence comes—when the door closes and it’s just you and the stillness—grief sets in. A grief that doesn’t always roar; sometimes it just whispers, “They’re gone.”

Days 2–7: The Fog of Final Arrangements

These days are often consumed with funeral plans, obituary writing, and making decisions no heart is ever prepared for. Many people operate in a daze—functional but fragile. The adrenaline of responsibility can mask the emotional weight, but the body remembers. Fatigue, headaches, and heaviness are common. Grief lives in the body as much as it lives in the soul.

Days 8–14: Reality Begins to Sink In

After the burial or memorial, after loved ones have gone back to their lives, reality begins to settle. The calls slow down. The meals stop coming. The world keeps moving—but yours may feel frozen. This is often when loneliness hits hardest. The temptation is to “be strong,” but I encourage you to be real. It’s okay to cry, to journal, to sit in silence. It’s okay not to be okay.

Days 15–21: The Questioning Phase

By the third week, many begin to wrestle with deep spiritual and existential questions. Why did this happen? Could I have done more? Where is God in all of this? These are sacred questions. And our God—the One who weeps with us—is not offended by them. In fact, this is where many begin to encounter God not just as a Sovereign, but as a Comforter. A Companion in suffering. A Father who sees, hears, and understands.

Days 22–30: Small Steps Forward

By the end of the first 30 days, the rawness may still be there, but some find themselves slowly taking small steps forward—returning to work, talking with friends, or simply going outside for air. These aren’t signs that you’re “over it.” Grief isn’t something we get over. It’s something we learn to carry. And these steps don’t mean you’re forgetting your loved one. They mean you’re learning to live while remembering.

A Word to the Grieving Heart

Beloved, if you’re in the first 30 days of grief, know this: you are not alone. Your pain is valid. Your tears are seen. And though it may feel like each day is too much to bear, I promise you—there is grace for today. Not for the whole month. Not for the whole year. But for today. And that is enough.

Jesus said, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted” (Matthew 5:4). That is not a future tense promise. That is a right-now reality. Comfort is coming. Hope is alive. And even in this valley, God walks with you.

One day at a time.

If this post spoke to you, consider sharing it with someone who may be in their own first 30 days of grief. Sometimes, a gentle word is all we need to feel a little less alone.