Dear Hope: Dear Hope, I expected summer to lighten my mood, but I can't stop thinking about all of our memories. What do I do?

Dear Hope, Since she died, every season has been difficult. I expected summer to lighten my mood, but I can't stop thinking about all of our memories. Our vacations. Our lazy beach days. The nostalgia is killing me. What do I do?

Sure, “time heals wounds” (really it just changes them) but, grief doesn’t go away just because the UV index is higher. 

The world might try to convince you otherwise. The sun comes out, the days get longer, the invitations start rolling in—beach trips, BBQs, weddings, rooftop drinks. Everyone's a little more joyful. 

And you might be feeling... stuck.
Grieving. Missing them. Feeling like a ghost in a season that once held your best days.

Summer doesn't fix grief. It can magnify it.
Because now the contrast is brutal. Everything around you says “lighten up,” while everything inside you is heavy as hell.

You think the sunshine will save you, but it brings memories instead. The kind of memories that sneak up and gut-punch you. That road trip with the windows down. The beach day that turned into a tradition. The way they looked in the glow of a fire pit, barefoot and laughing.

Now you're sitting in a season that used to belong to both of you. And it hurts. Bad. The nostalgia aches in a way that seems to split you open. It’s the cruelest kind of déjà vu: everything looks the same, but nothing is. Because they’re gone, and you’re still here.

The Pressure to Be Happy Can Make Grief Feel Worse

A lot of people’s earliest memories of summer are easy – school is out, you’re hanging out with friends. This has made it so there’s a deeply ingrained idea that summer is supposed to be easy. Does that mean grief should pause when the weather gets nice? That you should smile more, socialize more, “get some air.”?

No. Grief doesn’t give a damn about the forecast. And you can’t schedule healing around the seasons.

In fact, the expectation to be okay? That can make the pain feel so sharp. Everyone else is laughing over margaritas and planning vacations, and you’re trying not to cry at the smell of sunscreen. You're carrying something that no one can see and it’s so damn lonely.

Things You Should Know if You’re Grieving This Summer

So here’s my best advice:
You don’t have to fix this summer.
You don’t have to outrun the sadness.
You don’t need to “make new memories” right now or plaster over your loss with sunshine and SPF 50.

Stop trying to shove it down just because the days are longer. Let it rise. Let it sting. Let it sit with you on the porch, in the car, on the shoreline you used to walk together.

No big healing journey. No magical transformation.

Just one moment. One that belongs to you.

It might be standing in the sun with your eyes closed. It might be swimming alone, quietly, where no one asks anything of you.  It might be ordering their favorite drink, sipping it slow, and attempting to not cry in public.

That one moment won’t fix everything. But it counts. It reminds you that you’re still here. That you’re still breathing. That even though summer doesn’t feel like yours anymore… a tiny sliver of it still can be.

You can make space—for both the love and the loss. For the ache and the living.

Because they were your summer once. Slowly, you can start becoming your own (if that’s what you want). 

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