Grieving Someone Who Is Still Alive: Understanding Anticipatory Grief
- Val Blair
- Aug 2
- 6 min read

Sometimes the hardest goodbye begins long before someone is gone.
There is a kind of grief that few people talk about.
It doesn't begin with a funeral.
It doesn't begin with a phone call in the middle of the night.
Sometimes, it begins with a conversation.
Sometimes, it begins with a diagnosis.
Sometimes, it begins the moment you realize the person you love is changing, even though they're still sitting beside you.
I didn't have a name for that feeling when I first experienced it.
I only knew my heart was breaking.
My grandmother looked at my partner, smiled, remembered his name, and then quietly said,
"I'm so sorry to hear about Valerie's death."
Except I was standing right beside her.
For a moment, I wasn't her granddaughter anymore.
In her mind, I had become Betty, her youngest daughter, my mother, who had passed away years earlier.
She still looked at me with warmth.
She still looked at me with love.
But the memories that connected us had begun to change.
I remember leaving that day with an ache I couldn't explain. It felt as though I was watching the sands of time slip through my fingers. One memory at a time. One conversation at a time. One piece of the person I loved slowly drifting away.
Looking back now, I realize something I couldn't understand then.
Love doesn't disappear when memories begin to fade.
Sometimes it simply finds another way to speak.
That day was the first time I experienced what I would later learn was called anticipatory grief.
I only wish someone had told me I wasn't alone.

What Is Anticipatory Grief?

Anticipatory grief is the grief we experience before a significant loss occurs.
Sometimes it's because someone is living with dementia, Alzheimer's disease, cancer, or another progressive illness. Sometimes it's because a relationship is changing through divorce, addiction, or estrangement. Sometimes the person is physically present, but life as you once knew it has already begun to change.
This experience is more common than many people realize.
A 2026 scoping review published in Palliative & Supportive Care examined 30 studies on anticipatory grief among caregivers of people living with dementia. Researchers found that anticipatory grief is often shaped by the gradual changes in the person you love, shifting family roles, caregiving demands, and the uncertainty of what lies ahead. The review also found that while anticipatory grief can increase emotional distress, including symptoms of depression, protective factors such as social support, acceptance, and healthy coping strategies can help lessen its impact.
Years later, I would discover there was a name for what I had experienced. That realization didn't change what I'd lived through, but it did remind me that I had never been alone.
My heart wasn't grieving "too early."
It was simply responding to love.
And perhaps yours is, too.
Loving Someone While Living With Uncertainty
Years later, someone I loved shared that he had cancer.
I remember how quickly my mind raced ahead.
Every missed phone call became a reason to panic.
Every silence became a story I created in my head.
I spent so much energy trying to prepare for a future that hadn't happened yet that I almost missed the gift of the present.
Slowly, I began to understand that love wasn't asking me to have all the answers.
It wasn't asking me to fix everything.
It wasn't asking me to carry someone else's journey.
It was asking me to be present.
I couldn't control his experience.
I couldn't change the outcome.
But I could choose how I showed up.
I could enjoy lunch together.
I could laugh.
I could tell him I loved him.
I could stop allowing fear to steal the moments we still had.
Looking back, I realize that presence became its own kind of medicine.
Not because it changed what was happening.
But because it changed how we experienced the journey together.
That lesson has stayed with me ever since.
What Anticipatory Grief Taught Me

Presence is more powerful than panic.
One of the greatest gifts anticipatory grief gave me, though I never would have asked for it, was learning the difference between panic and presence.
Fear constantly pulled me into tomorrow.
Love gently invited me back to today.
Back to the conversation.
Back to the laughter.
Back to the ordinary moments that would one day become extraordinary memories.
Presence doesn't erase grief.
It simply reminds us that love is still here.
You cannot carry someone else's journey for them.
This may have been the hardest lesson of all.
I wanted so desperately to make things easier for the people I loved.
I researched.
I planned.
I worried.
I searched for answers.
Eventually, I realized that love doesn't ask us to carry someone else's journey.
It asks us to walk beside them while they carry it.
Sometimes the greatest act of love isn't fixing.
It's listening.
It's sitting quietly.
It's asking, "What do you need today?" and trusting their answer.
Caregivers need care, too.
When someone you love is hurting, it's easy to forget yourself.
You make sure they're eating.
You remind them to rest.
You drive them to appointments.
You hold everything together.
Meanwhile, your own heart quietly carries a weight no one else can see.
Please don't forget yourself.
Therapy helped me.
Writing letters I never intended to send helped me.
Talking honestly about my fears helped me.
Support isn't something you earn after a loss.
It's something you deserve while you're living through one.
You cannot pour from an empty cup.
Taking care of yourself isn't selfish.
It's part of loving well.
Say the words.
Losing people has taught me one lesson I hope I never forget.
Don't assume the people you love already know.
Tell them.
Say, "I love you."
Say, "I'm grateful for you."
Say, "I'm glad you're here."
Not because you're expecting goodbye.
But because love deserves to be spoken while we still have the chance.
If This Is Your Story
If you're grieving someone whose illness is changing them...
If you're watching dementia slowly rearrange the memories of someone you love...
If you're navigating cancer, addiction, divorce, or another life-changing transition...
Please hear this.
You are not grieving too early.
You are grieving because you love deeply.
There is nothing wrong with your heart.
It is doing exactly what hearts do when they care for someone.
Love and grief can exist in the very same moment.
Hope and sorrow can sit beside one another.
One does not cancel out the other.
Sometimes healing isn't about letting go.
Sometimes it's about learning a new way to hold on.
🌿 A Moment in the Secret Garden
Before you return to your day, I invite you to pause.
Close your eyes.
Picture the person you've been thinking about as you've read these words.
Not as they are today.
But as they laughed.
As they smiled.
As they made you feel loved.
Hold that memory gently.
Take one slow breath.
As you exhale, ask yourself:
How can I honor this person by being fully present with the time we still have, or by carrying their love with me today?
There isn't a perfect answer.
There doesn't need to be.
There is only this moment.
And sometimes, this moment is enough.
If you're walking through anticipatory grief, or any other form of loss, know that you don't have to carry it alone.
Whether you're caring for someone, grieving someone, or simply trying to make sense of a life that looks different than you imagined, there is space for you here.
May you find moments of rest when your heart feels heavy.
May you remember that love is never measured only by how long we have someone, but by how deeply we choose to be present.
And above all, may you know this:
You are never walking this path alone.
Reference
Rodríguez Colmenares, S., Puga, F., et al. (2026). Anticipatory grief among caregivers of people living with dementia: A scoping review. Palliative & Supportive Care. Cambridge University Press.




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