#31 Shaping our stories through metaphors (my favourites are 2, 5 and 9)

How language can help us process grief

Ruhie Vaidya

May 09, 2025

1×

0:00

-7:27

🎧 Listen here ⬆️

📖 Read below ⬇️

a pile of plastic letters and numbers on a pink and blue background — Photo by Towfiqu barbhuiya on Unsplash

Language helps us make sense of the world. It creates a link between our thoughts and emotions, allowing us to communicate what lives deep inside us. Some experiences — like grief — are so vast, so complex, so personal that ordinary words can’t quite capture them. That’s where metaphors come in.

Metaphors and analogies give us something to hold onto. I’ve found them to be incredibly powerful tools for processing grief and healing. They turn the abstract into something concrete, offering snapshots that bring clarity and meaning.

Here are 10 metaphors that have helped me — and many others — give voice to grief.** Each one speaks to a different aspect of the experience. Some will resonate more than others. That’s the thing about grief: it doesn’t follow a single path. It’s many things all at once.

[**My favourites are 2, 5 and 9.]

As you read, take a moment to reflect on your own experience of grief:
If you could pick just one metaphor or image to describe it, what would it be?

Grief is an ocean

This is probably one of the most familiar analogies, and with good reason. It really is true that grief comes and goes in waves. Sometimes, the water is calm. You can paddle and catch your breath. Other times, its force is overwhelming. The waves crash over you with no warning, pulling you under. You can’t control the tide, but over time you learn to ride the waves. Some still knock you off your feet — even months and years later — but you learn how to get back up again, until next time.

Grief is an earthquake

The initial shock can shatter everything. And just when you think the ground is steady again, the aftershocks hit. Sudden, jarring, and disorienting. You learn to rebuild, but the tremors can still catch you off guard.

orange band aid on concrete surface crack — Photo by Luis Villasmil on Unsplash

Grief is a wound

In time, it starts to heal. But it leaves a scar — a mark that never fully fades. It may not be visible to others, but you feel it. The skin has grown over, but the tenderness remains. Sometimes, that scar prickles or aches without warning — a reminder of what was lost.

Grief is like a ball in a box

At first, the ball is huge. It presses constantly against the “pain button” on the inside of the box. The pain feels relentless. Over time, the ball gets smaller — or the box (life) gets bigger — so, naturally, it hits the button less often. But it never disappears. It still rolls around, and every now and then, it finds that button again. And when it does, the pain can feel just as sharp and intense as it did in the beginning.

Grief is a boomerang

[Had to ‘throw’ in a good old Aussie reference — get it? Pun intended]

You try to throw it away, to distance yourself from the pain. But just when you think it’s gone, it comes circling back — sometimes stronger than ever before. Because, the truth is, you can’t throw grief away. As hard as it is, you have to learn how to live with it.

Grief is a long, winding road

It travels across different landscapes. There are many twists and turns. You never really know what’s around the bend. Just when the path seems to level out, there’s another bump in the road or a sudden detour. All you can do is keep going, one step at a time. The only way is through.

persons feet on body of water during daytime — Photo by Ekaterina Antonova on Unsplash

Grief is a tattoo

It becomes a part of you. Permanent. Etched into your skin. It’s not always visible to others, but always felt. It might fade or change shape over time, but it doesn’t disappear. It’s a mark of what you’ve lived through.

Grief is a pressure valve

It builds and builds, slowly, quietly, often unnoticed. Sometimes, we try to contain it, to hold it in and ‘stay strong’. But at a certain point, it needs release. If you don’t let it out, it finds another way — often when you least expect it. Letting it out, through tears, conversation, movement, or silence, isn’t weakness; it’s survival.

stack of jigsaw puzzle pieces — Photo by Hans-Peter Gauster on Unsplash

Grief is a jigsaw puzzle with a missing piece

The picture is still recognisable, still beautiful. But it’s incomplete because a piece of your heart, your life, your world is missing. You can find joy and meaning again, but no matter how much time passes, that space remains. You build around it, but you never forget it.

Grief is a stone in your pocket

[Credit to Jay Shetty, former monk turned motivational speaker, author, and podcast host, for this one.]

The stone is always there. At first, it’s heavy. You feel its weight every time you move. Over time, you grow stronger and the weight becomes more manageable. It feels lighter. But the stone never leaves. It stays in your pocket — a part of your story, a quiet presence you carry with you always.

Metaphors don’t erase the pain of grief, but they help shape it and give it meaning. When you find one that truly resonates with your experience, it can feel like a lightbulb switching on — that sudden, visceral “yes that’s exactly it!” In that moment, you feel seen like never before.

Just as importantly, metaphors help us share our grief with others in a way that is tangible and relatable. They remind us we’re not alone in what we’re feeling. And sometimes, that’s enough — not to fix the pain, but to carry it with a little more clarity, a little more tenderness, and a little more compassion.

Thanks so much for reading!

Until next time,

I’d love to hear from you! Please feel free to click the COMMENT button below to share:

Which of these metaphors or images resonates most with your experience of grief? Or perhaps you have one of your own that better captures your journey?

Grieve Fully, Live Fully

Discussion about this post