WE all know someone, a friend, a neighbour or a colleague who has cared for a loved one with a terminal illness.

Or maybe you’ve sat beside a hospital bed yourself, waiting for updates that don’t bring good news. Maybe you’ve watched someone you love slowly slip away, bit by bit, long before their heart stops beating.

Grief doesn’t always wait until the funeral. Sometimes, it begins the moment you hear the diagnosis; the moment you realise the days ahead will be fewer than the ones behind. The moment you catch yourself mourning someone who is still physically here.

Few things prepare us for that kind of pain. And yet, it’s more common than we talk about.

This is what we call anticipatory grief, a quiet, aching sorrow that begins before the final goodbye. It’s the weight on your chest when you hear their name, the constant fear of that late-night phone call, the guilt of smiling while they suffer. It’s real, it’s valid, and it deserves to be acknowledged.

Grief, as people say, is the price we pay for love. The sorrow we carry when they’re gone is a reflection of just how much they shaped our lives.

What Is anticipatory grief?

Anticipatory grief begins when we start emotionally preparing for a loss that hasn’t yet happened. It’s not just fear, it’s grief in slow motion. You may sit beside your loved one and already feel the ache of their absence. You may find yourself imagining how you’ll say goodbye. And while they’re still here, you’re already mourning the moments you know you’ll miss.

This kind of grief robs you of sleep and peace. It isn’t constant, some days you’ll feel okay, and others, the sadness will feel overwhelming. It’s a rollercoaster of hope and despair.

For caregivers and family members, this grief can begin as soon as a serious diagnosis is received. Life becomes shadowed by “what ifs.” You might become hyper-attuned to every word they say, every physical change, as your mind tries to hold onto them. And in the process, you might forget to fully live in the moments that still remain.

Grief isn’t linear

We often hear about the five stages of grief; denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. But grief rarely follows a clean, predictable path. Instead of ticking off boxes, you might cycle through these feelings again and again. Grief is more like waves that rise and fall, sometimes gently, sometimes without warning.

One day, you might feel steady. The next, a smell, a song, or an old photo could unravel you. You could feel okay for weeks and then break down while folding laundry or driving to work. That doesn’t mean you’re failing. It means you’re grieving, and that’s okay.

There’s no timer on grief. Not after death, and not before it. Whether it’s been a month, a year, or ten, your feelings are still valid. And it’s important to remember: there’s no shame in laughing, in enjoying life, or even in feeling joy while your loved one is still suffering. These moments don’t dishonour them, they help you survive.

Creating emotional safety for grief

From a clinical psychologist’s perspective, one of the most important things we can offer someone experiencing grief, especially anticipatory grief is emotional safety. This means creating an environment, internally and externally, where your emotions are allowed to exist without judgment.

Grief is not something to be fixed. Instead, we support people in making space for their feelings, naming what they’re going through, and giving themselves permission to feel it fully.

In therapy, we often see clients unsure if what they’re feeling is “normal.” They ask, “Is it okay to cry even though they’re still here?” or “Why do I feel guilty for hoping for rest when I’m so exhausted from caregiving?” The answer is: yes, it’s okay. These thoughts are more common than people realise, they’re part of the deeply human experience of loving and losing.

Creating emotional safety means learning how to hold space for the messiness of grief: the anger, the relief, the guilt, the fear, the hope. It’s learning how to be gentle with yourself on the days you feel overwhelmed, and knowing that your response doesn’t need to match anyone else’s timeline or expectation. It’s about replacing self-criticism with self-compassion.

Whether it’s through a safe conversation with a trusted person, a quiet reflection in prayer, or a structured space like therapy, giving yourself room to feel without rushing yourself to “move on” is part of healing.

As clinicians, we don’t rush people through grief. We walk with them through it. And if you’re in it right now, grieving someone slowly slipping away, know this: you are not weak. You are loving them the best way you know how even in the ache of goodbye.

Elisabeth Kübler-Ross once wrote:

“The reality is that you will grieve forever. You will not ‘get over’ the loss of a loved one; you will learn to live with it.

You will heal and rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered. You will be whole again, but you will never be the same.

Nor should you be the same, nor would you want to be.”

If you are walking through anticipatory grief now, know this: you are not alone, and you are not broken. Your grief is not a problem to be solved, but a testament to how deeply you love.

Let it shape you, not into someone who is hardened by pain, but someone who learns to live more tenderly in its wake.

Idzzty Hassan is a clinical psychologist at social enterprise providing mental health services Minda Inklusif. The views expressed here are solely the writer’s own.