Grief doesn’t always arrive with a clear ending. Sometimes, it lingers in the space between knowing and not knowing — in the silence, in the uncertainty.

Recently, I watched the documentary about Amy Bradley, who disappeared from a cruise ship in 1998. It was a heartbreaking and haunting story — not just because of the circumstances, but because of what it reveals about long-term grief, and how it lives alongside hope.

Amy’s family has spent over two decades living in that space. For them, time seemed to freeze in 1998, while the rest of the world continued on. Watching them speak reminded me how grief can suspend us — keep us tethered to a moment, while everything and everyone around us moves forward.
When I lost my mum, I remember feeling that same stillness. It was as though I had stopped, but the world hadn’t. Different circumstances, of course, but I can relate to that feeling of being out of step with time — of life continuing while your own heart feels paused.

Amy’s story has recently resurfaced through Netflix and social media. While that visibility might bring a renewed sense of possibility, I imagine it also reopens old wounds. The emotional toll of seeing hope rise again — only to possibly be met with silence — must be incredibly complex.

One moment that stayed with me was when Amy’s brother reflected on the impact of this grief on their family. It made me think about how the loss of a loved one — especially in uncertain circumstances — doesn’t just touch the past. It reaches into our futures. It shapes decisions. It influences how we move through the world.

Grief doesn’t always arrive after death. Sometimes, it comes when someone is missing. Or when we’re left with questions that don’t have answers. That, in itself, is its own kind of grief.

It’s not always visible. It doesn’t always follow a timeline. And often, it’s carried quietly — wrapped up in hope, confusion, love, and fear.

For those living with this kind of grief, I just want to say:
You are not alone. Your experience is valid. You don’t need to have clarity or closure to honour what you’re feeling.

As a person-centred counsellor, I deeply value the uniqueness of each individual’s grief journey. My understanding of grief comes not only from working alongside clients navigating loss but also from my own personal experience. This dual perspective informs my approach: creating a compassionate, non-judgemental space where you can explore your feelings at your own pace.

If you find yourself holding unanswered questions, or carrying grief that feels ambiguous or isolating, know that you don’t have to walk this path alone. When you feel ready, I welcome you to reach out and arrange a session — a safe space to be heard, supported, and understood exactly as you are.

I’m thankful you took the time to read and share this moment.

Nicole