When someone you love dies, life doesn’t go back to normal. It reshapes itself around the loss. And as you start moving through the world again, you come face-to-face with a series of moments known simply as the firsts.

These are the first experiences you have without them. The first milestones, celebrations, quiet moments and daily rituals that used to include them in some way. Some of these moments you see coming. Others catch you completely off guard. All of them carry emotional weight.

The firsts are often some of the hardest parts of grief because each one introduces a new version of reality, a new reminder of what has changed. This blog is here to help you understand why these moments feel so intense and how you can move through them with a little more gentleness.

The first birthday, anniversary or celebration

Milestones have a way of shining a spotlight on absence. On a birthday or anniversary, you’re not just missing the person. You’re missing how they made the day feel — the message they’d send, the tone of their voice, the way they celebrated you or how you celebrated them.

It’s normal for these days to feel louder, heavier or more emotionally charged than the days around them.

Some people want to mark the day in a quiet, personal way. Others gather with friends or family. Some choose distraction. Some sit with their memories. There’s no wrong approach. Whatever you choose is right for where you are in your grief.

The first Christmas or holiday without them

Christmas, birthdays, holidays and cultural celebrations carry layers of tradition and expectation. The first time you experience them without your person, everything feels “off”. Even if the day goes better than expected, there’s usually a moment — a song, a chair at the table, a decoration, a feeling — that brings everything crashing back.

This doesn’t mean you’re going backwards. It means you cared deeply. It means you’re human.

The first holiday season after a loss is often about survival rather than celebration. And that’s okay.

The first time you do something you once shared

These moments can be surprisingly emotional. It might be the first time you:

• Visit a place you loved together
• Try a hobby they introduced you to
• Watch a film you always watched as a pair
• Redo a routine that used to involve them
• Face a decision they would usually help you make

Sometimes these firsts are comforting. Sometimes they hurt. Sometimes they do both at once.

What matters is pacing yourself. If something feels too painful right now, you can wait. Nothing needs to be forced.

The first time you realise you laughed — properly — without them

This is a first that can catch people off guard.

You might laugh at something unexpectedly and immediately feel guilty, as if joy is some kind of betrayal. This reaction is incredibly common. But laughter doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten them or “moved on”. It means your nervous system is trying to come up for air.

You’re allowed moments of relief, joy or lightness. They don’t erase your grief. They coexist with it.

The first time you truly feel their absence

For many people, the reality of the loss doesn’t fully land immediately. In the first few weeks or months, the mind is in protection mode. But a moment eventually arrives where you feel the absence with clarity — sometimes because of something as small as reaching for your phone to text them.

It’s a shock. It can feel like the loss has just happened all over again. But this is part of grief integrating. It’s your heart and mind trying to understand a new world without them in it.

The first year of firsts

The first year after a loss is often a patchwork of emotional landmines. You might move through a normal day and then hit a date, a sound, a smell or an object that sends you spiralling.

This doesn’t mean you’re not healing. Healing isn’t linear. Grief loops, dips, spikes and softens. The first year is especially unpredictable because everything is unfamiliar. Every emotional corner is sharp.

By the time you reach the end of that first year, you may feel a strange mix of exhaustion, sadness and relief. You’ve survived something massive. And even though the grief doesn’t disappear, the landscape starts to feel less chaotic as you move forward.

Allowing yourself to prepare ahead

One thing that helps with firsts is gentle preparation. Not planning every detail — just acknowledging that certain days or moments may be difficult.

You might want to:

• Clear your schedule
• Spend the day with someone supportive
• Create a ritual that honours your person
• Take time outdoors
• Light a candle or write a letter
• Set boundaries around social events
• Have an exit plan for gatherings

Preparation doesn’t remove the pain, but it reduces the shock.

Rituals can offer comfort

Rituals don’t have to be grand or polished. They can be tiny moments of connection.

Some people:

• Cook their person’s favourite meal
• Play a song that reminds them of happy memories
• Visit a place that holds meaning
• Write something they wish they could say
• Donate or volunteer in their honour
• Hold a moment of silence at a certain time
• Rituals help you stay connected while still moving forward.

When the firsts don’t feel emotional at all

This is important: not every first will feel big or dramatic — and that doesn’t mean you didn’t love them enough.

Sometimes you’ll breeze through a milestone. Sometimes the day after will hit harder than the day itself. Sometimes the moment won’t land until years later.

Everyone’s internal timetable is different.

You don’t need to “perform” the firsts

People sometimes feel pressured to mark certain dates or react a certain way. But you don’t owe anyone a specific display of emotion.

If you want the day to be quiet, let it be quiet.
If you want to be surrounded by people, surround yourself.
If you want to ignore the day entirely, that’s allowed.

There’s no performance required in grief. Only honesty.

The firsts soften over time

The firsts are sharp because they’re new. Over time, they become seconds, thirds, fourths. The pain doesn’t disappear, but it becomes more familiar, less jarring. What once felt unbearable begins to settle into something you can hold without breaking.

You learn the balance between remembering and living. You learn that the love stays, even when life looks different. And you learn that you are stronger, more resilient and more adaptable than you ever wanted to be.

Walking through the firsts with compassion

The firsts are unavoidable, but they don’t have to be faced alone or without support. Each one is a reminder not just of loss, but of love — of the moments, routines and relationships that shaped your life.

Be gentle with yourself as you navigate these milestones. Lower the expectations, acknowledge the weight and move one moment at a time. If you need help, reach out. Being supported doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.

The firsts are painful, yes. But they’re also part of honouring your person’s place in your life. Part of learning who you are now. Part of carrying love forward in a new way.

And you’ll get through them — not by being strong, but by being real, honest and tender with yourself as you go.