Stop Apologising For Taking Your Time After Parent Loss

I replaced my garden fences this week and I’m kinda surprised by how excited I am about them. Proper middle-aged territory.

It also led to a text exchange with the back garden neighbour that’s sat with me ever since.

She asked how long the new fences would take after the old ones were torn down. It was clear she was a bit freaked out by the change. I said "a few hours" as they were just clearing the brush and getting the concrete posts into some super stubborn ground.

Then she replied:

“I’m dealing with a lot and I know my garden is a state but Mum died nearly 2 years now and it’s taken its toll. I do apologise and I'll get it sorted out soon. Sorry again.”

I didn’t even know her Mum had died. I felt bad about that.

I told her she didn’t need to apologise for anything. Said I was sorry to hear about her Mum and that I understood how hard it can be. I shared how Dad died four years ago and I’m still adjusting in ways I didn’t expect.

We exchanged a few more messages. A bit of kindness, and a couple of hugs sent over text.

But that apology stuck. I felt it in the pit of my stomach.

I was perplexed by our instinct to say sorry for not being “back to normal” yet. For letting parts of life slide. For taking longer than expected.

I’ve done the same more times than I can remember.

• Apologising to colleagues when a teary wave hits and I need a minute.

• Apologising to a friend mid-conversation when she grumbled about wedding issues because I suddenly got upset Dad won’t be there for mine if it happens.

• Apologising for forgetting birthdays because I’d checked out for a few days and lost track of time.

And none of this is because I’d done something wrong. But because it felt like I had. We apologise because we think we’re doing grief wrong.

Why We Keep Apologising For Grief

Part of it's simple - grief doesn’t follow social rules.

It alters reality and shows up at inconvenient times. It makes you slower, foggier, less reliable than you’re used to being. So you end up signalling and over-explaining to other people:

“I know this isn’t ideal. I’m not trying to make things difficult.”

And as high-functioning achievers, used to being the capable, safe pair of hands, we hate letting others down. It doesn't even matter what the activity is as we want to have it covered. So that signal often comes out as an apology.

There’s also the deeper layer to this. The one we don’t always say out loud because it scares us.

We start to feel like a burden, and it sucks.

It's not necessarily because anyone’s told us that. But because life carries on, and we’re still dealing with something that hasn’t wrapped up neatly and still fricking hurts.

So you protect yourself by trying to soften it.

“Sorry I’m still like this.”

“Sorry I haven’t sorted it yet.”

“Sorry I’m not quite myself.”

And it's not only this aspect. Another factor is the timeline we’ve all absorbed without really questioning it. The sense that after a certain (mythical) point, you should be better. More functional. More on top of things.

So when you’re not living up to these "standards", the apology fills the gap.

The feeling of taking longer, weirdly and incorrectly, feels like failure.

What’s Actually Going On

Most of the things we apologise for after loss are completely expected.

Your attention shifts. Your energy drops. Your priorities change. Some things matter less. Some things feel harder. Some things just don’t get done. It's almost impossible to keep the status quo going without there being any impact, no matter how hard we try.

It's like admitting the world has irreversibly changed, and dealing with it makes it so starkly real.

And even though it feels like failure, it's actually an adjustment.

But when your internal world has changed and your external life hasn’t caught up yet, it creates friction. That discomfort and sense of unease you can't shift, but weighs heavy in your chest.

I was desperate when back in the office to stop letting my eyes water up thinking about Dad. Loaded on the pressure to be unaffected and "professional". But instead of questioning these expectations, we question ourselves. We beat ourselves up for not meeting our unrelenting and unreasonable standards.

Then we apologise for the gap, even when it isn't needed.

What To Do Instead Of Apologising

I'm not suggesting we ignore other people's needs or pretend nothing else matters. We can't always stay in loss-oriented mode because we still need to function in our lives and don't live in isolation. By the way, I talk about loss vs restoration modes in this post about the Dual Process Model of Grief.

So instead, let's get more honest and real about what’s happening. Turn it back to yourself. Would you expect someone in grief to apologise for missing things here and there? I doubt it, right? So why expect it from yourself?

In practical terms, instead of apologising, maybe say:

“It’s been a slower couple of years for me.”

“I’m still finding my feet with it.”

“Some things have taken a back seat.”

Or if you really want to experiment with this, try saying nothing at all. Don't explain.

I know giving in to our apologetic instincts offers short-term relief, but it teaches our brain we aren't allowed to be human and restore ourselves in tough times.

That's ultimately the core habit to shift here. And it's likely a lifestyle pattern that's not served you in the past either. So even if it's the harder option now, it's a more helpful one in the long run.

Why? Because it means trusting and accepting you don’t need to justify the pace you’re moving at.

After loss, things don’t resolve neatly. They shift in their own time and in their own way.

Find Steadiness By Giving Yourself A Break

That message from my neighbour wasn’t really about the state of her garden. On the surface, I could have read it like that. But I reckon it was her trying to make something deeply painful feel more acceptable. Requesting forgiveness where it wasn't needed.

And bless her, she was doing it in the most polite, self-effacing way possible. My heart broke as I read her words, because I get it. I’ve done it. And I know how frustrating but isolating it is.

You don’t need to apologise for grieving while you’re just trying to get through, minute by minute, day by day.

Or whether it's two years in, or even four. Possibly even longer. Because there isn’t a deadline here you’ve missed. Except the one you've created for yourself.

More often than not, you're still learning what life looks like your life rebuilds around loss. And that's not something that happens overnight.

If you’re tired of second-guessing whether you’re doing grief “right”, I go deeper into this in my self-guided workshop Navigating Grief with Compassion. It’s a steady, no-pressure way to understand what’s happening and how to find your footing again.

Sabrina Ahmed

Burnout & Resilience Coach

Learn more at my About page.