Grief Is a Tuna Sandwich (and Other Things Nobody Wants to Hear)

Here’s the thing nobody tells you about grief:
It’s not cinematic. It’s not a perfect single tear rolling down your cheek. It’s not even poetic most of the time.

Grief is a tuna sandwich.

It stinks.
It lingers.
You don’t want it—but there it is on your plate.

And the wild part? Nobody else can eat it for you.

The First Bite

At first, grief feels impossible. Like holding your nose while staring down at something you really don’t want to touch. You think: Nope. I’ll just skip this meal. I’ll be fine.

But grief doesn’t go away just because you refuse it. It waits. Gets colder. Stronger. Smellier.

And eventually, you realize: the only way out is through. Bite by bite.

Grief Shows Up in Weird Places

Sometimes it’s at the funeral. Sometimes it’s in the grocery store, staring at your person’s favorite cereal. Sometimes it’s three months later when you hear a song in the produce aisle and suddenly the tuna smell hits you again.

It sneaks up. It repeats. Like leftovers you didn’t ask for.

Nobody Eats It Gracefully

Most of the time, tuna ends up in your lap, or on the table, or on your kid brother. Sometimes, all three. Doesn’t matter how hard you try. The tuna will find a way.

Similarly, there’s no “right” way to grieve. Some people cry. Some get angry. Some binge-watch four seasons of anything that isn’t real life. Some go numb.

All of it is valid. All of it is just different bites of the same sandwich.

A Strange Kind of Nourishment

Here’s the paradox: as awful as it tastes, grief is also what feeds you. It’s what proves your love was real. That connection mattered. That you lived, fully enough, to lose.

Grief is the tax we pay on love. And yes, it stinks. But it’s also holy in its own messy way.

A Gentle Note

Not every sandwich can be swallowed alone. If your grief feels unbearable—like you’re choking instead of chewing—please reach out. We’ve gathered Crisis Resources with people who know how to sit with you at that table.

With love (and maybe a side of chips),
The Undelulu Team