Last month my aunt Linda passed away suddenly.

I’m still trying to process it. Some days it doesn’t feel real, and other days the weight of it shows up in unexpected ways. One of the places I’ve noticed it the most is in my reading life.

Reading has always been something that grounds me. It’s my escape, my comfort, and honestly a big part of how I make sense of the world. But grief has changed that for me, at least for right now.

My reading has slowed down a lot.

I’ve picked up books and put them right back down. My attention wanders. Sometimes my brain just doesn’t want to work that hard. The kind of deep focus I usually have when reading epic fantasy or more complex stories just isn’t there.

Right now I’m reading things that don’t require a lot of concentration or brain power.

For me, that has been romance.

Now before anyone gets defensive, I’m not knocking romance readers at all. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with loving romance. But for me personally, the tropes tend to be simple and predictable. And oddly enough, that predictability has been helpful while grieving.

When everything in real life feels uncertain and heavy, predictable stories feel safe.

You know what you’re getting.

You know things will work out.

You know there will be some kind of emotional resolution at the end.

And when your brain is tired from processing loss, that kind of reading can feel like a soft place to land.

I have also been slowly reading a book about grief called I Wasn’t Ready to Say Goodbye by Pamela D. Blair and Brook Noel. It focuses on sudden loss, which is exactly what my family is going through right now. I can’t read a lot of it at once, but reading a few pages at a time has been helpful. Sometimes it just helps to know that what you’re feeling is normal.

Still, I won’t lie. I feel a little off balance.

Reading is usually such a big part of who I am and how I move through life. So when my reading rhythm changes, it makes me feel like something is out of alignment. But I’m also trying to give myself grace.

Grief doesn’t follow a schedule.

It doesn’t care about reading goals, TBR lists, or how many books you normally finish in a month.

Right now I’m just taking my time and figuring out what this new normal looks like without my Aunt Linda.

Some days that might mean reading a few chapters of a romance novel.

Some days it might mean not reading at all.

And that’s okay.

Books will always be there when my mind and heart are ready for them again.

For now, I’m just letting reading meet me where I am.

If you’ve experienced grief, did it affect your reading habits? Did you stop reading for a while or turn to comfort books?