Today is World Logic Day. A celebration of reason, structured thinking, and rational problem-solving.

Sadly, grief doesn't care about logic.

When people experience loss, well-meaning friends and colleagues often say "At least he didn't suffer" or "You're young, you'll meet someone else" or "Everything happens for a reason."

Logical statements. Meant to help.

Actually, they make everything worse.

Most of us have never been taught what to say when someone we care about is dealing with loss. We panic. We reach for logic. We try to fix the unfixable with reason.

This World Logic Day, let's talk about why grief refuses to be logical, and what actually helps when someone's world has fallen apart.

Why We Default to Logic When Someone's Grieving

Our brains hate uncertainty. When someone we care about is in pain, we rush to find solutions.

Logic feels safe. It creates distance from the messy, uncomfortable reality of grief.

Common "logical" responses include:

• "Everything happens for a reason"

• "At least they lived a long life"

• "Time heals all wounds"

• "They're in a better place now"

• "You should be grateful for the time you had"

These statements make logical sense. They're attempts to find meaning, silver linings, perspective.

But grief isn't a logic puzzle to solve. It's an emotional tsunami that reshapes everything.

When we offer logic to someone grieving, we're essentially saying: "Your pain makes me uncomfortable. Here's a rational framework so we can both feel better."

The person grieving doesn't need us to feel better. They need us to sit with them in the rubble.

The Problem with Logical Comfort

Feelings of grief and loss can be produced by over 40 different life events. Death, yes. But also divorce, job loss, illness diagnosis, retirement, empty nest, miscarriage, pet loss, friendship breakdowns, business failure.

Each loss is unique. Each person's relationship to that loss is unique.

Logic tries to universalise. Grief demands specificity.

After my mum died, everyone told me I should be strong. That I needed to look after my siblings. Logically, they were right. Emotionally, I was drowning."

Unresolved grief isn't just about the obvious loss. It's about identity, future plans, daily routines, the small moments nobody else sees.

No logical statement can touch that pain.

What Grief Actually Needs

Unresolved grief needs three things logic can't provide:

Permission to feel whatever comes up. Sadness, yes. But also anger, guilt, regret, relief, even moments of joy. All of it is normal. None of it follows a neat emotional timeline.

Presence without fixing. The most powerful thing you can offer someone grieving is your willingness to sit with them without trying to make it better. Sometimes the right response is silence.

Acknowledgment that this is hard. Not "it could be worse" or "look on the bright side." Just: "This is really hard."

As Ravi shared after losing his mother: "The best thing anyone said was 'That sounds incredibly difficult.' That's it. They didn't try to fix it. They just saw my pain."

Simple. True. Emotionally honest.

What to Say Instead of Logic

When someone you care about is grieving, try these responses:

Acknowledge their reality:

• "I'm so sorry this happened"

• "This is awful"

• "I can't imagine how hard this must be"

Create space for their emotions:

• "It's okay to cry"

• "All of your feelings are normal"

• "You don't have to be strong right now"

Offer specific, practical help:

• "I'm going to Tesco on Tuesday. What can I pick up for you?"

• "I've made too much dinner. Can I drop some round?"

• "I'm free Saturday morning if you need help with anything"

Ask the magic question:

"What would be most helpful right now?"

This simple question gives them control. It stops you guessing. It acknowledges that you don't have all the answers.

Because you don't. And that's okay.

When Your Own Grief Defies Logic

Perhaps you're reading this because you're the one grieving.

Perhaps you're frustrated with yourself because "logically, you should be over it by now." Or because you're grieving something that doesn't seem big enough to warrant this level of pain.

Your grief is valid. Full stop.

Vanessa came to work with me while struggling with her mother's dementia. She said: "I didn't appreciate just how much it was affecting me. My energy got so low that I realised I really needed help."

She was grieving the loss of her mother as she knew her. The conversations they'd never have again. The future she'd imagined.

Logic said one thing. Her heart said another.

Both were true.

Grief isn't logical. It doesn't follow rules. It doesn't care about timelines or what "should" feel manageable.

If you're struggling with grief that won't fit into neat logical boxes, you're not broken. You're human.

Why Processing Grief Is the Logical Choice

Here's the truth: unresolved grief doesn't disappear. It shows up as exhaustion, brain fog, relationship struggles, physical symptoms, feeling stuck.

Processing grief properly is actually the most logical thing you can do for your wellbeing.

Not because grief itself is logical. But because ignoring it costs you more in the long run.

You can't think your way through grief. You have to feel your way through it. With support, with tools, with someone who understands the journey.

What to Do Next

This World Logic Day, let's agree: logic has its place. Just not in the middle of someone's grief.

If you're supporting someone dealing with loss:

Download my free guide 5 Things Never to Say to Someone Grieving (Plus What Actually Helps). You'll get specific scripts for difficult moments, so you never freeze up again.

If you're the one struggling with grief:

Take the Grief Assessment Quiz to understand how unresolved loss might be affecting your energy, focus, and wellbeing. You'll get immediate insights plus a personalised report.

After the assessment, you can book a free discovery call. We'll explore whether you're dealing with unresolved grief, what's keeping you stuck, and whether the Handling Grief Programme might help you move forward.

You don't have to carry this alone. You don't have to logic your way through pain.

You just have to take the first step.