From the series: “Grief in Real Time: A Caregiver’s Journey Through Sudden Loss”
The emergency room nurse called at 4:08 a.m. My father-in-law had passed away unexpectedly while on vacation in Montana. Within hours, we were in motion—booking flights, packing bags, calling family, holding each other upright.
There’s no dress rehearsal for this kind of moment.
You go from sleep to survival mode in seconds. The brain fog of grief wraps around you before you even zip your suitcase. And somehow, you still have to make decisions, find your ID, call the airline, and show up at the airport. All while your heart is breaking.
This was the beginning of our journey into emergency grief travel—and it taught me more than I expected.
What to Pack When You’re Numb
When you’re packing while in shock, it’s easy to forget even the basics. I stood in front of my closet for what felt like a year, staring at clothes and wondering how to dress for heartbreak.
Here’s what helped me get out the door:
- Comfortable layers – Travel is unpredictable, and so are your emotions. Loose, soft fabrics were a kindness to my body when my mind wasn’t functioning well.
- Snacks and water – It’s easy to forget to eat when you’re grieving, but low blood sugar and dehydration make the emotional fog worse. I couldn’t think this through and was grateful to find my daughter had
packed protein bars, trail mix, and water jugs that were TSA approved to refill on the journey. - Medication – If you or your loved ones take daily medications, set an alarm or have someone double-check your bag. In grief, the most obvious things are the easiest to miss.
- Essential documents – IDs, medical info (if needed).
- A small comfort item – I brought a journal and a calming essential oil roller. They became grounding tools during long airport waits and sleepless hotel nights. During our first layover I’d wished I’d brought a throw blanket.
Traveling with Dignity in a Disoriented Body
Grief affects the nervous system. You may feel shaky, nauseous, cold, or disconnected from your surroundings. For those traveling with a disability or assisting someone with one, the chaos of airports and urgent travel can feel even more overwhelming.
These tips made a difference for us:
- Notify the airline early – We requested wheelchair assistance at each airport to make transitions easier for me. This also gave us access to shorter security lines and a bit more support from airport staff.
- Build in extra time – Everything takes longer when you’re processing loss. We gave ourselves an extra 30–60 minutes beyond the recommended arrival times.
- Use the restroom and rest whenever you can – These might sound simple, but your body goes into a kind of emergency autopilot. Gentle reminders like “breathe, hydrate, rest” became our internal rhythm.
Grounding Yourself in the Movement
Even while rushing to get there, I had to find tiny ways to stay present. Not to ignore the grief, but to let it move through me rather than run me over.
Here’s what helped:
- A journal and pen – I actually thought to pack this but forgot it and relied on the note pad on my Android phone. I didn’t write profound reflections, just little things: a memory, a prayer, a single word like “stillness.”
I also created a lot of to do lists for each step of the day coordinating multiple people’s tasks. The act of writing gave my grief a place to land. - A calming playlist – Music may hold some together during airport layovers. Songs that reminded of peace, or just brought gentle background noise, to ensure breathing more deeply.
- Supportive texts and phone calls – One friend simply texted, “I’m breathing with you.” That meant more than I can explain. I chose to put a simple message on social media, “Prayers needed, text if you want more information.” This put the responsibility on others to choose if they wanted to reach out rather than me trying to figure out how I needed to reach out to. I was grateful that I did this, not only did it provide the means of telling people I wouldn’t have thought to reach out to but I felt more support by seeing how many reached out to me and then continued to check in on me for at least the first week.
Educational Note: Traveling in Grief with Sensory or Physical Considerations
Grief can intensify sensory sensitivity—lights feel brighter, noises louder, smells stronger. If you or your loved one is neurodivergent, disabled, or prone to sensory overload, consider:
- Noise-canceling headphones or earplugs
- Sunglasses or a brimmed hat indoors
- A pre-printed card that explains your sensory or emotional needs for TSA or airline staff (ex: “I am traveling while grieving and may need extra time or space”)
If you’re traveling with someone who has cognitive decline or dementia, rehearse (even briefly) what’s coming next. Use visuals, simple phrases, and hold hands when possible. Airports are disorienting even on a good day.
You Are Not Failing—You Are Grieving
Maybe the most important thing I can share is this: moving through an airport while grieving is not just a logistical task—it’s an act of love. It’s okay to cry in public. It’s okay to forget things. It’s okay to feel like a shell of yourself.
You are not broken. You are in mourning. And still, you’re showing up.
In the next part of this series, I’ll share the experience of telling others the news—what it was like to support my mother-in-law, make the hard calls, and find the words when there are none.
Until then, be gentle with yourself. The journey through grief is not linear—and neither is the flight path to healing.
