There is no timeline. If someone tells you grief takes a year, or six weeks, or any number, they are describing their own comfort, not your loss. Grief is not a wound that closes on a schedule.
What people who are further along tend to say is not that the grief got smaller, but that they grew larger around it. The loss stays roughly the size it always was. Your life slowly becomes a bigger thing that holds it, so that more and more of your days are not only about the absence. The ache doesn’t leave on a date. It just stops being the only thing in the room.
It also won’t be a straight line, and the surprise of that catches a lot of people. Weeks can pass and you think you are steadier, and then the food bowl is still in the cupboard, or it’s the hour you used to walk them, or you reach for the spot on the bed in your sleep, and it lands like the first day. Those ambushes are not backsliding. They are just the shape grief actually has.
"Getting over it" is the wrong target, and chasing it tends to make people feel like they are failing. You do not get over a love. You learn, without ever quite deciding to, how to carry it differently. There is no day you are supposed to be done.