Moving Through Grief

Before you read this, I want you to know: this is how I am personally coping with my loss.
We all experience grief differently. There is no right or wrong way to process it. I simply want to share my experience, the emotions that surfaced, and what I’ve realized through losing people who meant a lot to me.

The biggest realization I’ve had about loss is that life is short.
And because life is short, why should I be afraid to express myself or try new, uncomfortable things? I don’t know how long I’ll be alive. None of us do. The strange thing is that even though we all know we won’t be here forever, so many of us live in fear — when instead, we could let go of that fear and just be ourselves.

I’ve lost people in my life, but if they didn’t have an impact on me, I didn’t feel a strong attachment — even if they were family.
But when someone did have an impact — no matter who they were — I felt it deeply. I felt the sadness of their absence, the memories we shared, and the uniqueness of who they were. I admired them — for their strength, their boldness, their honest energy.
Most of the people I felt close to — even if we were physically far apart — had that kind of presence.

There were times I had dreams where I just knew someone I cared about was going to leave.
I would wake up with a heavy feeling — before anything had even happened.
One dream in particular stayed with me. It was about my auntie. In the dream, I saw a graveyard on one side and a celebration — like a wedding — on the other. It was so vivid that when I woke up that night, I just knew intuitively that it meant she would be leaving soon.

That same day, I saw a picture or a clock — I can’t remember exactly — but there’s an old superstition that says when a clock or picture breaks, it’s a warning that someone will pass away.
To me, it felt like a sign.
I believe the ancestors showed it to prepare not just me, but also my mom — because that auntie was like a mother to her. And at the same time, it helped me prepare for what was coming.

The way I’ve learned to cope with loss is by lighting a candle for the person and talking to them out loud.
Just having a quiet moment with them.
I believe they can hear us. That belief comforts me. I believe that even though they are gone physically, they are still around spiritually.
When I speak out loud, I say the things I didn’t get to say. I wish them peace. I want them to rest — I don’t want them to feel stuck or unsettled.

Another thing that helps me is resolving things before people leave.
I don’t hold grudges.
I think it’s important to say whatever you need to say while you still can, so you don’t carry regrets. So your own heart and soul can be at peace too.

It gets easier to move through the pain of loss when you don’t hold anything in — when you forgive, when you allow yourself to feel sad.

Grief doesn’t just disappear.
Even months or years later, I still think of the people I’ve lost. Sometimes tears come unexpectedly. But now, alongside the sadness, there’s also gratitude.
I smile at the memories.
I try to turn the grief into something a little lighter.
I grieve them, but I also try to do something fun, something that makes me feel alive — because I believe that’s what they would want. They would want us to live. To be present. To enjoy this life while we have it.

If you’re going through a loss, I want to say: it does get easier with time.
There’s still meaning in living.
When we lose someone, it can feel like there’s no purpose left — but if you’re still here, then you still have a purpose.
And the people who left?
They’re still with you.
In their own way, they’re never far.