Understanding My Journey with Grief
The tenth anniversary of my husband’s death has arrived, and I find myself engulfed in a whirlwind of emotions. Some days, it feels as though a decade has passed, while other moments grip me with the raw intensity of yesterday. As a woman who has become intimately acquainted with grief, I understand that loss is not just a compilation of sad moments but a testament to resilience.
Transforming Pain into Purpose
Every story I write is born from the truth of loss, be it the quiet ache of losing my husband, the devastating impact of violence on my brother, or the haunting absence of a father lost to addiction. My purpose is to transform these hurtful experiences into a narrative of healing and hope. Grief has awakened a newfound strength, rekindling my passion for life and rewriting my story.
Showing Up for My Life
For too long, I waited for the “perfect time” to embrace life. I kept telling myself that clarity would come later, that courage would arrive when things finally settled. Instead, I let fear of the unknown keep me tucked inside routines that felt safe but slowly dimmed my spirit. Looking back, I can see that I wasn’t truly living. I was simply moving through the days, surviving rather than experiencing the fullness of my own existence. It was a quiet kind of drifting, the kind you don’t notice until something shakes you awake.
Grief was the first thing that shook me. Losing someone you love rearranges your understanding of time. It strips away the illusion that life is something we can save for later. It teaches you, painfully and honestly, that life after loss is fragile, unpredictable, and impossibly precious. I thought that lesson alone would be enough to change me. But life had more to say.
Recently, I faced a health issue. Suddenly, I was sitting in waiting rooms with nothing but the hum of machines and the weight of uncertainty pressing against my chest. I was forced to confront my own mortality in a way I never had before. My mind went straight to my children—children who have already lost their dad. The thought of them facing another loss was almost unbearable. In that moment, the question wasn’t “What if something is wrong?” It was “What have I been doing with the time I do have?”
That experience cracked something open in me. It made everything painfully clear: I could no longer afford to postpone my life. The clock is always ticking, whether we acknowledge it or not. And with that realization came a shift. It was no longer enough to wonder “what if?” or to dream quietly in the background of my own life. It was time to act, to step toward the things that stir my heart, even if my hands tremble as I do it.
What I’ve learned is that transformation doesn’t begin with grand gestures. It begins with one small, powerful choice: showing up with love. Love for myself, for my healing, for the people whose paths I cross. Love softens fear. Love steadies uncertainty. Love opens the door to possibility. This is what healing after grief looks like, not perfection, not certainty, but presence.
This moment, right now, is the perfect time to begin again. Not because everything is settled or clear, but because I finally understand that waiting will not save me. Living will. And living fully after loss means choosing to show up; with tenderness, with courage, with love, one imperfect step at a time. I don’t know what the next ten years has in store for my family, but I plan to show up every day with compassion, courage, and hope.
What dream have you been postponing that deserves a chance to live?
How can you show up for yourself in a way you never have before?
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