I didn’t invite you.
You arrived unbidden, a shadowed intruder in the brightest corner of my life,
a storm I could not outrun.
You consumed me at first, overwhelming and relentless,
until you wrapped around me, wove into me,
and dismantled everything I thought I was.
But grief, you did not stop there.
You worked with me, tearing apart the old threads,
reweaving them into something new.
You transformed me,
metamorphosized me into a creature I never imagined I could be.
Now you are part of me—
woven into the fiber of my being,
a quiet, powerful presence
that makes me so much more than I would have been without you.
Still, I would trade every gift you brought
for the chance to hold my boy again.
Yet, I honor you for what you’ve made of me.
You’ve taught me to love with a full, fearless heart,
to set unapologetic boundaries,
and to embrace the heartbreak that comes with love,
because I now know it is always worth it.
You stripped away the trivial—
worries of wrinkles, sags, small talk, petty worries—
and left me with the miracle of the present moment,
reminding me that each breath is a gift
and life can change in an instant.
You led me to spirit,
because where else could I turn?
And in that surrender,
I found courage, strength, and power
I never knew I possessed.
I have walked through the fire,
and I am unbreakable.
There is nothing I cannot survive,
no darkness I cannot transform into light.
Grief, you are not a season to pass,
a phase to outlast,
or a chapter that ends when the bereavement leave expires.
You linger,
not to weaken me,
but to deepen me.
If you are still carrying grief six months,
a year,
five years later,
know this: it is normal.
You are not broken,
you are becoming.
Grief has taught me that my energy now flows differently—
it will no longer tolerate incongruence.
It has reshaped me,
demanding that I live authentically,
aligning heart and soul with every step I take.