Grief Is a Form of Love

Grief doesn’t mean something’s wrong. It means something mattered. It means someone mattered.

We don’t grieve what we didn’t love. We don’t ache for what didn’t touch us. So when the ache comes,  let it come.

Grief is not the enemy. It’s the echo. Of connection. Of presence. Of being alive enough to feel the loss.

We try to outrun it. Numb it. Fix it. But grief isn’t a problem. It’s a companion.

It walks beside you. Not to hurt you,  but to honor what was.

You’re not broken for feeling this. You’re not weak for weeping. You’re not behind for taking time.

Grief is holy ground. Grief is the shape love takes when what we love is gone.

It comes in waves. It doesn’t ask permission. It doesn’t care about timing.

It just arrives. And asks you to be honest.

Sit with it. Breathe with it. Let it move through you without rushing to feel better.

Grief softens what ego hardens. It humbles. It opens. It teaches you to hold what cannot be held.

Let it crack you. Let it show you what matters. Let it remind you how deeply you care.

This is not the opposite of love. This is love continuing. This is love without a body to hold.

You don’t have to get over it. You don’t have to move on. You just have to move with it.

Let grief be your teacher. Let it be sacred. Let it be part of the path.