
This Mindful Moment On Grief and the Love That Lives Beneath It
- jsakunze

- 17 minutes ago
- 2 min read
There are moments in life when the world grows quiet in a way we never asked for.
A chair sits empty.
A voice goes silent.
A season ends without our permission.
And even when we knew it was coming
or thought we were ready
or had time to prepare
the body still whispers
No. Not this. Not now. Not them.
Grief arrives like weather.
Sometimes it storms in with no warning.
Sometimes it moves slowly, gathering at the edge of the sky for months or years.
And sometimes it returns long after we thought we had learned its shape.
But however it comes, it lands in the same tender place inside of us —
the place where love lives.
Because grief is the echo of love that has nowhere to go.
It is the tug at the chest reminding us that something mattered deeply.
It is the ache that says
I belonged to something
and
something belonged to me.
We are never truly prepared for how much it hurts.
Loss always asks more of us than we think we can give.
It asks us to keep breathing when the air feels heavy.
It asks us to keep waking when the mornings feel hollow.
It asks us to stay soft when everything in us feels broken.
So we practice.
We acknowledge what we feel instead of pushing it away.
We name the sadness, the anger, the confusion, the longing.
We let ourselves be human in the only way humans know how —
by allowing the heart its full range.
And slowly, quietly, grief becomes a companion rather than an intruder.
Not something to fix.
Not something to get over.
But something to sit beside.
Something to breathe with.
Something that teaches us how to carry love differently.
Let this be your reminder:
You deserve gentleness in this season.
You deserve rest.
You deserve support.
You deserve to be held by others and by yourself.
Grief is not a sign that you are weak.
It is a sign that you have loved.
Ways to Care for Yourself in Grief
Sit with a cup of tea and place your hand on your heart. Whisper, I’m here with you.
Take a slow walk outside and let nature hold some of what you carry.
Light a candle for the person or the season you’re grieving.
Write a letter to what was lost — even if no one will ever read it.
Create a small ritual each day to honor your grief, even if it lasts only one minute.
Reach out to someone who knows how to listen without fixing.
Let yourself cry when the tears come.
Feed your body something warm and grounding.
Rest more than you think you should.
Give yourself permission to not be “okay” right now.
Seek community or support when the weight is too much to hold alone.







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