For When It Hurts Too Much

Today caught me off guard.

I thought I was doing okay, or at least okay-ish, but grief has a way of sneaking up, of knocking the breath out of you when you least expect it. I’m still trying to be a parent, a professional, a person with dreams… while learning how to live in a world that my grandpa no longer exists in. It’s heavy. It’s confusing. And it hurts more than I can put into words.

But maybe writing them down anyway will help someone else feel less alone, including me.

I wrote this a couple of days before my Grandpa passed:

I don’t know how to do this, but I’m here.

I don’t have all the right words, but I have love and maybe that’s enough.

Every breath I take beside you is a promise:

that you are not alone.

That someone remembers your stories,

your laugh, your quiet strength.

That someone learned what love looks like because of you.

If this is a goodbye, let it be wrapped in peace.

If this is a moment between breaths, let it be soft.

And if this is love, and I know it is,

then let it carry us both,

even when my heart feels like it’s breaking.

I will hold your hand until the light shifts.

I will carry your love long after the world is quiet.

And when I’m scared, I’ll remember that you are part of me

and that means I am never truly without you.

Even now, the world feels wrong without you in it.

I keep turning corners expecting you to be there. A smile, a story, a familiar comfort.

But instead, I find the echo of love you planted everywhere.

Grief has a way of folding time,

moments collapse into memories,

and suddenly you’re here and gone

in the same breath.

I wasn’t ready.

I don’t think I ever could have been.

But the love you gave me didn’t leave with you.

It’s stitched into my days,

my choices,

my heart.

So I’ll keep going, not because it’s easy,

but because you taught me

how to love fiercely,

how to be brave

even when I’m trembling.

There will be days when I fall apart.

Days like today.

But I will rise again,

carrying you forward with me.

You are still here. In every breath I take,

every laugh that escapes

when I least expect it,

every moment I choose love over fear.

I miss you.

I love you.

And even now,

you are part of me.

Always.

To anyone reading this, and navigating the loss of a loved one, just know this. You're doing the best you can through the hardest thing. And that’s a kind of strength your loved one would be so proud of.