I Am Grateful for My Grief

Because the very thing that broke me… is the reason I’m still here.

I am grateful for my grief.

That’s not something most people expect to hear… but it’s the truth.

There was a time in my life when the pain of this world felt unbearable. I didn’t think I could carry it. I didn’t think I was strong enough to stay.

At 18, at 28, at 38… I tried to leave. I just wanted peace. I just wanted the pain to stop.

I became very good at hiding it—smiling on the outside while quietly unraveling within. And there is nothing more exhausting than pretending you’re okay when you’re not.

Then in 2020, when I was 50; everything changed.

The man I loved passed away tragically, and in a single moment, the life I knew disappeared. My relationship, my home, my lifestyle, my business, my sense of security… gone.

But none of that compared to losing him.

I didn’t want to be here anymore. I didn’t want to face a lifetime of missing him. I didn’t want to do the work that grief demands.

I just wanted to be where he was.

But grief had other plans.

Grief cracked me open in a way nothing else ever had. It brought me face-to-face with a depth of pain I could no longer hide from.

And somehow… within that pain, there was clarity.

Because as much as I was hurting, I realized something:

There was no way I could leave this world and pass this kind of pain onto my son… or the people who love me.

I couldn’t do that to them.

And in that moment, grief didn’t just break me… it saved me.

It gave me perspective. It gave me empathy. It gave me a reason to stay.

I will never “move on.” That kind of love doesn’t disappear.

But I have learned to move forward.

And now—even on the hard days… especially on the hard days…

I am grateful for my grief.

Because it taught me how to live.