Dear Grief,

It’s been some years since you came into my life. I don’t remember exactly when you first appeared. Was it the time I sobbed uncontrollably on the bus ride home from work? Was it during the sleepless nights when your coldness cut to the core of my being? I think that’s why I struggled so much with you at the beginning. I couldn’t pinpoint a specific event or name a tangible loss tied to your visits. I only knew the rawness and vulnerability you made me feel. It unsettled me for a season.

Over time, through therapy and patience, I began to see that you weren’t a cold, monstrous problem to be solved. You were a part of me that needed to be seen, heard, and felt. With this small inner shift, I learnt to host you in the living room of my mind. When you knocked, I welcomed you into my inner space. By the fireplace of my thoughts, with two cups of hot tea, we would sit together.

When I stopped fighting you, you found your voice.

You told me how you mourned the family life you longed for but never had. You mourned your father’s absence in your formative years. You mourned the carefree girl who had to grow up too quickly in the wake of your parents’ separation and divorce. You mourned the loss of agency when your mind unravelled in young adulthood. You mourned the hopes and dreams that never came to pass.

It turns out you were carrying ambiguous loss—a grief not often acknowledged or validated because it isn’t marked by the physical loss of a loved one. You were grieving things that were never fully yours, yet whose absence was deeply felt.

I’ve come to see that you were reshaping me as I processed these intangible losses. The hollowing you carved within me—sharp and cold as it felt—unexpectedly created a depth and capacity to hold joy. When you were seen, heard, and felt, you would leave as quietly as you came.

In the clarity that followed, I found I could be more fully present with my family, even as we loved one another imperfectly. I found opportunities to get to know my father as an adult; he shifted from a stranger to someone more familiar. I made space to reconnect with the carefree girl within me through deep therapeutic work. I gave her the name “Joyce” to honour her joyful nature. I found ways to channel my burden into work within a fledgling nonprofit for those struggling with mental health. Most of all, I learnt to dream and hope again in midlife, despite the losses of my younger years.

Today, there is joy mingled with sorrow. I have grown in my capacity to hold both at once. I feel more alive—and more whole.

Most of all, you have given me the ability to hold space for the complexity of others’ emotions, both in the therapy room and in the community. I’ve learnt to season my insights with compassion.

Thank you, Grief, for the lessons you have taught me, so patiently. I am grateful.

Until we meet again,

Florence

Through counselling, teaching, and community work, Florence helps others rediscover hope and agency.

Read more of our Tapestry Stories here

Image by Philip Holden