My Dearest Grieving One,
If you’re here, I want you to know that you are not alone.
Even if you feel you are alone now or fear that you will be alone in the future, I am here to tell you that you are surrounded by love, kindness, and grace.
I know your world must be feeling like it has crashed like a thousand tower packs of cards. Life is fragile…but beautiful.
Like a pack of cards, you can always gather the fallen pieces of the tower and rebuild again.
I pray you will look at the past kindly, and let it go like a beautiful chapter that has come to a close. You did well and even though we might not know each other’s stories, I’m here to tell you that I’m so proud of you.
It’s time to create more beautiful chapters that will eventually come to a close someday too. You might feel like life is meaningless now.
I hear you and I get you.
You are not alone in this.
I am with you all the way.
And so are so many other people who’re fighting battles we often know nothing of.
I am not going to tell you what to do and not do.
I am not going to tell you to be strong and practical when you just want to be left to mourn without a care.
I am not going to tell you anything.
I am here to sit with you, and lend you an ear and shoulder.
It might surprise you that there is still so much goodness left in this world. I realised it when I lost my spouse. I can never repay the kindness and goodness of people (even strangers) across faiths, who held a warm space for me in the cold night.
Look around. If you observe closely, you’ll find good people in sight too. Reach out if you feel inclined. You don’t need to wait for others to make that first move. You can be the one reaching out to people with the olive branch.
I know what grief feels like. Our griefs might be unique and our way of coping might be different.
If you want to chase joy amid sorrow, you don’t need to seek anyone’s permission for doing so. If putting on a bright red lipstick makes you feel alive instead of a live corpse, what’s stopping you now?
Release that anger and pain trapped in your body. Swear if you feel like it. Punch a pillow if you must. Scream into the wilderness. Don’t hold anything negative inside your body, mind, and soul. Let it all out.
You are allowed to be you. Imperfect and messy. Cry as much as much as your heart desires. And no, you’re not weak. You’re human.
It’s okay to laugh out loud too when you find something funny. Your late loved one would join in your laughter too, and be relieved you’ve not lost your sparkle. And no, you’re not heartless for laughing amid tears.
You’re not selfish for closing the chapter and moving forward with life. The past will always be an integral part of you.
The past carries you. You carry the present. God carries the future.
But before you carry your cross in the present, rest awhile by the stream if that’s what you want. Sleep on the bank shore, and let your feet kiss the grass. Feel the warmth of sunrays on your body, and let the sound of the water stream echo in your ears while you lie down.
Run across the valley, if that’s what it’ll take to literally move forward in life. Lift up a few bricks in your journey, and throw them away when you’re done.
I am here to tell you that it’s not selfish to pursue things that make you happy in times of grief.
I refuse to live my colour in black and white. I refuse to control my laughter just because I’m grieving. I refuse to accept society’s version of what a grieving person should and should not be.
You don’t cease to be you in the event of loss, or death. What the world sees as tragedy, God sees as blessing.
You’ve always been a blessing. For your late loved one and your living ones. And the world around you.
Be you in the best possible way. Always.
I need you. We need you. The world needs you.
Let not the storms dim your shine. Like the sun that wakes up everyday and does its thing, may you rise above the night every day and shine gloriously.
Unapologetically.
Fearlessly.
Joyously.
Yours lovingly,
Tina
This post is a part of Blogchatter A2Z Challenge 2026.
