Edited on March 30th, 2025:

Welcome lovelies and beau’s! Have you ever felt that one moment could change your entire world? I did—one day, my life shifted in ways I never imagined, leaving me grappling with loss, pain, and a newfound understanding of what it means to truly heal. In this post, I invite you to join me on a journey through grief and resilience, where we learn that even in our darkest moments, compassion and kindness can light the way forward. Let’s explore how embracing our vulnerabilities can lead to deeper connections and lasting healing.

On Sunday, March 14th, 2010, everything I knew about my life shifted in a matter of seconds. I was watching a Chicago Cubs pre-season game in my bedroom when my mom walked in and told me she had something important to share. I don’t remember much about the following moments, only that nothing could have prepared me for the heartbreaking news that would change everything.

At the time, I was 15. I was in high school, a Sophomore living what I thought was a normal life. I was the youngest of five siblings. I was involved in band, sports, and Student Government. I enjoyed the simple things—hanging out with friends, going for runs, and listening to music. Life felt pretty good, or so I thought.

That was until the devastating news came: my brother had passed away. The shock and disbelief were overwhelming. It felt unreal. It wasn’t something I could have ever prepared myself for.

Looking back, there’s one moment that haunts me. A few months before that tragic day, my brother had visited. At the time, I had no idea how fleeting life could be, how precious every moment truly is. On the day he came to visit, I was out with friends, busy with plans I had made before. I had no clue that it would be the last time I would see him. If only I could have known. If only I could have changed that day.

The day after receiving the news, I was at track practice. It felt surreal. I remember feeling numb, not really processing what had happened. I wasn’t my usual self. I wasn’t sad, but I also wasn’t okay. Practice felt like a distraction, a way to stay busy. As I ran, I saw my mom’s car pull up, and I watched her walk toward my coach, her body language saying more than words could.

Tragedy is something that doesn’t happen every day. But on March 14th, 2010, my world was turned upside down. My brother was gone, and my life would never be the same again. The details of what happened are difficult to relive, but I learned that day that life can change in an instant, and that’s something you can never take for granted.

I don’t know how much time passed after my brother’s death, but one day, I showed up to my Chemistry class without my gym shoes. I had forgotten them, and my teacher, who I didn’t know very well at the time, told me I would have to wait outside in the hallway since I couldn’t participate in the lab without them.

As soon as I stepped into the hallway, I burst into tears. I mean, full-on sobbing, unable to stop. It was as though all the emotions I had been holding back came crashing down all at once. I had tried so hard to push everything aside and act like things were okay, but in that moment, it all became too much. My teacher and friends must have known something else was wrong. They had to have known it wasn’t just about forgetting gym shoes.

Up until then, I had only shared the news of my brother’s passing with a couple of my closest friends. Most of my classmates and friends had no idea what I was going through. And to make matters worse, just a week before my breakdown, a similar tragedy had struck a fellow student at school. So, when I sat there in the hallway, overwhelmed with grief, one of my friends sat down beside me and gently comforted me. That’s when I finally opened up to her. It felt like a release, like finally allowing someone to see the weight I was carrying. Shortly after, my teacher sent me to the school counselor. I shared my story, and she reached out to my other teachers, letting them know what had happened. From there, it was a blur of trying to navigate the grief while managing everything else in my life.

The days after that were filled with ups and downs. Some days, I was able to talk about my brother without crying, and it felt like I could keep going. But other days, even the smallest thing would trigger an emotional wave, and I’d find myself holding back tears, hoping no one would notice. Sometimes, when talking to friends about it, I’d be too open and raw. Other times, I’d completely distract myself from my emotions, pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t. It was like being on an emotional rollercoaster, and I didn’t know where the ride would take me.

And you know what? That’s okay. Grief isn’t linear. It doesn’t look the same for everyone, and it certainly doesn’t follow a timetable. There’s no rulebook, no right or wrong way to handle it. It’s messy, unpredictable, and uniquely personal. If you’re going through grief right now, I want you to know that it’s okay to take your time. There’s no rush to “get over it.” Your feelings are valid, no matter how they come and go, no matter how strange or uncomfortable they may feel at times.

Please, if someone tells you to “just get over it” or “it’s not that bad,” don’t listen to them. Those words are unhelpful and often come from a place of not understanding. Grief is your own journey, and only you get to decide what that looks like. Be gentle with yourself. Allow yourself to feel, to rest, to cry, and to heal at your own pace.

Take care of yourself in ways that feel comforting. Indulge in your favorite foods, desserts, or hobbies. Spend time with people who make you feel safe and supported. Seek therapy if that feels like the right step. Remember, you don’t have to do this alone. There are people who care, and if you ever feel like you need someone to talk to, I’m here for you. Grief can feel like an isolating experience, but please know that you are not alone in it. You are not alone in your journey, and your feelings are so very real.

So, be kind to yourself, because you deserve it.

As I continued my journey through grief, I knew that I couldn’t go through it alone. I reached out to those closest to me, seeking advice, hoping their experiences could offer some insight or comfort. Each of their perspectives helped me in different ways, reminding me that there’s no single path through grief and that everyone’s journey is unique.

Nightray shared with me how, after losing both grandparents and hearing about a friend’s tragic passing, they focused on work to stay grounded. “I focused on my work and feeling like I can get stuff done,” they said. “If I could keep myself on the positives and think of the better times, I was able to pull through and get stronger as well.” This advice resonated with me because, at times, staying busy helped me regain some sense of control over my life. But it also made me realize that it's okay to not always have it together. It’s okay to focus on small moments of joy as a way to carry on.

Joseph's advice was focused on the importance of support systems. “Surround yourself with people that care about you and love you,” he told me. “Having a foundation that cannot be moved in your life can help bring peace. Whether that’s faith, a cause greater than yourself, or something else, it’s important to have something to hold onto.” This really stuck with me, reminding me that we are not meant to go through life’s toughest moments alone. The people who love you can be anchors when everything else feels chaotic, and finding something deeper—whether it’s your faith, your passions, or your purpose—can bring stability when life feels like it’s been shaken to its core.

Lili, on the other hand, gave me insight into the individual nature of grief. “Do what works best for you,” she said. “Some people like to remember the good memories, while others need time to process. If someone wants to help someone else grieving, it helps just to listen and let them know you’re there for them.” This advice helped me understand that there is no right or wrong way to grieve. We each process loss differently, and it’s essential to honor how we feel without judgment. Sometimes, I needed to talk about my brother, while other times, I just needed someone to sit with me in silence. Being open to what I needed each day, without pressure, helped me move through the grief at my own pace.

Anonymous, a person who had also experienced significant loss, emphasized the importance of allowing oneself to grieve fully. “Let yourself feel the sadness,” they shared. “Don’t be afraid to cry and let it out. It’s a healthy part of the grieving process. Lean on your family and friends for support.” This was an important reminder for me. Sometimes, I tried to suppress my emotions, thinking I had to be strong. But I realized that strength doesn’t mean avoiding feelings—it means embracing them and giving myself the space to experience my grief.

Lastly, another person shared the powerful idea that life moves forward, even when we don’t feel ready. “It’s okay to hurt,” they said. “It’s okay to cry. But also remember that the time you had with that person was a blessing, and life continues. Grief is a journey, but it doesn’t define you.”

Through each of these pieces of advice, I learned that grief is not something we “get over.” It’s not a problem that can be solved, but rather something we learn to live with. The love we’ve experienced, the memories we carry, and the support we find—whether in others or within ourselves—become part of our story, even as life moves forward.

As for something that truly helped me, it was not only finding a way to keep my brother’s memory alive but also embracing the power of compassion and understanding toward others. Grief has a way of pulling us inward, making us feel as though we are alone in our pain. But in reality, grief is something that connects us all. What I’ve learned is that healing doesn’t come solely from holding onto memories—it also comes from the kindness we extend to others.

In times of hardship, one of the most powerful things we can do is to pass on kindness. When we are hurting, it’s easy to become consumed by our own grief, but there is something profoundly healing about turning that pain into something meaningful. A small act of kindness—whether it’s offering a listening ear, sharing a word of encouragement, or simply letting someone know they’re not alone—can be a light in someone else’s darkness.

Grief has taught me that healing isn’t about forgetting, nor is it about closing ourselves off. Instead, it’s about allowing love to flow through us in new ways. It’s about honoring those we’ve lost by choosing to live with greater empathy, deeper understanding, and a heart open to both sorrow and joy. Because when we extend compassion, we don’t just help others—we also help ourselves find a path forward.