Healing the Loss

21/01/2026

Www.healingtheloss.com

21/01/2026

20/01/2026

I cannot state strongly enough, how important this post is!
Healingtheloss.com

Not every loss can be transformed into something useful.

The reality of grief is different from what others see or guess from the outside. Platitudes and pat explanations will not work here.

There is not a reason for everything. Things happen that do not have a silver lining. We have to start telling the truth about this kind of pain. About grief, about love, about loss.

Because the truth is, in one way or another, loving each other means losing each other. Being alive in such a fleeting, tenuous world is hard. Our hearts get broken in ways that can’t be fixed.

There is pain that becomes an immovable part of our lives. We need to know how to endure that, how to care for ourselves inside that, how to care for one another.

We need to know how to live here, where life as we know it can change, forever, at any time. We need to start talking about that reality of life, which is also the reality of love.

Your survival in this life post-loss won’t follow steps or stages, or align with anyone else’s vision of what life might be for you. Survival won’t be found, can’t be found, in easy answers or in putting your lost life behind you, pretending you didn’t really want it anyway.

In order to survive, to find that life that feels authentic and true to you, we have to start with telling the truth. This really is as bad as you think. Everything really is as wrong, and as bizarre, as you know it to be.

When we start there, we can begin to talk about living with grief, living inside the love that remains.

20/01/2026

16/01/2026

No matter how long someone has been caring for a person who is declining and dying, when that last breath is taken, it can feel as though they had absolutely no idea it was coming. You can prepare for months, even years. You can understand the prognosis, witness the changes, and live with anticipatory grief from the moment of diagnosis or decline. And still, when death arrives, the wind is often knocked out of you in the most profound and disorienting way. Knowing it was coming does not soften the moment it actually happens.

This is why comments like, “Weren’t you prepared for this?” or “You knew this was coming,” can be deeply hurtful. They can feel dismissive, even insulting, as though preparation somehow cancels out shock, pain, or the right to grieve. As if having time to anticipate death means you are not entitled to feel the impact of it. That isn’t kind, and it isn’t fair. We do not get to determine how someone experiences loss, whether they had years to prepare or no warning at all.

What we say to someone who is grieving often stays with them far longer than we realize. Support isn’t about having the right words; it’s about showing up with presence and compassion. This moment isn’t about us, it’s about them. The kindest thing we can do is offer a safe place where their feelings are allowed, validated, and held. Because no matter how long you have been preparing for someone to take their last breath, when it happens, it truly feels as though you had no idea it was coming.

xo
Gabby
www.thehospiceheart.net

16/01/2026

Sometimes grief becomes so heavy that a person can no longer cry or shout. The pain is too much to show, and they begin to move through life quietly, appearing calm even while their heart is breaking.

This calmness is not peace, but a shield the mind creates to survive. It reminds us that behind a composed face, there can be a storm of sorrow, and sometimes the deepest feelings are the ones we never see.

15/01/2026

People can be incredibly insensitive to those who are grieving or going through a lot. Saying “they meant well” doesn’t make a hurtful comment less hurtful.
People who are grieving don’t need platitudes. They need presence, care, and respect.

www.healingtheloss.com

15/01/2026

There are days when words abandon us before the pain does. When the mind knows too much, the body holds too much, and the mouth reaches for the shortest sentence available.

“I’m fine” becomes a resting place. Not because it’s true, but because it’s survivable. Because it allows life to keep moving when stopping would require a language we don’t yet have.

If this resonates, please hear this gently. You are not broken for not being able to verbalise your pain. Silence is often the brain’s way of protecting what is still too raw to touch.

And if you’re the one listening, stay. Don’t rush to fill the gap. Sometimes the most healing thing we can do is make room for words that haven’t arrived yet.

This isn’t avoidance. It’s endurance.

15/01/2026

For your consideration...

12/01/2026

💙🩵💙
I’ve come to believe that some souls simply aren’t meant to stay here long.
And I don’t say that lightly.
It’s not something I understand in any earthly way, because truthfully, I don’t.
There’s no logic that can explain why someone we love so deeply could be here one day and gone the next. If there’s a reason, I wish I knew it.
But I don’t.
What I do believe is that we’re each sent here to touch certain lives. To love certain people. To leave imprints that carry on long after we’re gone.
Maybe our time, no matter how painfully short or unexpectedly brief, isn’t measured in years but in the depth of love we give and the connections we make.
I’ve seen how a single person, even one who has left this world far too soon, can change everything for those they loved. The ripple of their kindness, their laughter, their very presence, it never really disappears. It lingers in every person they touched, in quiet moments of memory, in the ways we love others because of how they loved us.
Here’s the thing…maybe that was their purpose.
Maybe that was their gift.
Still…knowing that doesn’t erase the pain I still feel every day. It doesn’t fill the space they left behind. Because the missing never fully goes away.
But sometimes, I can still feel the love. Like they’re whispering to me, “I did what I came here to do and I left my love with you.”
And that’s enough for me now. To hold onto the idea that their time, no matter how brief, was important and special. That the love wasn’t taken away, it only transformed.
That even though they couldn’t stay, that gift of love they gave me will continue to grow for as long as I live.
In many ways, I feel like that love is still here, because love isn’t something you can touch and hold in your hand. It’s a feeling.
And it’s still here…moving through my heart.

Words by: Gary Sturgis – Surviving Grief https://www.facebook.com/SurvivingGriefGarySturgis

Art by: Nakata Illustrations

09/01/2026

Healingtheloss.com