18/02/2026
Fifteen Years
In a few days, it will be 15 years since my grandmother passed.
Grief is strange. It doesn’t disappear. It changes shape.
Some years it whispers. Some years it sits heavily in the room.
This year, it feels close.
Work has been quiet. Bookings are slow. Financial pressure is real.
And when things feel uncertain, my mind spirals faster than I’d like to admit.
I teach healing. I hold space. I guide others through transformation.
But I am also human.
Some days I feel strong and unstoppable.
Other days I feel tired, worried, and questioning everything.
Grief doesn’t just come from losing someone.
It comes from expectations. From plans that didn’t unfold yet. From doors that haven’t opened.
But here is the truth:
Love keeps me here.
The steady love of my partner.
The quiet loyalty of my animals who lie on me when I can’t regulate myself.
The warmth of being chosen and held, even when I feel fragile.
Fifteen years ago, I lost my grandmother.
But I carry her resilience in my bones.
If you’re grieving something — a person, a version of yourself, a dream — you are not weak.
You are still here.
And sometimes, that is the bravest thing of all.
— Drakaina Hail
