Making Space for Grief: What Losing My Grandmother Taught Me
Recently, I experienced the profound loss of my grandmother, an event that reshaped my understanding of grief in unexpected ways. I anticipated grief to manifest through dramatic displays—tears, emotional turmoil, and a visible disruption of my daily routine. Instead, it arrived gently, weaving itself into the fabric of my life without demanding overwhelming attention. This reflective slowing down became a new normal, altering the texture of ordinary moments rather than halting them entirely.
The Subtle Presence of Grief
Grief, I realised, wasn't an overwhelming devastation for me. It surfaced in quiet, random memories that emerged unexpectedly, like when I instinctively reached for the phone to share something I had written, knowing she would have loved reading it, only to remember I no longer could. It appeared in pauses where words failed me, such as when a jam from the Farmer's Market reminded me of one she had lovingly made. In these moments, grief wasn't a dramatic collapse but a humble reshaping of my world, both internally and externally.
One of the most misunderstood aspects of grief is how narrowly we often define it. We expect it to look like crying, withdrawal, or outwardly visible sorrow. However, grief is far more subtle and deeply personal. Sometimes, it shows up as reflection, tenderness, or an unfamiliar emotional tiredness that stems from carrying love and loss simultaneously. For me, grief coexisted with productivity and routine, especially during January—a month typically filled with momentum and the start-of-year madness. It didn't disrupt life; rather, it lived beneath the surface, tempting me to ignore it and rush past the pain.
Allowing Grief to Take Up Space
The most important decision I made was a simple one: not to hurry. I allowed grief to take up space through personal reflection, unstructured writing, and moments of stillness that required no justification. To my surprise, alongside grief came a surge of creativity—an urge to write, read, and think more deeply about life, continuity, and the spiritual journey of the soul. Grief didn't diminish me; it softened me, slowing me down into a deeper relationship with what truly mattered. When grief is bypassed or minimised, creativity often disappears with it. But when given breathing room, creativity returns, transforming grief into a catalyst for growth.
Grief Is Not a Problem to Solve
We are often conditioned to treat grief as something that must be processed quickly, through stages, timelines, or explanations. Yet, grief is neither linear nor efficient. It unfolds in layers and revisits us in unexpected ways, resisting pressure. Grief is not only about loss; it is also about transition—learning how to relate to memory, love, and life itself after something irreversible has occurred. Making space for grief means allowing our inner world to be honest, even when it feels inconvenient or uncomfortable. It involves accepting that some seasons call for clarity, while others demand gentleness.
What Helped Me Stay with the Process
When grief felt too vast to articulate, I turned to reading for solace and perspective. Journey of Souls by Dr. Michael Newton offered a wider lens on life, death, and continuity, softening the fear around grief and inviting a gentler understanding of transition rather than finality. Life After Death by Deepak Chopra helped me sit with uncertainty without rushing toward explanation, framing grief as part of a deeper spiritual rhythm that moves at its own pace. I also revisited the Bhagavad Gita, particularly in the translation by Swami Mukundananda, whose reflections on impermanence, duty, love, and detachment felt reassuring. These texts didn't resolve my grief but helped me hold it with more steadiness, reminding me that grief has always been part of the human condition.
Carrying Love Forward
I am still grieving my grandmother, but I am learning that grief is not the absence of love—it is love finding a new form. This realisation is profoundly reassuring. We do not need to rush healing or demand closure. In such cases, the most respectful thing we can do for ourselves is to acknowledge what we are carrying and let it move at its own pace. Grief, when met with patience, only deepens us, fostering personal growth and resilience.
Questions to Sit With
To encourage reflection, consider these questions:
- What am I grieving right now—consciously or unconsciously?
- What would it look like to give that grief space, rather than trying to move past it?
- What might this loss be shaping within me?
The goal is not to arrive at clarity or closure but to allow these questions to exist, creating a sacred space where the real work of healing can begin.
