Loss is an empty chair at the dinner table, a quiet phone where laughter once rang, a space in your heart that once felt full. It comes in many forms—the passing of a loved one, the end of a relationship, the closing of a chapter that once felt permanent. Some losses are sudden, like a storm tearing through without warning. Others unfold slowly, like autumn leaves drifting to the ground, one by one, until you realize the tree is bare. But no matter the form it takes, loss carries with it an undeniable weight—a gravity that pulls at the soul, demanding to be felt.

At first, we resist. We replay memories as if we can rewrite them. We cling to what was, convinced that letting go means forgetting. Denial shields us, if only for a moment, from the harshness of reality. But denial is not a home—it is a temporary refuge, a pause before the journey truly begins. And so, grief arrives, settling in like an uninvited guest, bringing with it waves of sadness, anger, and longing.

Grief does not follow rules. Some days, it whispers; other days, it roars. One moment, you think you’re standing strong, and the next, a song, a scent, or a familiar place shatters the illusion. There is no shortcut through this. Loss must be walked through, felt deeply, honored in its weight. But here is the truth we often forget: loss is not just about what is taken—it is also about what remains.

Because loss does not leave us with nothing—it leaves us with something new. A changed perspective. A deeper appreciation. A resilience we never knew we had. The love we once held does not vanish with absence; it changes form. It becomes the stories we tell, the strength we uncover, the wisdom we pass down. It becomes the quiet understanding we offer someone else when they are walking the same path. It becomes the light that, even in darkness, refuses to fade.

What if, instead of looking at loss as only an ending, we also saw it as a transformation? What if we took what was good and let it live on in us? A parent’s love continues in the way we care for others. A relationship, even when over, teaches us what love should feel like. A job that once defined us may have simply been a stepping stone to something greater. Nothing truly disappears—it simply reshapes, leaving behind lessons, memories, and a light that can guide us forward.

If forgiveness is needed, offer it—not for the sake of forgetting, but for the peace it brings to your own heart. If pain lingers, let it teach you, but do not let it define you. Loss may take, but it also leaves behind gifts—if we are willing to see them.

Loss is not the end of the story. It is the space between chapters, the pause before something new begins. And in that space, you remain. You are still here, still growing, still becoming. And that is its own kind of radiance.

So today, if you are mourning something or someone, know this: you are not alone. The grief will ebb and flow, but so will the light. Love lingers, lessons endure, and in time, something new will emerge from the space loss leaves behind. Hold on. Even in absence, love still shines.