I’d like to officially serve grief an eviction notice.
You were never invited here.
You showed up anyway, walked right in, and made yourself at home.
You took over my thoughts.
My sleep.
My plans.
My relationships.
My energy.
Parts of me I didn’t even know you could reach.
For a while, you took up so much space that it felt like there wasn’t room for anything else.
And quite frankly, grief, I’m tired of you.
I’m tired of you deciding when I cry.
I’m tired of you changing plans I was sure I could handle.
I’m tired of you showing up in the middle of a good day and reminding me that my life is not the life I thought I would have.
There are days I’d love to pack your bags, put them outside, change the locks, and tell you it’s time to go.
But I know better.
I know I can’t permanently evict you.
Because you didn’t come into my life for no reason.
You came because someone I love died.
And that’s what makes wanting you gone so complicated.
I can be tired of grief without being tired of loving them.
I can hate what losing them has done to my life without ever wishing away the life and love we shared.
I can wish you would leave while knowing that some part of you probably never will.
Because grief only exists here because love existed first.
So yes, grief, there are days I would gladly serve you an eviction notice.
Not because I want to forget.
Not because I’m done loving.
Not because they matter any less.
I’m just tired of you being here.
If these words connected with you, you’ll find many more like them in What Remains. It’s a collection of the writings I’ve shared over the years, bringing together reflections on grief, love, loss, and the connections that continue long after someone is gone.
I hope it brings you comfort, understanding, and the reminder that you’re not alone.
If you’d like to read more, you can find the book here
Available now on Amazon