Sometimes you can laugh until your stomach hurts and still feel broken inside.
You can have a really good day and still come home wishing you could tell the person you lost all about it.
You can be grateful for the life you have and still feel completely lost in it sometimes.
You can go out with friends and realize you haven’t thought about your grief for the last two hours.
For a little while, you feel like yourself again.
And then you come home.
The door closes. The house is quiet.
And there it is.
You cry.
You feel lonely.
You miss them.
And suddenly it can feel like all that progress you thought you were making disappeared somewhere between the good time you were having and walking back through your front door.
But it didn’t.
The laughing was real.
The happiness was real.
And the tears you’re crying now are real too.
That’s grief.
It doesn’t require you to choose between missing someone and enjoying your life.
It doesn’t mean the good day wasn’t actually good because you cried at the end of it.
And crying tonight doesn’t erase the fact that you laughed today.
Maybe this is what getting back into life looks like for a while.
A little more laughter.
A few more plans.
Moments when you catch yourself actually enjoying being somewhere.
And still having those moments when the grief comes right back in.
You’re allowed to have both.
You’re allowed to miss them and laugh.
You’re allowed to cry and still make plans for tomorrow.
You’re allowed to enjoy your life and still wish with everything in you that they were here living it with you.
Starting to live again doesn’t mean you’re leaving them behind.
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