I don’t like admitting this,
but sometimes I feel jealous.
Jealous of people who still have what I lost.
The ones who still get to call.
Still get to stop by.
Still get to say, “I love you” and hear it back.
It’s not that I want them to hurt.
I don’t.
But there’s a part of me that aches when I see what I’ll never have again.
And then, as fast as the jealousy comes,
the guilt follows.
Like I should be above those feelings.
Like grief should be pure and graceful.
But the truth?
Grief is messy.
It’s layered.
It makes you feel things you don’t want to feel—
and then makes you feel bad for feeling them.
So, if you’ve ever looked at someone else’s life and felt that sting of envy,
you’re not a bad person.
You’re just a person who’s lost something irreplaceable.
And it’s okay to admit it still hurts.
Even when you’re smiling.
Even when you're happy for them.
Even when time has passed.
You're allowed to miss what you had—
and long for what you can't get back.
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