Grief is a funny thing. It can hit you at the strangest times.
Just today, I had finished my run and sat down to stretch when a wave of overwhelming sadness came over me. Like most people, I’ve experienced moments like this off and on for as long as I can remember. Sometimes these waves are tied to childhood, other times to more recent losses.
There was a time when I used to fight these moments. I didn’t want to feel them. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to understand that it’s important to embrace grief when it shows up.
Sometimes it’s the loss of someone I’ve loved that rises to the surface. I think of my grandmother, Mary, who I lost when I was six years old. I loved her deeply, and I know she loved me just as much. Other times, it’s dear friends—Joanna, Rachel, Catherine—whose absence I feel.
And sometimes, the grief is more abstract. It’s the loss of a relationship I never really had, like the one with my own mother, who chose to leave when I was just eight years old. Other times, it’s grief for something I thought might be part of my life, but never came to be.
Whatever form it takes, I’ve learned to let the grief come. I try to ride the wave instead of resisting it. There are usually tears. But eventually, when I’m thinking about the people I’ve lost, the memories begin to soften the edges, and sometimes even bring a smile.
Not all grief transforms that way. Some losses—like the relationship with my mother—still sit heavy.
Not all grief turns into something soft or beautiful. Some of it stays heavy. Some of it still hurts in ways that time hasn’t fixed—and maybe never will.
And I’m no longer trying to fix it.
Because grief isn’t a problem to solve. It’s a reflection of love, of longing, of what mattered—and still matters.
It’s part of me now. Not something I carry reluctantly, but something I’ve made space for.
Because every loss, every absence, every “what could have been” has shaped the way I see the world, the way I love the people who are still here, and the way I show up for myself.
Grief didn’t just break me open.
It changed me.
And at some point, I stopped resisting that—and started honoring it.
Coach Kareen 
So very true. In youth you feel invincible. As a mom I was more concerned about kids, and took great care of family and friends. My health mental and physical suffered. I too found that my motivation for change was not steady or strong. In my 50’s I finally have begun to see the results of not taking better care of myself. I have had the mindset lately, that is similar to “just do it!”. Life’s stress is always gonna be there, and some things you have to do are not fun (check ups etc). I finally told myself, either choose to live or die an unhealthy death. Both my paternal and maternal grandfathers died at 60 .I am creeping up to that age and I am not ready to go. Many mornings I have to start the day and say “yep, today is gonna be stressful, but guess what you are gonna take care of yourself anyway.” Basically, I am gonna “Just do it!”
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m so glad that you’ve learned to take better care of yourself! I need you to be around for a very long time!
LikeLike