Grief as Love’s Shadow

When I was a child, I vividly remember being consumed by the fear of losing my parents—especially my mother. I was so attached to her that the idea of life without her was unfathomable. If she went on vacation with my father or was simply late coming home, anxiety would set in. Where is she? What’s happening? As children, our parents are everything—they are our survival. If we’re fortunate enough to have loving parents, they are our source of love, safety, and protection.

As I moved through my 20s and 30s, that same anxiety lingered, but it shifted form. I no longer worried about whether my mother would return home on time. Instead, the fear became: How will I cope if I lose her? How will I navigate this chaotic world without her advice, love, and support? The anxiety would be so intense I had to force myself to shut down the thoughts because the fear was too big, too unfathomable. How could I ever live in a world without her?

In my 30s, I experienced the heartbreaking reality of watching my mother, still so young in her 60s, deteriorate due to Parkinson's disease. It slowly took away everything she loved: her voice—once the source of so much laughter and wisdom; the sparkle in her eyes, which had lit up so many moments; and her ability to move—the joyful dancing and warm hugs that had always been her way of expressing love.

When my mother passed away at 42, I was thrust back to that little girl whose worst nightmare had come true: I would never see my mom again. The grief was excruciating. My body and mind were experiencing shock and pain I had never felt before. Grief was a whirlwind, overwhelming me with waves of anger, sadness, disbelief, shock, and hopelessness. At times, the emotions were so intense that I felt numb—my body’s way of protecting itself from the sheer weight of it all.

As a therapist, I’ve had the privilege of sitting with countless clients over the years as they’ve shared their personal experiences of grief—whether from the loss of a parent, child, grandparent, or close friend. I've also witnessed the profound sorrow that accompanies the slow loss of one's abilities due to chronic illness, accidents, or suicide.

The ways people cope with grief vary widely. I’ve seen clients turn to work, or addictions as distrractions, while others are overwhelmed by depression. What I’ve come to understand is that skipping the painful process of grieving doesn’t give the emotions the outlet they need. The only way through such a profound loss is to allow yourself to fully experience the pain and all the complex emotions that accompany it.

I’ve observed that, as humans, we often do everything we can to avoid feeling pain. However, the danger is that if grief is not properly processed, it can negatively impact our mental and emotional health, as well as our current and future relationships.It also doesn’t honor the great love we feel for those we lose, as with great grief is a reflection of the great love and great loss we experience. The stronger the grief, the more it reflects the depth of our love and connection.

With time, however, I’ve come to realize that grief often brings with it a deeper appreciation for how fragile life truly is. It reminds us that nothing is guaranteed, and in that, it urges us to live fully in the present—because that’s the only certainty we have. Grief is quiet and loud, gentle and fierce. But over time, it is a reminder that love and grief go hand in hand and is a shared human experience on this earth.

Years later, I can now look back and remember my mother’s beauty, her unyielding zest for life, and the powerful imprint she left on so many people. Grief never truly ends, but it changes shape over time. Now, I can smile when I think of her, with a deeper appreciation for the people I love. Grief is a reminder to live loudly and love strongly. It may never completely go away, and there are moments—like when a Tina Turner song comes on, a song my mother and I used to dance to when I was a kid, or that I played for her in the final month of her life in the hospital—that I burst into tears. But even then, I know that the love I felt for her reminds me that nothing is permanent and love is the most powerful. No one is permanent. What does live on is the imprint we leave on those we love—and that, in the end, is what lasts.

The Power of Connection: Why We Need Each Other in a World That Encourages Isolation

As I reflect on what it means to be human in today's world, one fundamental aspect of life always comes to mind: connection. From the isolation of the pandemic to the shifting landscape of work, learning, and social interactions in our increasingly digital world, it’s easy to see how we can slip into feelings of disconnection. Yes, there’s science that supports the health benefits of human connection, but honestly, I don’t need research to validate my own experiences of isolation.

During the pandemic, I felt intense waves of anxiety, loneliness, and confusion. What was going on with me? Why did everything feel off? It quickly became clear: the absence of daily interactions with others was taking a toll on my mental health. My only company was my four-legged girl, Lulu, and the occasional meetup with a single friend. I was, for all intents and purposes, alone.

Even now, years after the pandemic, I find that being social requires more effort than being alone. The rise of remote work, online learning, and the convenience of technology means we don’t need to leave our homes for much anymore. We can have groceries delivered to our door, game online without ever meeting our fellow players, date through apps, work from our couches, and even get rides from strangers through our phones. Being alone has never been easier; all we need is a device.

I’ve often read about and watched documentaries on cultures where multiple generations live under one roof, and how these communities thrive—emotionally, physically, and socially. It’s fascinating, especially when we compare it to the emphasis on individualism in the United States. In our society, independence is often valued more highly than connection. As a therapist, I’m well aware of the negative outcomes of isolation—how it contributes to mental health struggles like addiction, mood disorders, and even physical ailments when the vital need for human connection is neglected.

But my appreciation for connection goes beyond theory. I’ve learned to cherish even the smallest interactions: a quick chat with a stranger in line at the grocery store, a friendly conversation with someone at a coffee shop, or a neighborly exchange with fellow dog parents outside. I’ve witnessed firsthand how clients improve when they have consistent people in their lives, people they can talk to, share with, and rely on. These small moments of connection can uplift our spirits and calm our nervous systems in ways that distractions and numbing behaviors never can.

Whether you're an extrovert or an introvert, one thing is certain: we all need people. Our mental, emotional, spiritual, and physical well-being is deeply intertwined with our relationships. It’s through connection that we remember we’re not alone in this experience of life. And I, for one, will keep making small talk whenever I can—because I’ve never valued these everyday interactions more than I do now. The benefits of human connection far outweigh the convenience of solitude, especially when we have access to it so easily.

As I sit here in my favorite coffee shop, typing this post, I’ve already been greeted by three different people. The smiles I’ve exchanged with them are enough to remind me that, no matter how much technology advances, one truth remains: we need each other. It’s in connecting with others that we experience empathy, compassion, and love. It’s in these connections that we gain a deeper understanding of ourselves and the world around us.

Learning to be independent is important, but independence doesn’t mean cutting ourselves off from the people and relationships that nourish us. It’s through a balance of solitude and connection that we live fuller, richer lives—experiencing the full range of emotions and human experiences that make life worth living.

So, how will you show up in the world today—connected, independent, or somewhere in between?