We’re told to fix what’s broken, to move on, to let go. But some pain stays with us, shaping who we are and how we see the world. Not every wound needs to heal for us to move forward
Some pains are here to stay. I also learned a lot after my father’s passing. I learned that life is not as long as I thought, and others’ opinions don’t matter as long as I am proud of what I do.
Kessie, thank you for sharing that and for your kind words. I’m so sorry about your father’s passing. It’s incredible how loss has a way of reshaping our perspective, isn’t it? Realising how fleeting life is can be both heartbreaking and freeing. And you’re so right—what truly matters is living in a way that makes us proud, not chasing others’ approval. Sending you so much love and strength on your journey. ❤️
I’m so deeply sorry for your loss. Losing someone so young and so dear leaves a wound that words can’t fully touch. It’s a grief that becomes a part of you, and it’s okay if it doesn’t heal in the way people often expect. Thank you for sharing something so deeply personal, it means a lot. Please know my thoughts are with you and your family as you navigate this unimaginable pain. Sending love and light your way. 💜
This is beautiful, Salwa. A good friend of mine left a few years back and whenever I think of him I cannot move. This letter seems like permission to continue to mourn him. Thank you
That’s so deeply felt, and I’m truly sorry for your loss. Grief doesn’t follow a timeline, and some people leave an imprint so profound that moving forward doesn’t mean leaving them behind—it just means carrying them differently. You don’t have to rush the mourning. Sending you love and light. 💛
Reading all the comments and beautiful reflections to your beautiful piece just reinforces how grief is universal. It will touch every single one of us.
After my mother died I was so scared of the depth of my grief. Scared that if I felt it all, I would never be able to stand up at all. When I let go of my anger and my stories of what’s fair and not fair, what I discovered was a brand new, to me, experience of love. One holding both sides of love: the joy and the pain of loss. The sensation is so tender, tingly full eyes, tight throat, achy and full heart space.
I hang out on that feeling for a period of time every day before meditation and it is changing me. Making my capacity for love and forgiveness larger, my empathy and compassion more constant and my gratitude ever present. It’s softened me. I’ve come to believe that the wound of my grief is a gift. One that leads me to the experience of wholeness within me.
Thank you for writing such a beautiful essay and thank all those whose comments touched my heart this morning.
Alyssa, this is such a deeply moving reflection—thank you for sharing it. Grief does change us, doesn’t it? It strips everything down to what’s real. That space you’ve created to sit with it, to let it soften you instead of harden you, is so powerful. Holding space for both love and loss—that’s a kind of wholeness few talk about, but you’ve put it into words so beautifully. Sending you warmth. 💙
Beautifully written. My wife and I lost our daughter a year ago, and we constantly talked about finding our "new normal" as we worked to heal and learn to live without her. That focus worked for us. We were not wanting to "move on" from this loss. We wanted to figure out how to integrate our daughter's life and the loss of her into who we are as a couple and individuals.
Kyle, I'm so deeply sorry for your loss. Your words about finding a “new normal” resonate profoundly. Grief is such a complex journey, and I admire how you and your wife have worked to honour your daughter’s memory while continuing to heal. Integrating her life and loss into who you are is such a beautiful and meaningful approach. Wishing you both peace and strength as you continue on this path. Thank you for sharing such a vulnerable and powerful reflection. 💜
No truer words have been said. That is the lesson that grief has taught me. That it never goes away and it enlarges us creating tethers of interconnectedness and compassion, allowing us to hold others in their woundedness without fixing. Beautifully said. I will definitely be sharing this article with others. Lovely. And I’m sorry for your loss. I love to hear when people have such meaningful relationships with their fathers. What a gift.
Viola, thank you so much for your kind words and for sharing such a profound reflection. You’re absolutely right, grief doesn’t go away; it transforms us, creating space for deeper compassion and connection. It’s such a powerful lesson, even though it comes with so much pain.
I truly appreciate you sharing this article with others...that means so much. And yes, having that relationship with my father was an incredible gift, one I’ll forever cherish. Thank you for your understanding and for holding space for these emotions. 💜
John, thank you so much for your kind words and for sharing this beautiful perspective. I love the idea that our toughest scars can be elevated with light, especially the kind we find within ourselves. It takes incredible courage to venture into those dark places, but as you said, that’s where transformation happens. Your words are such a powerful reminder of how even the hardest experiences can inspire and uplift others. Thank you for this, it truly resonates. 💜
"Grief is a brutal teacher" -- so much yes to this!! I appreciate this post so much - thanks for sharing! ♥️ I write about this in my first book -- about Kinstsugi and the push towards premature meaning making...
Thank you so much for your kind words! 'Grief is a brutal teacher' really stays with me too - it’s such a profound truth. Your book sounds fascinating, especially with the connection to Kintsugi and the idea of premature meaning making. I’d love to check it out! ✨
Another lesson that grief taught me is how to be patient and hope for the better things to come. And I was able to have clarity and peace that there is a destination. My loved ones who have gone from this life have already reached that destination, and I still have not, so with patience and hope I will set my sights toward that goal.
It is true that some wounds do not heal, but only in this life. In the next, we are promised a restored body in eternity. This is what I hold on to. This is what keeps me from moving. As one of the songs of Casting Crowns says, “The only scars in heaven are on the Hands that hold you now.”
What a beautiful reflection, and I truly appreciate you sharing it. Grief has a way of teaching us patience and resilience, and it’s so powerful that you’re able to find peace and clarity through that. The idea of holding onto hope and knowing there is a destination brings so much comfort. I love the way you connect your healing journey to faith and the promise of restoration. The line from Casting Crowns is such a beautiful reminder that our scars don’t define us, but the love and care we receive will always be there.
This is beautiful. And I agree wholeheartedly with your writing! I've learned to repurpose the pain I was once tried to bury into a treasure that has made me ME.
I love that—repurposing pain instead of burying it. That’s such a powerful way to look at it. Some wounds don’t disappear, but they shape us in ways we never expected. Thank you for sharing this, and for seeing the beauty in what once hurt. 💛
I have likened my father's death, and still do, to a wonderful book that I put down, but can never finish. That bookmark of pain will always remain, yet no matter how much I long for more it remains shelved. I do have the cherished memories of chapters past but that longing will always remain.
Joe, that’s such a poignant analogy. The idea of a book that can never be finished is a beautiful yet heartbreaking way to describe the lingering ache of loss. Those cherished memories, like chapters past, become treasures, even as the longing for more remains. It’s a testament to the love you shared with your father and the impact he had on your life. The bookmark of pain may never go away, but the story you carry with you continues, even if unfinished. Sending you warmth and understanding as you navigate this journey. 💜
I describe those wounds as "leaving scars" by "weaving new tissue". They'll always be tender to the touch, but they make me stronger, deeper, and wiser for having them... and like you, I wouldn't trade them for anything.
It's also true that some losses hurt like hell but are quite simply good for you: things like losing a toxic ex you truly loved rather than losing a father. You wish the relationship could have worked out, you did not give it up willingly, and the loss hurts... but you are undeniably and in every way better off by having lost it.
Not all wounds heal fully. And not all wounds leave the same kind of scar.
Rodolfo, your words resonate deeply—“leaving scars by weaving new tissue” is such a powerful way to describe the process of healing and growth after pain. It’s true that some wounds, while they remain tender, ultimately make us stronger, more resilient, and more understanding. The idea that some losses though incredibly painful can lead to personal growth, like the end of a toxic relationship, is such a profound truth. It’s not always the wounds we would have chosen, but they shape us in ways we often don’t fully grasp until later. Thank you for sharing such a thoughtful and heartfelt perspective. Your wisdom and clarity are truly beautiful. 💛
Some pains are here to stay. I also learned a lot after my father’s passing. I learned that life is not as long as I thought, and others’ opinions don’t matter as long as I am proud of what I do.
Thank you for this beautiful writing ❤️
Kessie, thank you for sharing that and for your kind words. I’m so sorry about your father’s passing. It’s incredible how loss has a way of reshaping our perspective, isn’t it? Realising how fleeting life is can be both heartbreaking and freeing. And you’re so right—what truly matters is living in a way that makes us proud, not chasing others’ approval. Sending you so much love and strength on your journey. ❤️
My 8 year old step grandson was killed in a tragic accident last May. I don’t think that wound will ever heal no matter how much time passes.
Your post is very well done.
I’m so deeply sorry for your loss. Losing someone so young and so dear leaves a wound that words can’t fully touch. It’s a grief that becomes a part of you, and it’s okay if it doesn’t heal in the way people often expect. Thank you for sharing something so deeply personal, it means a lot. Please know my thoughts are with you and your family as you navigate this unimaginable pain. Sending love and light your way. 💜
This is beautiful, Salwa. A good friend of mine left a few years back and whenever I think of him I cannot move. This letter seems like permission to continue to mourn him. Thank you
That’s so deeply felt, and I’m truly sorry for your loss. Grief doesn’t follow a timeline, and some people leave an imprint so profound that moving forward doesn’t mean leaving them behind—it just means carrying them differently. You don’t have to rush the mourning. Sending you love and light. 💛
Reading all the comments and beautiful reflections to your beautiful piece just reinforces how grief is universal. It will touch every single one of us.
After my mother died I was so scared of the depth of my grief. Scared that if I felt it all, I would never be able to stand up at all. When I let go of my anger and my stories of what’s fair and not fair, what I discovered was a brand new, to me, experience of love. One holding both sides of love: the joy and the pain of loss. The sensation is so tender, tingly full eyes, tight throat, achy and full heart space.
I hang out on that feeling for a period of time every day before meditation and it is changing me. Making my capacity for love and forgiveness larger, my empathy and compassion more constant and my gratitude ever present. It’s softened me. I’ve come to believe that the wound of my grief is a gift. One that leads me to the experience of wholeness within me.
Thank you for writing such a beautiful essay and thank all those whose comments touched my heart this morning.
Alyssa, this is such a deeply moving reflection—thank you for sharing it. Grief does change us, doesn’t it? It strips everything down to what’s real. That space you’ve created to sit with it, to let it soften you instead of harden you, is so powerful. Holding space for both love and loss—that’s a kind of wholeness few talk about, but you’ve put it into words so beautifully. Sending you warmth. 💙
Sending warmth right back to you, Salwa. 💕
Beautifully written. My wife and I lost our daughter a year ago, and we constantly talked about finding our "new normal" as we worked to heal and learn to live without her. That focus worked for us. We were not wanting to "move on" from this loss. We wanted to figure out how to integrate our daughter's life and the loss of her into who we are as a couple and individuals.
Kyle, I'm so deeply sorry for your loss. Your words about finding a “new normal” resonate profoundly. Grief is such a complex journey, and I admire how you and your wife have worked to honour your daughter’s memory while continuing to heal. Integrating her life and loss into who you are is such a beautiful and meaningful approach. Wishing you both peace and strength as you continue on this path. Thank you for sharing such a vulnerable and powerful reflection. 💜
No truer words have been said. That is the lesson that grief has taught me. That it never goes away and it enlarges us creating tethers of interconnectedness and compassion, allowing us to hold others in their woundedness without fixing. Beautifully said. I will definitely be sharing this article with others. Lovely. And I’m sorry for your loss. I love to hear when people have such meaningful relationships with their fathers. What a gift.
Viola, thank you so much for your kind words and for sharing such a profound reflection. You’re absolutely right, grief doesn’t go away; it transforms us, creating space for deeper compassion and connection. It’s such a powerful lesson, even though it comes with so much pain.
I truly appreciate you sharing this article with others...that means so much. And yes, having that relationship with my father was an incredible gift, one I’ll forever cherish. Thank you for your understanding and for holding space for these emotions. 💜
Elegantly said! I appreciate your approach in how you're handling the loss of your father.
I personally do believe that our scars, even the toughest ones can all be elevated with Light.
That Light is found within.
Deep within the darkness, the place that so many of us are unwilling to go.
But if we muster the courage, we could shine the brightest Light on our wounds and transform into something that would inspire others.
John, thank you so much for your kind words and for sharing this beautiful perspective. I love the idea that our toughest scars can be elevated with light, especially the kind we find within ourselves. It takes incredible courage to venture into those dark places, but as you said, that’s where transformation happens. Your words are such a powerful reminder of how even the hardest experiences can inspire and uplift others. Thank you for this, it truly resonates. 💜
"Grief is a brutal teacher" -- so much yes to this!! I appreciate this post so much - thanks for sharing! ♥️ I write about this in my first book -- about Kinstsugi and the push towards premature meaning making...
✨❤️🩹
Thank you so much for your kind words! 'Grief is a brutal teacher' really stays with me too - it’s such a profound truth. Your book sounds fascinating, especially with the connection to Kintsugi and the idea of premature meaning making. I’d love to check it out! ✨
Here’s a chapter from the book speaking to grief. If you like it, the post has links to purchase the book!
https://open.substack.com/pub/curiosityrising/p/spiritual-bypassing-101?r=y57y5&utm_medium=ios
Oh thank you Emily for sharing, will defiantly check it out
Dont forget to share me your writing!
Very well expressed. Whenever I feel grief, I just remind myself. It’s lots of love with nowhere to go. And that makes it so much easier to cope.
Reading this made me smile, thank you :)
Another lesson that grief taught me is how to be patient and hope for the better things to come. And I was able to have clarity and peace that there is a destination. My loved ones who have gone from this life have already reached that destination, and I still have not, so with patience and hope I will set my sights toward that goal.
It is true that some wounds do not heal, but only in this life. In the next, we are promised a restored body in eternity. This is what I hold on to. This is what keeps me from moving. As one of the songs of Casting Crowns says, “The only scars in heaven are on the Hands that hold you now.”
What a beautiful reflection, and I truly appreciate you sharing it. Grief has a way of teaching us patience and resilience, and it’s so powerful that you’re able to find peace and clarity through that. The idea of holding onto hope and knowing there is a destination brings so much comfort. I love the way you connect your healing journey to faith and the promise of restoration. The line from Casting Crowns is such a beautiful reminder that our scars don’t define us, but the love and care we receive will always be there.
kintsugi is such a beautiful craft and reminder
It really is Lawrence. Thank you for stopping by
This is beautiful. And I agree wholeheartedly with your writing! I've learned to repurpose the pain I was once tried to bury into a treasure that has made me ME.
I love that—repurposing pain instead of burying it. That’s such a powerful way to look at it. Some wounds don’t disappear, but they shape us in ways we never expected. Thank you for sharing this, and for seeing the beauty in what once hurt. 💛
Wonderful insight. It resonates with my post, to learn to carry the pain.
https://open.substack.com/pub/leah19441/p/the-struggle-with-grief-is-true-healing?r=539kld&utm_medium=ios
Thank you Leah, and thank you sharing a link to your post. Will defiantly check it out!
I have likened my father's death, and still do, to a wonderful book that I put down, but can never finish. That bookmark of pain will always remain, yet no matter how much I long for more it remains shelved. I do have the cherished memories of chapters past but that longing will always remain.
Joe, that’s such a poignant analogy. The idea of a book that can never be finished is a beautiful yet heartbreaking way to describe the lingering ache of loss. Those cherished memories, like chapters past, become treasures, even as the longing for more remains. It’s a testament to the love you shared with your father and the impact he had on your life. The bookmark of pain may never go away, but the story you carry with you continues, even if unfinished. Sending you warmth and understanding as you navigate this journey. 💜
Thank you Salwa! It is much appreciated. I hope you have a wonderful day.
The pieces is great amongst the ones have seen so dar today .
Sorry for your loss.
May his soul rest in peace
Thank you so much for your kind words and thoughts. Your message means a lot, and I truly appreciate your empathy. Peace to you as well
Well and beautifully written. Thank you.
I describe those wounds as "leaving scars" by "weaving new tissue". They'll always be tender to the touch, but they make me stronger, deeper, and wiser for having them... and like you, I wouldn't trade them for anything.
It's also true that some losses hurt like hell but are quite simply good for you: things like losing a toxic ex you truly loved rather than losing a father. You wish the relationship could have worked out, you did not give it up willingly, and the loss hurts... but you are undeniably and in every way better off by having lost it.
Not all wounds heal fully. And not all wounds leave the same kind of scar.
Rodolfo, your words resonate deeply—“leaving scars by weaving new tissue” is such a powerful way to describe the process of healing and growth after pain. It’s true that some wounds, while they remain tender, ultimately make us stronger, more resilient, and more understanding. The idea that some losses though incredibly painful can lead to personal growth, like the end of a toxic relationship, is such a profound truth. It’s not always the wounds we would have chosen, but they shape us in ways we often don’t fully grasp until later. Thank you for sharing such a thoughtful and heartfelt perspective. Your wisdom and clarity are truly beautiful. 💛