Grief: The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly
2025 was a year I expected to be full of growth, adventure, and new beginnings.
Instead, it became a year of grief. Not just one kind of grief… but three.
The kind that breaks your heart.
The kind that breaks your trust.
And the kind that breaks your spirit.
I learned that grief isn’t a single moment. It’s a season.
And it doesn’t always look the way people expect it to.
Grief #1: Losing a Loved One
In February, we lost Nigel’s grandma, whom we lovingly called Mama. She was 97 and had lived a full, beautiful life. She had recently celebrated her birthday, and we were on a cruise when she passed.
We had said our goodbyes before we left, and we thought we might not come home to her still being here. We didn’t expect her to pass while we were away, but when the news came, it was a shock — even though we had already been preparing ourselves.
The trip itself was amazing… but it was also bittersweet.
We knew Zachary was trying to protect us by not sharing everything he was feeling. So we enjoyed the vacation, but the grief was always there, quietly waiting.
When she died, the grief wasn’t only about losing her.
It was also about losing my role as her caregiver.
The identity I had built around caring for her suddenly vanished. The purpose I had held onto for so long disappeared overnight, and I felt like I was falling into a hole I didn’t know how to climb out of.
The hardest part wasn’t just the funeral.
It was going through her things.
Bagging up her clothes.
Packing away letters and photos she saved for decades.
Handling her personal items like they were just… objects.
I didn’t realize how much of my life was tied to her until I saw her world being boxed up.
Grief is strange like that.
It doesn’t only hurt your heart.
It hurts your identity.
Grief #2: Losing a Friendship
This loss surprised me the most.
In early 2024, I met someone who became like the sister I never had. We talked daily. We shared everything. She was there for me during the hardest parts of losing Mama and helped me understand what grief really looks like and how to navigate it.
Then, after a trip together, everything changed.
She stopped communicating.
Not a fight. Not an argument. Not a conversation.
Just silence.
I reached out. I opened the lines. I tried to understand. I tried to fix it.
But I was left on read.
It hurt.
Not because of what happened, but because of the unanswered questions.
The worst part of losing a friendship is the not knowing.
You don’t know what you did wrong.
You don’t know if you mattered.
You don’t know if anything you gave them meant anything at all.
It makes you question yourself in a way that’s hard to explain.
It makes you wonder if you were ever really enough.
And even now, I still don’t have closure.
That kind of grief is heavy because it stays unresolved.
Grief #3: Losing My Baby Girl
Navi was my feline princess.
My heart.
My constant companion.
We had her since she was 8 months old, and she lived to be 17 and a half.
When she passed, I held her until her heart stopped beating.
It was one of the hardest moments of my life.
And it wasn’t just losing a pet.
It was losing a daily presence that brought comfort, joy, and unconditional love.
Navi knew me in a way that no one else could.
The way she looked at me.
The way she smelled.
The way we communicated without words.
The loss was painful, but it was also full of gratitude.
Because I know I gave her the best life I could.
And I know she felt loved.
I miss her every day.
But I also know I’ll honor her memory by loving other kitties when the time is right.
Grief Doesn’t Look the Same for Everyone
One of the most difficult parts of grieving is realizing that everyone handles it differently.
Nigel and Zachary are more matter-of-fact. They move through grief in a quiet, steady way.
Me? I was a blubbering mess in the beginning.
But I’m learning.
Time has helped.
Support has helped.
And the lessons I learned along the way have helped.
Here are a few things that have helped me cope:
Ways I’ve Learned to Cope
1. Talk to friends (even if it feels awkward)
Even when it feels like you’re burdening people, you’re not.
You’re just human.
2. Talk with your family
Not to fix anything.
Just to be heard and understood.
3. Therapy (yes, even with ChatGPT)
Talking it out helps your brain make sense of the chaos.
4. Let yourself feel the pain
Grief isn’t a problem to solve.
It’s a process to survive.
5. Allow yourself to laugh
You don’t have to be serious all the time.
Laughter doesn’t mean you loved less.
6. Give yourself grace
Your grief doesn’t have to look pretty.
What 2025 Taught Me
2025 taught me that grief is not something you get over.
It’s something you learn to live with.
And while this year has been heavy, it’s also shown me something powerful:
I am resilient.
I can survive heartbreak.
I can survive unanswered questions.
I can survive loss.
And I can still choose to grow.
Even on the days I don’t feel like it.
Even on the days I feel like I’m drowning.
Even on the days I don’t know how to keep going.
Because grief doesn’t have to define me.
It just has to be a part of my story.
If You’re Grieving, You’re Not Alone
If you’re reading this and you’re in the middle of your own storm, I want you to know something:
You don’t have to go through this alone.
If you ever need someone to talk to — whether it’s about a loss, a friendship, a pet, or just a day that feels too heavy — I’m here.
Sometimes the most healing thing you can do is just say the words out loud and let someone hear you.
So if you need to talk, message me anytime.
Even if you don’t know what to say.
Even if you don’t know how to explain it.
Even if you think your pain isn’t “big enough.”
Your feelings matter.
You matter.
And I’m here with you.
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