Grief Is A Visitor

Grief is a visitor. It arrives unannounced, like a cold breeze sneaking through the cracks of a locked window. It came when I first lost myself in his hands, his words tearing apart the woman I once was. But in the quiet of those broken moments, grief sat with me, holding up a mirror. It didn’t speak, but it showed me what I needed
to see: the pieces of my soul that longed to be whole again, the parts of me I had forgotten existed.

Grief is a visitor. It lingers in the corner of a room, in the spaces where joy once flourished, and yet it whispers truths I was too afraid to hear. It told me that letting go of a love that hurt was not a weakness, but a gift. In its presence, I found the strength to walk away, to breathe air that no longer felt poisoned by his control.

Grief walked beside me, teaching me that the emptiness left behind was space for something kinder, softer—something mine.

Grief is a visitor. It comes not only for the loss of a person but for the loss of dreams, the ones I held tightly to my chest, like a child with a favourite toy. When those dreams shattered, I wept. But grief sat with me in that pain and told me to dream new dreams, to plant seeds in the soil of my heart that had been scorched. And so, I
did. I began to water new hopes, to trust that something beautiful could grow in the aftermath.

Grief is a visitor. It does not rush or demand but waits patiently until I am ready to listen. It showed up when I was on the bathroom floor, my body bruised and my spirit aching. In that rawness, grief held my hand and reminded me that this too was a kind of mourning, not just for what I had endured, but for what I had allowed. It taught me that forgiveness wasn’t just for him; it was for me too.

Grief is a visitor. It doesn’t promise to leave, but it offers something else: a way through. In its steady presence, I found my voice, the one I had buried deep within me. Grief said it was okay to speak, to scream, to let my pain be heard. And when I did, I felt lighter. Not because the hurt had disappeared, but because grief had helped me carry it to a place where I could finally begin to heal.

Grief is a visitor. It comes with love and loss intertwined, and it brought me back to myself. Through its teachings, I learned that I am still here, still worthy, still enough.

Grief didn’t come to break me; it came to show me that even in the darkest moments, the cracks within me are room for light.