bereaved
Navigating Grief Without Losing Yourself
In my work as a psychic reader, I have worked with many people navigating grief. Over the years, I have witnessed how people process loss and transition differently.
I have often had to guide clients toward grounding, self-trust, and setting compassionate boundaries. And, as life would have it, I recently had to draw on that wisdom and apply it to my own family.
My father was recently admitted to hospice care at his local nursing home after spending a week in the hospital. His prognosis was poor.
As our family transitioned to this new phase of care, I stayed in touch with loved ones and made decisions centered on his comfort and dignity.
At the same time, I made a conscious effort to protect my emotional energy and maintain healthy boundaries so that I could stay grounded.
In these circumstances I’ve been grappling with a kind of grief that isn’t often acknowledged: the grief of realizing someone you love is no longer the person they once were.
Even when they are physically present, the relationship shifts. There can be a quiet heartbreak in adjusting to the present while remembering the past.
There is also grief in watching a family reorganize itself. During times of transition, long-standing dynamics often change. Some family connections deepen and some relationships no longer operate as they once did. This can also feel like a loss in terms of shared understanding and how things “used to be.” Sudden changes in family circumstances tend to reveal where everyone actually stands.
Grief Is A Sacred Gift Of Soul Experience
Long ago, I yearned for a deeper life, a full life, a sane life. And the door opened. It led me within.
Now, I long for a deep wound to be healed, and again I feel the door opening. I am prepared for the changes that come each time the door opens, and welcome them with profound gratitude.
I’ve come to understand that these “doors” don’t always show up looking bright and shiny and obviously spiritual. Sometimes they arrive disguised as heartbreak, loss, and the kind of grief that knocks the breath right out of your body. It doesn’t feel like a doorway then. It feels like a wall. A dead end. A great, echoing “Why?”
Last year had been a particularly difficult time for me. So much grief! Layers of it. Old grief that I thought I had already handled. New grief that came out of nowhere. Grief that didn’t even seem to have a clear name or story attached to it. I just had waves of sadness and loneliness that would rise up and spill over when I least expected it.
All part of the process, of course. But when you’re actually in it, that is not always comforting. I remember wondering, sometimes out loud:
When will I get back into the universal flow again?
When will the spiritual things I need for my Journey manifest?
When will this heaviness lift?
I wasn’t asking in a demanding way, more like a child pressing her face against the window, looking out at life, feeling like everyone else was moving forward while I was sitting in slow motion. My faith never left, but it got very, very quiet.




