Content note: This post mentions death, grief, and caregiving. Please take care while reading. Pause if you need to and tend to your heart.
Grief has a way of softening us — even when it feels like it’s breaking us apart.
These past few weeks, as you may know, I’ve been sitting softly with caregiver grief — navigating the changing scenery of life since mum passed away.
My Story: When Grief Began to Soften
In this reflection, I share a personal moment of release—a poem born from an early-morning meditation—that illustrates how grief morphs, shifts, and shapes in our bodies and occupies uncharted territories in our hearts and minds.
It’s an invitation to meet our losses with tenderness and acceptance and to make time for self-care in our healing journey.
A dear friend from my Yoga Nidra teacher training recently shared a contemplative practice that guided us into sensing the body’s deeper layers.
Truth be told, when I came to practise his offering, I forgot my “beginner’s mind”, casually pressed play, and settled into the practice.
I wasn’t prepared for what surfaced.
As I listened in the early stillness of morning, tears came out of nowhere, full, surprising, and ultimately cleansing.
My body froze, recalling the agony of the last few months.
Drawing on my years of dedicated meditation practice, I recognised what was happening.
While I didn’t “welcome the experience”, I saw the tears as a “good sign”—an opportunity to be kind to myself, to breathe softness and compassion into my body, and to let the tears cleanse and wash away my fears.
As I sat with the pain and discomfort, memories of my mum arose, and with them, a longing to be near her.
On impulse, I found the email with the link to Mum’s funeral service recording and watched it; something I hadn’t been ready to do until that moment.
From the warmth and cosiness of my bed, surrounded by cherished ornaments, I smiled through tears as I saw the familiar faces on the screen, gathering at the church and burial ground, and I hummed along to the hymns.
I bathed in the memory of the kindness, care and love my family and I received throughout Mum’s Alzheimer’s journey and the care that held us that day.
Surprisingly, as I watched the service replay, my heart felt light and happy, as if something had shifted and deep inside had reintegrated.
Healing Words for Your Heart
After that early morning meditation experience, I journaled, and these words came to me.
A poem, really — a release.
I share it with you now, in case it brings a little companionship, maybe some closure, and insight into your own tender journey of grief and loss.
Grief Sucks
Grief sucks.
It drains your life away, leaving you hollow —
a fractured shell of yourself.
Grief sucks.
It takes you to paths untrodden, forgotten,
erased from the windows of your heart
to golden pastures never sown.
Grief sucks, yet within all of that —
the tragedy that life passed you by,
the broken dreams, misplaced promises,
the what-ifs, shoulds, coulds, dos
come home to rest
as you take the next breath
and begin to live life again.
This time,
no half-truths, no denials of justice —
just good, old-fashioned moments
of love, hope, joy,
and acceptance
that you are alive
and life beckons you
to come forth and live again.
Dear gentle reader, if you, too, are walking through grief or tending any loss, may my reflective poem “Grief Sucks” remind you that there is no rush.
Healing isn’t about moving on — it’s about allowing life to move through you, gently, one word, one breath at a time.
Gentle Self-Care for Caregivers in Grief
If you are a caregiver or grieving a loved one, may you find comfort and practical support in my other articles in this mini-series on grief and loss.
They offer practical advice, personal insights, and self-care strategies that have been helpful on my own healing journey.
You can read them here.
When Caregiving Ends: Lessons in Grief, Breath, and Gentle Rest
Small Self-Care Practices That Helped Me Look After Myself While Caring for My Mum
As we know, losing someone we love is part of life.
A part that shifts our reality and perception of life.
I am learning that grief is a process; learning to live again, to feel whole and alive and recommit to living takes time.
A core part of our healing is to allow our minds and bodies to rest, nourish ourselves, and let love soften our hearts and reclaim our lives.
You’re Not Alone
Remember, self-care, receiving support, and remembrance are not linear indulgences but circular, wholesome parts of your healing journey.
If you are mourning the loss of a loved one, I invite you to consider lighting a small candle and gently reading these 15 self-care affirmations.
The affirmations are designed to offer hope, self-care and comfort during this difficult time.
These tiny acts, rituals of remembrance, can, with love and self-kindness, become doorways to peace, guiding us safely and steadily through our grief and loss.
Until next time, dear gentle heart, thank you for taking the time to read these words, and may you find comfort in small moments of peace.
With gratitude and love
