Faces of Grief 

Grief doesn’t always look like crying and missing the person (or whatever has died or ended that was deeply installed in your heart and life).

It can look like depression even though it isn’t. You might have no energy to do anything and not find joy in the things you were finding joy in. You may feel lackluster, empty, or low without a lot of feelings or expressing of yourself. 

Grief can feel like a raw searing loneliness. Like there’s a big gaping hole that once was filled with that person and your purpose with that person, place, thing or situation. This is a very specific type of loneliness. Loneliness that is the absence of what was.

If you’ve been a caregiver over a long period of time, then grief can feel like all the years you gave lead you away from the life you knew into a cave of survival. And that cave is gone too along with that person you gave it all to.

Greif is about the goneness and its many layers. How that affects you may not be typical to what we think grief might look like. Such as crying, wanting to talk about it or be with other people. Or in experiencing emotional longing for who or what is gone.

There can be a strange feeling where you don’t long for what is gone but you still feel that absence. That particular form of grief emptiness is an adjustment period.

A huge part of grieving is making space and honoring the transition from what has died into what is going to be reborn within yourself as a result. Death transforms you. Space is needed to process the end and that doesn’t mean mentally talking it through per se, it just means stillness and rest and time. 

Grief can be felt different every time. The grief I am experiencing with the death of my father first showed up in my body and I hadn’t experienced that before. My body got hurt and then it got sick because it needed me to stop doing everything. I had a hard time with that but I knew that surrendering was important.

Some grief is so big that the entire universe has to stop for there to be a grand sacred pause.

To honor the end for as long as it takes requires awareness, prioritizing, and self-care. Unfortunately most of us don’t have the privilege to take the kind of rest we need but even if you have to work full-time or more it might look like doing that and then doing absolutely nothing else for a period of time.

And it’s OK if you feel depressed or you don’t feel like talking to anyone. It’s not clinical depression and you will come out of it. Nobody knows what it’s like to grieve but yourself. We grieve alone, even if we’re grieving with family and friends because everyone grieves differently.

And what you need is what you need.

Maybe you need to write or paint or sing or dance or be alone or not be alone or eat all the treats or fast or take a vacation or cry your eyes out or wander around like a strange ghost not knowing who you are or couch rot, or some of the above or all of the above and everything else I’m not mentioning.

You might experience grief in agonizing waves or in gentle showers of tears or sorrow. Or you might find yourself in a daze. Spaced out. Forgetful. Detached. 

You might need to take time to remember. Going through old emails and texts and voice messages, letters and pictures.

If you surrender to how you feel and don’t judge yourself and don’t compare yourself, grief will be your guide. It will last however long it lasts and also grief lasts for the rest of your life. Sometimes.

Grief can get stuck if you don’t allow it to be present. When my mother died, grief got stuck inside of my father and he did fall into a seven year depression. He never came out out of. That is not the same thing as the period of time where you might think you’re depressed but really you’re just grieving.

How do you tell the difference?

If you are allowing grief to move through you then you are practicing self-awareness, self-love and taking time to listen and attune to what you need. When grief gets stuck you’re carrying on with life and avoiding yourself.

It takes patience, love and skill to be an aware human that doesn’t calcify from getting stuck by grief and life’s trials. But even if you do, that’s OK too. We are all at different points on the path. I say this because I give love to my father and where he was on the path.

As a healer, I am devoted to self-awareness self love, healing, and growing. Grief is a big part of anyone’s life journey. Learning how to grieve is a big part because we are not taught by our culture which does not support the grieving process beyond a funeral, flowers, and cards. And that might not be what you need to grieve at all. 

My intention in writing this blog is to share with you what I am learning. To help carve out space for you to get in touch with the grief you are experiencing. 

Grief wears many faces. May you allow yourself the time and ways that you need. May you also allow for the flow because grief ultimately needs flow, surrender and letting go.

I see you.

Dear Death

Dear Death,

You took my father last Saturday on January 17th, 2026 at 1:30 pm.

The last liquidy remnants gushed out like a waterfall from his lungs through the mouth and nose onto my hand lying over his heart. That was the moment you arrived in the ER room to bring him home. I watched his skin turn sort of blue as he gasped for air in his drowning lungs. There was one more gasp before his head dropped and his glazed distant eyes closed once and for all.

Finally, peace.

He only wanted to go to lunch and to return to his bed in memory care, where I walked in to find him during my usual morning routine time.

Every morning for the past fourteen months I have walked into his room to get him out of bed and onto the exercise machine in the little gym. After that he would have a banana in the lobby. I would walk him for a lap with his walker before we would finish our routine with a the vitamin and electrolyte water I made him to drink after brushing his teeth and washing his hands. This was our sacred time. I would ask him the same questions while he drank down his liquids. What’s your favorite color, drink, food, etc. What year is it, what city is he living in, etc. I committed myself to being there every morning since we brought him up to Seattle.

But it’s been much longer than that, Death. It’s been since you took my mom in 2019. That is when my devotion began. With sister as my partner, she became his dad and I became his mom.

When you took mom home, dad died inside and never recovered. So sister and I slowly took over the logistics and care of his life, allowing him to stay in the house he lived in for over twenty years. All of my vacation time was with him, in the house that felt like a tomb since mom died. He only wanted to hold on and have everything stay the same.

We did our best to give him what he wanted for five years until his first fall that led to assisted living in Vegas and the second fall that brought him close to me. Long story short, Death, he has been the center of my Universe for seven years. I have not taken a vacation. I have not followed my own rhythms. I made the choice to sacrifice and I built my life around caretaking him.

You know my voice well because I have been calling out to you for years. You collect the calls from those who have loved-ones in memory care units because it is truly that difficult and sad. You could create a symphony from our voices. And you know it’s not anything bad, how we call to you crying. You know it is a form of love. You know it’s the system that is messed up. That grace does not always look like the body staying alive. The you can also be the grace.

I have no shame. I am an advocate of love.

I watched dad’s body persist as his heart sunk into depression and his soul and mind took a backseat. I grieved him long before you took him home. I have been grieving him for years. I became a master of grieving. My body eroding, my heart enduring. It always felt like too much but I came to accept that. Love must accept everything not just the easy and bright stuff.

I am no saint. Nobody is a saint except the saints. I won’t pretend to be selfless and pure. I sacrificed out of love and it tore me to pieces and I live with no regret. Tragedy is tragedy. Hard is hard. I am glad I did it and deep down I understood you would take him according to his destiny, not my own and that somehow our destinies were intertwined.

And you did. At 1:30 pm with my hand over his heart after five hours of watching him aspirate. The trauma of those five hours. Of making him go to the hospital. The entire time the dementia having him say over and over, “I want to spend time with my daughter”, “leave”, “I’m fine”, “I want to go back to my room”, “I want to go to lunch”.

Through all of the coughing and liquids coming out, the relentlessness of dementia and suffering persisted until finally, toward the very end he said in his only lucid moment, “I can’t take it anymore”.

That is when they finally gave him morphine. Because finally a doctor with heart intervened and understood. Wasn’t afraid. Wasn’t trying to force. He was attuned.

That doctor took me aside and sat me down and got on the level. That doctor ordered the machines to be shut off and for dad to be able to take a few last bites of food because he wanted my father to have what he wanted and to have peace at the end. That doctor was an angel in disguise.

I was advocating my ass off but I did not have the authority the doctor had. Words will never express my gratitude.

Death, you came all of the sudden. Out of the blue. You snuck in on a Saturday and decided we first needed to explode into crisis. Dad’s signature move, one more time. The fourth and final crisis.

He demanded the nurse take the oxygen tube out of his nose after she administered the morphine and there I was, suddenly alone with him in the room, hand over his heart, telling him to go into the light on repeat like a mantra.

The medication finally stopped his suffering and allowed his body to relax and let go. And you granted my deepest wish, to be with him when you took him home. My soul wanted more than anything for him not to die alone.

You have given dad and me the greatest gift, Death. You are just as much life as birth is life. The soul comes in and the soul exits earth school and you are the one who leads the soul back to its origin. You are natural. You are love.

I took the Seiko watch off his hand, still warm, but no longer animated by the soul. Took it to a watch repair to remove a link. The watch was working great when I dropped it off and continues to work great on my wrist, yet when I picked it up from the shop at 5 pm, the time read 1:30 pm. A glaring sign.

And I finally was able to contact dad after three days. He was in his life review, realizing everything he did to cause hurt, making peace, seeing what he still needed to learn. I could feel his soul without the human suit, akin to Spock from Star Trek. Now I know he is safe and healing on the spirit side.

It takes time for the human grieving and for the soul on the other side. It just takes time. We are all on the path…

Death, I love you and I will see you again. I consider you a teacher and a friend. Thank you for the mercy you gave me and my dad.

Love,

Michelle