What grief has taught me about living
On loss, lessons and living forward
Last year, I lost my father.
For some of you, this may be the first time you’re hearing it. The truth is—I’ve been grieving in quiet, restless waves. I’ve questioned God endlessly. Why do bad things happen to good people? No answer has come yet. But if it ever does, I promise I’ll pass it on.
There are weeks I barely sleep. Days when the weight in my chest make even sunlight feel too loud. I lean into the grief anyway, because I know now it won’t drown me forever. It ebbs and flows, and with it, I breathe intentionally.
After he passed, I made a difficult decision: I began reading through his journals. The leather covers felt strangely warm, the pages worn at the edges from years of folding and unfolding secrets. Some days, I’d start reading and immediately stop, overwhelmed by the ache of his absence. Other days, I’d laugh out loud at a sarcastic note he scribbled in the margins. He was always quick-witted, sometimes brutally so.
My dad dreamed big. And he didn’t just dream, he acted. It’s been humbling to witness, page after page, how many of his prayers were answered before his time ran out. He was ambitious, audacious, and deeply misunderstood. The so called black sheep of the family but never a man who saw himself as less because of it.
Grief has taught me lessons I never asked for.
Life’s beauty is revealed when we surrender control. Real presence means letting go of judgment and soaking in what simply is. The mundane, the magical, the in-between.
No one is the sum of their worst days. We point fingers. We compete. We forget that underneath our flaws, we all crave the same things: to be seen, loved, understood.
Fear is persuasive but not prophetic. Lately I whisper to myself: “Feel the fear and do it anyway.” It’s not bravery. It’s belief in something on the other side of that fear.
Trauma reshapes the way we move in the world. It builds walls. It makes survival feel like the only option. But healing begins when we learn that emotions flow like a river.
Self-compassion is a daily decision. My father knew his flaws well and still chose to grow past them. When we misstep, the real power lies in reflection not self-punishment.
People-pleasing will ruin anyone. I was raised with the phrase “What will people say?” and for too long, it ruled me. It made me stay in situations that i could have walked out of, made me choose things because I wanted to be seen, chosen and accepted. As I learn to move better in this world, I understand that being a good person doesn't mean staying in bad places to prove anything.
Grief gives me clarity. And with it, I offer you this reminder: Live authentically. Not for applause. Not for permission. Just… for you.
Journaling prompts you can try too.
In what ways am I still trying to please others at the expense of my truth?
If I could speak to fear like a person, what would I say?
What’s the best grieving lesson you can pass on?
Love and Light 💚
Khadijah