Beyond the Goodbye: Finding Peace and Purpose After Loss
Losing someone you love is perhaps the most profound silence we will ever experience. In the beginning, that silence feels overwhelming- like a void that’s unable to be filled. As time passes, we begin to realize it isn’t just a void, they left a legacy.
Finding peace isn’t about moving on or forgetting; it’s about transforming grief into a living tribute. We are all bound to experience the grief associated with losing someone, and no words can take away that pain, but if we can focus to what they gave us, it can help shift our perspective from what was taken to what remains.
Remembering some of the funny sayings my father would have, his quick wit, and his ability to “call it as he sees it”, are some of my favorite memories I keep with me whenever I think of my dad. My dad loved his grandchildren, and although he’d accuse me of being a tease, he absolutely loved to get my kids going, and he’d never miss an opportunity to play a prank or joke on them.
My father would call out an injustice, and it wouldn’t matter who it was, if he felt they were being unfair, they’d hear it from him. I remember the time he held the door open for someone at the local convenience store, and the person that walked in didn’t bother to say thank you or acknowledge him. After the man walked in, my father said “you’re very welcome your highness”. He didn’t care that the person was a local police officer. The officer got a chuckle out of it too and replied, “you’re absolutely right, thank you, I appreciate that.”
What I remember most about my dad was his advice. He wouldn’t sweat the small stuff, and he never held a grudge. He gave me one of the best pieces of advice I ever got, “holding onto a grudge hurts you most of all, it’s better to let it go”.
If you are walking through the silence of loss today, I encourage you to look for the “advice” your loved one left behind-not just the words they said, but the way they lived.
For me, peace looks like a “you’re welcome your highness” kind of boldness. It looks like a prank played on my kids at a family gathering. And, most of all, it looks like the freedom of a heart that refuses to hold a grudge. My dad may not be here to hold the door open anymore, but because of him, I know exactly how to walk through it with my head held high and a smile on my face.
