Grief is not always loud. It does not always wear black or carry flowers. Sometimes it shows up unannounced, quiet and unrelenting, settling beside you in the most ordinary moments—pouring your morning coffee, folding a shirt, driving past a familiar street. It doesn’t knock. It doesn’t ask. It just arrives—and stays.
We often treat grief as a season, something with a beginning and an end. Something we’ll “get through.” But for many, grief is not a season—it is a companion. Uninvited. Inconvenient. Yet profoundly human.
The Unexpected Guest
You didn’t ask grief to sit at your table. You never imagined it would accompany you into the holidays, the milestones, or the quiet evenings when everything looks the same but nothing feels familiar. It changes your taste for life. It dulls color, steals appetite, and whispers reminders of what used to be.
But grief is not just pain. It is proof that love once lived in your life in a real and powerful way.
Becoming Familiar with the Unfamiliar
In time, grief becomes part of your rhythm. You learn to breathe beside it. You start to distinguish its shadows. It doesn’t go away, but it changes form. It no longer shouts. It sighs. It no longer paralyzes. It walks beside you, quietly.
And strangely, you begin to understand that your healing does not require its disappearance. Healing and grief coexist. You can laugh and cry on the same day. You can feel hope and ache in the same breath. Grief does not disqualify you from joy; it deepens your capacity for it.
Grief Is Not the Enemy
We often demonize grief—rush it, silence it, numb it. But grief is not the enemy. Grief is a teacher. It reveals how deeply we were connected, how wide our hearts can stretch, and how much room we still carry for love.
It teaches compassion. It sharpens empathy. It strips away the shallow and reminds us what really matters. It softens us toward others who are also carrying unseen burdens.
Grief is a companion, yes—but it is also a mirror. It reflects your humanity, your depth, and your capacity to keep living, even when everything inside you feels broken.
An Invitation, Not an End
This week, consider what it might mean to sit with grief—not as a problem to fix, but as a companion with something to say. What if you stopped resisting and started listening? What if grief could become not your enemy, but your guide?
It will not always walk this closely. But while it does, let it remind you that your capacity to hurt is directly connected to your capacity to love. That’s not weakness. That’s your strength.
Selah Moment with Dr. Althea Winifred
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