There are
countless articles on grief — some poetic, some clinical, others deeply
heartfelt. But when grief becomes your reality, none of them truly prepare you
for the weight it carries. The silence. The suddenness. The questions that keep
echoing: Why them? Why now? Why like this?
In trying to cope with grief
after losing three family members in six years, I’ve learned that nothing about
healing is simple — especially when the loss feels preventable.
Yes, you
read it right! 3 family members!
In the
past six years, I’ve lost three family members — one of them just one and a half month ago.
All three gone due to heart-related complications: one to a heart attack, two
to cardiac arrests. Each loss was devastating. But what cuts even deeper is
knowing they might have been preventable. Medical delays. Misjudgments.
Negligence. Even the doctors admitted: if things had been handled differently,
the outcomes might have changed.
That
knowledge doesn’t just break your heart — it unsettles your faith in the
systems meant to protect us. These weren’t just personal losses. They were
avoidable tragedies.
But this
post isn’t only about grief. It’s about what comes after — about learning to
live with loss, to carry the weight without letting it consume you. Because
while grief doesn’t end, life still expects us to move forward.
One And A Half Month Ago, I Lost My Uncle
It still feels recent, raw, and unreal.
I can still hear his voice — not from a memory long ago, but from that day in the hospital:
“It hurts so much...” he said, his voice full of pain.
“I’ll be okay, right?”
My heart shook in that moment.
I gathered every ounce of courage and replied,
“Yes, you’ll be fine...”
I meant it. I wanted it to be true. But deep down, I was terrified.
And now, even weeks later, those ICU walls still feel heavy.
Those last moments — the look in his eyes, the stillness in his body — they stay with me.
When Loss Feels Constant: Grieving Multiple Loved Ones:
It wasn’t just one goodbye. It was three. Three loved ones gone within six years, all due to heart complications.
And every time, I’ve asked the same question: Could
this have been prevented?
The answer, heartbreakingly, is yes.
And when you know that — when even professionals
admit mistakes were made — it makes the healing harder. You’re not just
mourning; you’re angry, confused, betrayed.
But I realized something in the midst of this storm: grief doesn’t end, but life still expects us to move forward.
Moving Forward ≠ Moving On
Let me be clear: moving forward doesn’t mean forgetting, or "getting over it," or replacing pain with forced positivity. It means learning to carry that pain differently, allowing yourself to feel joy again without guilt, and accepting that grief becomes a part of your story—but not the whole of it.
I won’t
lie, it’s hard. Some days, it feels impossible. But slowly, breath by breath,
it becomes bearable. And then, somewhere along the way, it becomes
transformative.
“Moving on” is a terrible phrase when it comes to grief. It implies you should erase the pain or pretend everything’s fine. That’s not how it works. Moving forward means learning to carry the loss in a way that doesn’t break you every day. It means allowing yourself to laugh again, to live again, while still honoring who you lost.
What Helped Me Start Healing After Loss:
Everyone’s journey is different, but here’s what helped me begin to move forward:
1. Letting Myself Feel Everything:
I stopped trying to be strong all the time. Some days, I cried. Some days, I didn’t speak. I screamed into pillows and let the emotions come — heavy, messy, honest. It was hard, but it was also freeing. Mourning deeply became a way of honoring how deeply I had loved.
2. Talking About It:
Whether through family, close friends, or writing, I talked. Suppressed grief doesn’t disappear; it only grows heavier. Letting it out gave it somewhere to go other than my heart. Saying things out loud, sharing memories, and processing guilt and anger — it was painful, but also a vital part of healing.
3. Bringing Routine Back:
Grief throws your life off balance, but routine helped me regain some rhythm. Eating on time, going outside, reading — small, steady habits that reminded me I was still here. Still alive. Still capable of healing. Even when I didn’t feel like it, these routines helped me remember that life still had structure.
4. Remembering Their Life, Not Just Their Death:
At first, all I could focus on was their loss. But over time, I started to remember more than just the hospital and funeral moments. I remembered their laughter, their quirks, their dreams — the fullness of who they were. Celebrating their life, not just mourning their death, brought me comfort and helped shift my perspective.
5. Being Kind to Myself:
Grief isn’t linear, and I had to learn that one good week didn’t mean I was done grieving, and one bad day didn’t mean I was back at zero. I gave myself permission to heal slowly, imperfectly, and honestly. And as hard as it was, I had to remind myself: I did what I could. I loved them while they were here, and that has to count for something.
To Anyone Who’s Grieving — and Trying to Move Forward
If you're still hurting, still waking up with a heaviness in your chest, still wondering if you’re healing “the right way” — I see you.
You don’t
have to rush.
You don’t
have to be “okay” all the time.
You don’t
need to prove anything to anyone.
You don’t
have to pretend.
And you
certainly don’t have to carry this burden alone.
But when
you’re ready — even if just a little — know this:
It’s okay to move forward.
It’s okay to smile again.
It’s okay to laugh without guilt.
It’s okay to live fully, even after deep loss.
Moving
forward doesn’t mean you’re leaving them behind.
It means carrying their love with you — into what comes next, into the life
they didn’t get to finish, but you still can.
You are not betraying their memory by healing.
You are honoring it.
And that, in itself, is the most powerful tribute of all.
Final Thoughts: Grief Changes You - Let It Make You Kinder
I will always carry these losses in my heart. They’ve shaped me, broken me, and slowly rebuilt me. But they've also made me more present. More loving. More intentional. I don’t see time the same way anymore. I hold people closer. I ask about their health more often. I say “I love you” without hesitation.
Grief
didn’t just leave a wound — it gave me perspective. Life is fragile — I’ve
learned that painfully well. But it’s also still beautiful.
So no, I
haven’t “moved on.” But I am moving forward. Not because the grief has ended,
but because I now know I can carry it differently. I can walk with it — and
still live fully.
If you're
reading this, I believe you can too.
Let’s not live in spite of our grief — but because of what it’s taught us.
Let’s live for them, and for ourselves.
Preeti
