They say grief is the great transformer. I never truly understood that – until now.
Grief cracked open a portal three months ago. Then, three weeks ago, it deepened—pulling me into another layer I didn’t know existed.
It’s not that I’ve not experienced grief in my life. The passing of my beloved Grandparents brought grief that’s never really left me. It’s been 24 years for Pop, 19 for Nan – and I still grieve their absence in my life. I grieved my first marriage and the broken dreams from 17 years together and my ‘forever’ not being so. My sons not having their father’s presence I still grieve, despite my peace with why they don’t. I’ve journeyed with grief as we all do in life, and yet it feels like unfamiliar territory, and I don’t have the guide map.
Grief has shown me its many different forms and depths, and that with it there is always shock. Perhaps that’s why they call it the great transformer – because of the shock that announces grief’s arrival, which for me literally bought me to my knees.
They say things happen in three’s and I admit that thought crossed my mind with the first grief portal three months ago. Such was the overwhelm and shock of that grief, I didn’t consider the idea again – until grief returned three weeks later, with explosive force.
I didn’t think grief could hurt more—until it took Mr Finnley from me. His sudden departure broke something in me that I didn’t know was still intact. For days, I couldn’t understand why the grief of losing our dog felt heavier than the grief of my husband leaving. But the answer came: it was unconditional love.
Unlike humans, animals love unconditionally with every ounce of their being and in doing so they imprint our hearts with pure love. Humans love deeply too, but it isn’t as pure as animals because it comes with expectations, judgments, challenges, boundaries and all our human qualities that restrict the purity of our love. Don’t get me wrong, it’s no lesser a love, it just comes with conditions that animals aren’t burdened by.
When the second wave hit, I remembered the saying that things come in threes. I brushed it aside—until a week later when grief knocked again, quietly, waiting in the wings. I’m not ready to face that one yet. But I know it waits.
Mr Finnley’s departure completely shattered my heart, broken even further and leaving me asking “What is the point?”, “Why him?”. I did what I needed to lay him to rest and then I jumped on a plane.
The trip was pre-planned, rescheduled once already, but I knew I desperately needed to get away from my life and the timing was no coincidence. I was lost, spiralling deeper into the portal of grief my husband had opened. Something in me knew I was being asked to befriend grief – to pause long enough to feel it, sit with it and meet it with an open heart. I sensed that through grief, I would find myself again.
I know my journey with grief will be for some time yet to come. I have accepted that, as I journey with its presence and the different ways it shows itself to me. In accepting its arrival, I have allowed myself grace and flow. I didn’t in the beginning, choosing action and distraction, adorning the defensive armour and mask of pretence to guard my broken heart.
It didn’t bode well for me. It levelled me. I was on the ground – emotionally, spiritually, physically. Panic attacks arrived in the worst places at the worst time because grief was not going to be ignored, silenced or go unfelt. Mr Finnley’s passing and his unconditional love made surrender to grief a choice beyond my control.
I am realising with grief that among the shock, despair, confusion, overwhelm and hurt there is also peace, clarity, hope and gratitude. The polarity has not been hidden, at times making me feel guilt for finding peace within the grief.
So here I sit with grief beside me guiding me deeper inward and asking me to keep my heart open. It has shown me what it means to love so deeply that absence becomes its own kind of presence. For that I am grateful. Whether or not grief is the great transformer, I cannot yet say. But I am changed. I am changing. And I know I will never be the same again.
Grief didn’t take me away from myself—it became the invitation to return. It’s shown me that it wasn’t loss that broke me, but the way I abandoned myself in search of love from others. Now, in the quiet company of grief, I’m learning to love myself the way I’ve always loved others—unconditionally. And in that, I’m finally coming home to my heart. My self.
