How Do You Survive Grief?
You Hack It, Honor It, and Keep Living Anyway.
Let’s be real — grief is brutal.
It’s like someone hands you a Rubik’s Cube with no solution and says, “Good luck, champ.”
But instead of colored squares, you’re wrestling memories, silence, and that gut-punch realization: they’re gone.
So how do you survive?
Spoiler: I’m still figuring it out — but here’s what I know.
Step 1: They’re Gone, But I Grow
Their laugh isn’t filling the room anymore. Their voice isn’t reminding me to drink water or look after myself.
And yet — I get up anyway.
Not because it’s easy. Not because grief gets lighter.
But because they would want me to grow, even in the wreckage.
It’s not pretty growth. It’s stubborn, messy, fueled by too much coffee and a quiet kind of rebellion.
It’s my way of waving at them from down here: “Still moving. Still loving you.”
Step 2: Death is Still Worthy of Love
They showed me something wild:
Death, as brutal as it is, still carries love.
The pain is proof that something huge existed — a love that didn’t die just because they did.
I’m not romanticizing loss. I’m saying: love doesn’t quit.
Even when everything else does.
Their absence made love louder.
That’s not a tragedy. That’s a legacy.
Step 3: Hack the Grief, Honor the Legacy
Grief doesn’t get to run the show.
I chip away at it — laugh at old stories, cry when I need to, and keep moving.
Not because moving on is betrayal.
Because moving forward is how I honor them.
Every step I take?
It’s a quiet, stubborn high-five to the life they didn’t get to keep living.
So I do.
I live. I trip. I laugh anyway.
I survive by making their memory louder than my fear.
You don’t “get over” grief.
You hack it.
You honor it.
You live through it — messy, fierce, and full of love.
Because they would want that.
And honestly?
So do I.