Part 5: The Quiet Weight of Grief

Last week, we talked about loneliness, the kind that sneaks up on you, even when you’re surrounded by people. If you missed that one, you might want to go back and read it [here]. It was powerful and addressed things that aren’t often discussed. We explored how loneliness often comes from feeling misunderstood, overlooked, or unappreciated, not always about being by yourself. That could be the case, but it’s not the only version of loneliness.

There’s something else that’s not often addressed that I want to discuss this week, we’re going even deeper into loneliness. This time we will talk about the absences.

Because there’s a certain kind of loneliness that’s heavier than just being left out of the conversation. It’s the kind that comes from grief. From loss. From knowing that someone who used to be there, isn’t anymore. And the older you get, the more it happens.

It starts with the elders; your parents, aunts, uncles. People you expected to lose at some point. You brace for it. You do your best to prepare. But even when it’s expected, the loss still stings. Still lingers. Still changes things. Then it starts hitting closer.

A cousin from your mom’s side and then one from your dad’s side. One you hadn’t talked to in years, but now that they’re gone, you regret not checking in. Then the cousin who was like a sister. Then your actual sister. Then your neighbor. Then someone from church who was always there suddenly isn’t. And before you know it, there’s a funeral every month.

You dress for it automatically. You go through the routine and you say all the polite words. But your spirit? It’s worn out. Not just from the losses themselves, but from what those losses leave behind—a different world. A quieter one. A lonelier one.

It’s Not Just Sadness. It’s Fatigue.

Grief doesn’t always look like crying every day. Sometimes it’s silent. Numbness. The feeling of staring at a wall and not knowing how long you’ve been doing it. You’re not falling apart, but you’re definitely not yourself.

You’re tired, but not from a lack of sleep. You’re tired because you’ve been strong for so long. You’ve held so much. You’ve kept going when the world around you kept getting smaller. And nobody really talks about how hard that is.

This Isn’t the Life You Imagined

You always told yourself, “Once the kids grow up, I’ll travel. I’ll relax. I’ll finally do all the things I’ve put off.”

But now, you’re not so sure. Because the people you imagined doing those things with? Some of them aren’t here. And the grief you carry? It’s changed your excitement into hesitation. Your peace into restlessness. Your hope into something harder to access.

And then the regrets creep in.

Maybe you feel like you should’ve reached out more. Traveled sooner. Spoken your mind while you had the chance. Maybe you’ve postponed your own joy for so long that you’re not sure how to claim it anymore.

But those regrets aren’t meant to haunt you. They’re meant to fuel you. They’re reminders that you’re still here. And as long as you’re here, there’s still time. There are events every week in the Bronzecomm Newsletter that you could attend. There are people who would enjoy your company if you could just get yourself out the house or invite someone over.

You Deserve to Feel Alive Again

This part is important. Because grief can convince you that your joy is gone for good. But your joy is still here. It’s just buried under the weight of everything you’ve lost.

Grief makes you forget who you were before the loss. But if you give yourself permission to remember—and reconnect—you’ll see that joy and sorrow can live in the same body. You can laugh again without dishonoring who or what you’ve lost.

And you can start again without feeling like you’ve forgotten. Don’t let the people you loved fade into silence. Find someone to talk to about them. Or write about them. Or light a candle and say, “I still carry you with me.”

And if you feel like you’ve lost a piece of yourself? Go find it.

You’re Not Too Old to Begin Again

If you’ve been feeling disconnected, take a step. Call someone who sees you. Find a new group of people who are going through the same things you are. I know it seems strange to start something new at this stage in life, but it’s not. It can be healing. Even freeing.

Let yourself be witnessed by people who understand. Who support you. Who don’t need you to be strong all the time.

Because one thing we haven’t talked about enough is the loneliness that comes from grief. Many of your friends and loved ones have passed on. You miss them. You mourn them. And no, they can’t be replaced. But their memory can be honored. And shared.

Even though grief can change your life, it doesn’t have to shrink it. You deserve more than just being useful. You deserve to feel alive. To feel seen. And have that fun you’ve been putting off. Take the 10-steps mapped out in the Control the Controllable meditation series to get the mental and emotional weight under control. Take it one day at a time. Each audio exercise is only 15-minutes long, but could give you inspiration to last the entire day. Get yourself into a new rhythm and a new tribe. And you’ll find you’re creating a new chapter.

Be seen. Be heard. Be appreciated. Be the you that you told yourself you’d be one day. You’re still here. And that matters more than you know. In fact, your presence is not just valuable — it’s needed. You’ve lived, learned, endured, and overcome. And now you have something powerful to offer: perspective.

One way to honor that wisdom is to share it.

Mentor someone. Or simply connect with a few younger friends who are trying to figure out what you’ve already been through. Everyone is looking for connection these days, just like you are. There’s a younger woman or man who could benefit from your personality, your presence, and your perspective. Share yourself. You may find the reciprocity refreshing. Even healing. It might just give you a bit of your spark back.

Let me tell you something that changed my life.

On my 40th birthday, I asked my friends to bring me a card with the best advice they’d ever received or the advice they wished someone had given them. I got some thoughtful responses, but one stood out the most.

My friend Sara Bean wrote:
“I wish someone would’ve told me to get younger friends. I figured it out the hard way, so I’m telling you now. Keep younger people around you, because as your friends start passing away, you’ll still have a community around you.”

That stuck with me. So I took her advice. And I’m glad I did.

Now I’m passing it on to you.

It’s not too late to make new connections. It’s not too late to be part of a community that sees you, values you, and wants to learn from you. Start small, but start. Because your life isn’t over. Your joy isn’t over. Your impact isn’t over.

You’re still here.

And there’s more life for you to live.