You can never truly fathom what grief feels like until you lose someone close to you.
For me, loss did not come abruptly. It began with a rare diagnosis for my dad: Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS), a progressive nervous system disease that affects nerve cells in the brain and spinal cord, which gets worse from the point of diagnosis onwards.
The year 2025 was the toughest year my family and I have ever experienced. Shortly after his diagnosis, Dad was admitted to the Intensive Care Unit (ICU).
At the time, we had no idea just how much of a marathon we were about to run.
There were hospital bills to raise, morning, afternoon and evening trips to the hospital, family and doctor consultations late into the evenings, the beginning of therapy sessions, and emotional meltdowns as each member of the family processed the situation differently.
Even the strongest among us eventually felt the pain, fatigue and exhaustion. I could barely concentrate, even on the things I love, such as mentoring and storytelling. Eventually, I had to request time off work.
That season taught me to have authentic conversations and, more importantly, to practise what I had known for years but had never truly practised: Ask for help.
Communicate clearly about your state of mind and the support you need to get through your responsibilities.
Allow your friends, community, colleagues and tribe to hold space for you.
Allow your emotions to flow. Sit with them. Acknowledge them.
Dad rested after battling for seven months in the ICU. And in many ways, I had battled alongside him, we all did. Watching him lose his ability to speak, followed by his ability to write, crushed every fibre of my being.
Imagine having a loved one with unfinished stories to tell, but no way of telling them. Imagine the sorrow in their eyes. Imagine the mind games—the endless what-ifs and maybes.
After Dad passed, I spent time sitting with myself and reflecting on my own life alongside the way he had lived his. One thing became incredibly clear to me: Dad had used his gifts, talents and abilities to the fullest. He was a great Master of Ceremonies and an exceptional chair of meetings, with a powerful and commanding voice.
Although he had not experienced much love while growing up, he learned how to heal and how to love his family in the best way he knew how. His life reminded me that our gifts are not given to us merely to possess. They are given to us to use.
Because I, too, had been blessed with a powerful voice, I chose to enroll in a voice-over coaching class in honour of his memory. Four months after his burial, I proudly graduated as a voice-over artist. For me, that was more than a qualification. It was one small step forward in my grieving process.
I also challenged myself to mentor one young person and I successfully walked with that young person through the season. In my own small way, I was choosing to keep giving, even while learning how to live with my loss.
Today, as I celebrate my birthday, I am reminded that this is one of the many firsts: my first birthday without Dad. The emotions are still heavy. But I choose to take solace in what I still have: a loving mum and amazing siblings who took the time to sing for me and surprise me with simple gestures that made my birthday more than special.
And perhaps that is another lesson grief has taught me: even in the presence of profound loss, there can still be reasons to be grateful.
To anyone grieving any kind of loss, whether the loss of a loved one, a job, a relationship, a dream or a season of life, please allow yourself to sit with your emotions.
Acknowledge what you feel.
Cry if you must.
Rest when you need to.
You do not have to rush your healing.
But as you grieve, do not forget that better days will come.
You will smile again.
You will feel lighter again.
The sun will rise again.
And it becomes a little easier when you remember that there is a community that loves you and is willing to show up for you. So, let them.
Personally, I remain deeply grateful to the amazing souls who showed up for my family and me. You held us in prayer, supported us financially, gave your time, shared your knowledge, and helped us navigate one of the most difficult seasons of our lives.
I will never take that kindness for granted.
One way I hope to honour it is by paying it forward and supporting others who may one day find themselves in a similar season. Where proximity allows, I will show up physically. Where it does not, I will show up by sharing my story, my lessons and my experiences, in the hope that someone else will feel a little less alone.
To my family, thank you for being my greatest pillar. You are the best family I could ever have asked God for, and He chose perfectly! I love you deeply and trust God for our collective healing, as we continue honouring Dad’s memory in how we live life.
#HealingAfterLoss #FindingPurpose #Emotional Intelligence #ProcessingEmotions #NewBegginings
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Photo credit: Images provided by the storyteller.
