Life After Loss: The Sacred Work of Healing Without Rushing
A Thriving Changes Reflection Inspired by Rachael Stewart
When my cousin Dimpy passed away from cancer, something in me cracked open.
We had recently relocated to the US, and I hadn’t yet found my footing, let alone a community. The grief of losing her collided with a deep sense of isolation. I was far from everything familiar - my friends, extended family, the cultural rhythms that used to anchor me. And now, without her, I felt untethered.
It’s strange how grief can amplify loneliness. I was surrounded by people - neighbors, coworkers, friendly smiles but I felt utterly alone. Like I was carrying something invisible that no one could see.
When I spoke with Rachael Stewart on a recent episode of Thriving Changes, her words stirred something familiar in me - not a wound, but a scar. A healed place. A space I once had to fight to reclaim.
“Life still holds meaning, value, and impact, even when we choose not to push ourselves past our limits,” she said.
And I knew exactly what she meant.
You Don’t Have to Push to Prove You Matter
In those early days of grief, I kept trying to stay busy. I filled my days with to-do lists and distractions, telling myself that staying productive would help me move on. But underneath it all, I was unraveling.
Eventually, I stopped running. I gave myself permission to grieve. I let myself cry when I needed to, even if it was in the middle of folding laundry. I started to understand that grief isn’t something you conquer - it’s something you learn to carry.
You don’t have to perform strength to be strong.
You don’t have to push past your limits to be valuable.
Looking back, I’m grateful I chose to pause. I gave myself permission to slow down. I let go of expectations. And somehow, I found myself again - not in the hustle, but in the quiet.
Try this: Redefine what success looks like in your current season. Let “rest,” “healing,” or “presence” count as worthy outcomes. Because they are.
Let Grief Shape You - Not Define You
“Loss is a part of life. It shapes us… but it doesn’t mean life can’t still be good.” – Rachael Stewart
Dimpy was more than a cousin to me - she was family, a sister, a friend, a confidant, a source of warmth and laughter. Losing her left a space nothing else could fill.
But over time, something surprising happened. The sadness stopped being so sharp. The memories became softer. I started noticing how her presence lived on in me - in the way I encouraged others, in the way I showed up for people in pain, in the way I started to live more fully because she no longer could.
And now, years later, something beautiful is unfolding: I’m deepening my bond with her daughter and granddaughter. Spending time with them has brought a sense of full-circle healing. Sometimes we share stories about Dimpy. Other times, we simply play, laugh, or sit in quiet connection. In those moments, I feel her legacy - not just in memory, but alive in relationship.
Try this: If you’re navigating change or loss, start a reflection journal. Use prompts like:
What have I learned about what truly matters to me?
How am I different and what do I want to do with that difference?
What part of me is asking to be seen now?
Faith Carries You When Fear Tries to Lead
“Choose to walk with faith.”
There were days after Dimpy’s death when I felt unmoored - like I was drifting through a fog I couldn’t name. Faith, in those moments, didn’t look like certainty. It looked like the quiet decision to believe that healing was possible, even when I couldn’t feel it yet.
Over time, I found that faith wasn’t about having all the answers. It was about trusting that I didn’t have to walk alone. That something bigger - God, purpose, love - was still holding me.
Try this: Practice a grounding breath prayer. Breathe in, “I am held,” and breathe out, “even when I don’t see the way.” Repeat for a few minutes whenever fear begins to rise. Faith doesn’t always need words - it sometimes just needs stillness.
Let Yourself Be Supported - Even After the Storm
“Grief deceives us into thinking we must bear it alone.”
For most of my young adult years, I was doing life in isolation. Life experiences made me realize that it wasn’t a healthy choice. We are wired for connection, necessary for our well-being and even survival. I didn’t want to do this alone. Having support during difficult time aids in the process of healing and adapting to loss. Support can come in different forms…sometimes, it’s a warm meal delivered to your doorstep, a friend who sits with you in silence, or a group of people who’ve walked a similar road and simply nod when you speak.
I was experiencing a mirage of emotions - angry, shock, sadness, desperation, confused, disbelief and at times, numbness. Looking back, I’m glad I sought therapy in the early stages. Therapy helped me process her loss and finally brought me to a place of acceptance. It helped me find meaning surrounding her loss, the ‘why’ to every stage. ‘Finding meaning’ is deeply personal. Each of us has a unique lens to the loss. It is shaped by our experiences, perspectives, and worldview. It helped me forgive, accept what is, move forward in my grief and become unstuck.
Even after grief passes, community remains essential. We’re wired for connection, for shared experience, for care that continues even when the crisis is over.
Try this:
Make a list of your people - those you can lean on when life gets heavy again.
Reach out, not just in pain, but in joy too. Let support be a rhythm, not a rescue.
Let others into your healing process. You don’t have to carry it all alone.
Rediscover What Lights You Up
For a long time after Dimpy passed, everything felt muted. The things I used to enjoy - music, cooking, long walks just didn’t spark the same joy. But little by little, I began to follow my curiosity again.
I signed up for an art class. I went for long walks in our local forest preserve with headphones blaring my favorite songs. I started laughing again - really laughing - with my son, with new friends, even alone in the kitchen. Those small sparks…they were proof that life could still be good.
Taking the time to explore different experiences helps us rediscover what lights our fire.
And now, I don’t wait for permission to pursue curiosity. I follow it.
Challenge: For the next 30 days, try one new thing each week.
You might:
Take a class you’ve always wanted to take
Rediscover an old hobby or sport you enjoyed playing
Visit a new café alone and bring a journal
Sign up for a course that scares you just a little
Joy doesn’t have to be loud. It just has to be yours.
Closing Thoughts: You Are the Proof
Rachael’s words reminded me of what I now know to be true:
That life can still hold beauty - even after loss.
That healing is not about returning to who you were but becoming who you’re meant to be.
That community, curiosity and faith can slowly piece you back together - if you let them.
Watching Dimpy’s granddaughter giggle as she runs into my arms, or seeing her daughter open up over a cup of chai, I’m reminded that loss doesn’t always lead to emptiness. Sometimes, it makes space for new, sacred connections.
You don’t have to be in crisis to reflect.
You don’t have to be fully healed to move forward.
Wherever you are in your journey - whether you’re just beginning to breathe again or learning to laugh out loud - you’re not behind. You’re not broken.
And you’re certainly not done becoming.
Much love,
