As I write this, my family is in the depths of grief.  We recently lost a beautiful young member of our family who could not have been stronger or more positive in her battle against cancer. I ache thinking of the pain that her siblings must feel losing their beautiful sister, the pain that her husband must feel losing his soul mate, the pain her mother and father must feel losing their daughter. I think of her young son, and the emptiness he must feel.

I know that emptiness.

Dealing with the loss of a loved one is never easy—actually, it’s downright awful. It is one of the most painful parts of life, and the hardest part is that it is inevitable. It’s going to happen to all of us at some point, and it is going to happen to those that we love, too. But it’s easier to pretend it’s not, because the pain and the fear of losing others or not knowing what’s next is just too unbearable.

I say all of this from personal experience. When I was 11, I lost my father to cancer. It was the most devastating pain that I have ever felt. His death has always been a “before and after” point in my life…in my family’s life.

Nothing was ever the same again.

After my father died, we didn’t laugh like we used to. We didn’t celebrate holidays or birthdays for some time. We just stopped all real communication with each other. It took us a long, long time to feel a sense of connection or any kind of joy again. We kind of separated from each other for many years—not necessarily physically, but emotionally we lost our connection—and we fell into our own ways of dealing with the loss. It wasn’t until many years later that we came back together again—this time as different people; a different family.

And now that it has happened again—and I see my family and loved ones suffering—it brings back those feelings: all of the pain of that first experience with grief comes back and the memories are still quite clear.

I remember the moment we heard that it was over . . . that my father was gone. It was extremely silent; a strange kind of silence. I remember feeling sad but peaceful, knowing that the struggle was over. My father was done suffering; he was at peace. As painful as that was to accept, it helped me to know that he was finally going to be relieved of the pain he had been dealing with.

But, of course, other strong emotions soon followed: the “What’s next?” feeling and “How are we ever going to live without him?”. And often, the final, painful reminder that “I’m never going to see him again”. That’s when the pain hits you like a freight train.

I was reminded of this pain again with the more recent loss in our family. As upset and irrational as my thoughts become, and as the fears creep in telling me that death is lurking around every corner, and can happen any minute—my inner wisdom tells me to look back on the times when I have grieved before and contemplate what I have learned and what I can learn now.

I know it’s extremely difficult, in this physical realm, to see death as anything other than a horrible loss. But thinking about what can be learned—and what can be gained—in this time of loss may be the only way to make sense of death in our lives.

Here’s what I have learned from my experience with death and grieving. I hope it will help you if you’re dealing with a similar loss right now.

It Cultivated my Spiritual Journey.

When I reflect back to my father’s death, I believe that it ended up being a great time of spiritual awakening for me. It was the first time I began to search for answers about life, read spiritual books, and absorbed as much as I could to help deal with the feelings that I was having. Since that time, I have not stopped on my quest to find the meaning in life, and I am constantly searching for tools to help me look at things from different perspectives. I believe this is why I have been driven to find purpose and to help other people find purpose in their lives.

It Made Me Grateful.

Losing a loved one is an incredibly painful experience—but you also suddenly realize how many things in your life you are blessed with, and you remember to be grateful for those things. When my father passed away, I remember being thankful that I still had my wonderful mother, who still amazes me with the strength that she possessed. I still can’t believe how she stayed so strong after losing her husband. She had six kids—from middle school to college—and she continued caring for us, never giving up. Today, I think about how grateful I am to have a loving husband and beautiful daughter, and I try to absorb every beautiful moment that we have together.

It Brought Me Clarity.

When tragedy strikes, it suddenly shifts your perspective on what is really important in your life. You can see the big picture—you realize that the small things you worry about are actually pretty meaningless. You start to realize that life is short; you need to live how you want to live, and nurture relationships with the people that you love. You begin to grateful for all the little moments that you can share together.

It Taught Me to Feel the Pain.

As hard as it was to allow the pain of loss to take over my body, it eventually felt better to feel every bit of it. To resist the pain will only cause more pain to show up somewhere else in your life, and make it harder to resolve. I learned to allow the pain to move through my body—in waves, as it often does—and just let the tears or the anger or whatever it may be run its course. I learned to “observe” the pain, instead of fighting it, to feel it completely. Only then could it be released.

It Allowed me to Stay in the Present Moment.

Experiencing such incredible loss taught me to truly appreciate the present moment. It is all we really have, isn’t it? The past and the future are only part of our minds; the present is where everything is. Knowing that helps me to stay in the moment and appreciate what I am doing or what I have or the people I am sharing it with right now.

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I hope these insights help, whether you are grieving or not. I promise you there is true wisdom to be found in this kind of pain.

“Birth is not a beginning; death is not an end. There is existence without limitation; there is continuity without a starting point. Existence without limitation is space. Continuity without a starting point is time. There is birth, there is death, there is issuing forth, there is entering in. That through which one passes in and out without seeing its form, that is the Portal of God.”

-Taoism. Chuang Tzu 23

*This is dedicated to my cousin, Mitzi Frank. I commend her for the strength and courage she had during her journey in this life, and know that she is now at peace.*