What Sudden Loss Taught Me About Life
Sudden loss hits like an earthquake. There's no warning, no preparation, no time to say goodbye. One moment someone is woven into the fabric of your daily life, and the next—there's a hole in the world where they used to be. Not a slow fade, not a chapter closing. Just... silence.
It changes how you view everything—relationships, time, even your sense of control. It introduces a kind of fear-laced grief: If it happened once, it could happen again. And this fear can be all-consuming, taking over your thoughts and emotions.
Two years ago, I lost a best friend tragically. I was not only devastated, but also confused and angry.
“She was just here. I just spoke to her the other day. How is she no longer here? This doesn’t make any sense!”
I became so hypervigilant of everything around me. I experienced just how much trauma can catapult anxiety–and our bodies latch onto that trauma relentlessly if we don’t process through it.
I was in shock. I felt weird. I felt…numb…I struggled through symptom after symptom after symptom…and all I want, today, is to talk to her…but she’s already been gone for two whole years. TWO years?
I am still processing through the grief. The thing about grief is that you never really get to prepare. Even if you know that a grandparent is on their last stretch, it’s still hard to fully prepare yourself for grief. You just…react.
You break, you numb, you wake up weeks, or years, later still expecting to see them.
Honestly, I do not think time heals all wounds. Time doesn’t heal. Time just reshapes the pain. This past year for me was the toughest. Grief ate me up. Everything felt like an uphill battle. My therapist reminded me session after session that grief isn’t linear.
I don’t feel better two years later—I feel different. Less numb. More aware. The sharpness of the grief has softened in some places, but in others, it’s deeper. More specific. Like I finally understand what I lost, and what it meant.
Here are some eye-opening truths I learned about sudden loss:
You don’t get to prepare. I remember a friend telling me: You can fully prepare yourself for anything but it’s impossible to ever be fully prepared. With sudden loss, you just... react. You feel. You break, you numb, you wake up weeks later still expecting to see them.
Love doesn’t vanish with death. It sticks to your ribs. It lives in your muscle memory. It changes form, but never leaves. There are so many ways to continue honoring the person’s memory.
You become a different version of yourself—quieter in some ways, louder in others. More sensitive to time. Less tolerant of BS. More than ever, you crave to live life to the fullest. And sometimes this may mean less about squeezing joy into every moment and more about being present, even in the mundane.
Sudden loss changes time. Everything feels more urgent. Every “I love you” matters more. You realize just how unfinished so many goodbyes are.
Call them. Right now. Your grandparents. Your parents. Your siblings. Don’t wait.
I lived so much in fear the past two years…and I am still working on not living in fear. I don’t think we’re meant to live in fear of what could happen—but I do think we’re meant to live with our eyes open.
My friend’s absence continues to teach me about life, love, enjoyment, showing up, slowing down. Most of all, it’s taught me to be more present with those still here with me. You never know how much time you may have with someone you love. And although this sentiment can sound scary, let it be inspiring and empowering to cherish every second with those you love.
