If anyone knows me, they know that I love to watch the sunsets and post so many pictures 🌅and after watching the sunset the other evening on Georgian Bay I went home and I started to write this blog “when the sun rises and sets after a loss.
When someone we love passes away, the sun still rises. The birds still sing. The world carries on.
But for those left behind, nothing feels the same.
I often find myself wondering what they are feeling; the ones who have crossed over. Are they watching the sunrise with us? Are they comforted by our tears, or do they wish we’d feel their nearness in the wind, in the warmth of morning light?
There’s no definitive answer, of course. But in my heart and through the many stories shared with me over the years, I believe that those who have passed feel peace, not pain. I believe they sense our love still reaching them. And I believe they wish we would lean into life again, even while we carry our grief.
But here, in this world, it’s not so simple. 😔
Grief doesn’t follow a straight line. It can be loud one moment and silent the next. It can take the form of anger, guilt, numbness or that aching, bottomless sorrow that comes when the sun sets and the silence becomes unbearable.
So, how do we console someone walking through that kind of pain? With my knowledge of Heartmath I’ve learned that ….
We don’t rush them. We don’t “fix” them. We meet them where they are.
We say things like:
- “I don’t have the right words, but I’m here.”
- “I’m holding space for you, however you show up today.”
- “You don’t have to be okay. Not today.”
Sometimes, the deepest comfort isn’t what we say; it’s what we don’t say. It’s the quiet cup of tea offered. The shared silence. The soft reminder that they’re not alone.
And when we do speak, we speak from the heart:
- “Tell me about them. What did they love?”
- “What’s the hardest part of today for you?”
- “Would it help to talk, or would you rather just sit together?”
When the sun rises and sets on someone’s grief, we must remember: our presence is what matters, not our advice.
Let them grieve in their own rhythm. Remind them that their love doesn’t end here. It continues in memories, in the way they live, in how they speak their name.
And if you’re the one grieving, know this:
The sun may rise and set in ways that feel indifferent right now. But you matter. Your pain matters. And your person - they mattered. Still do.
Grief is the price of deep love. And even though the sun will rise without them, your heart can rise again too 🌅 in time, and in its own way.
Until next time with compassion and care, wishing you peace and warmth 🙏
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