The Quiet Strength of Grief: Learning to Embrace Vulnerability

Grief is often seen as something loud and overwhelming, a heavy weight that knocks you to your knees. But for me, grief has been quieter. It’s in the moments where I find myself alone, driving or sitting alone in my office, thinking of the ones I’ve lost, or sitting quietly in the spaces their memorial pieces are located. In these still moments, grief becomes a gentle, persistent presence—one that doesn’t demand attention but simply is. I’ve learned that embracing this quiet grief, rather than trying to ignore it or push it away, is where the true strength lies.

I remember after losing Brady, how I used to fight back tears whenever I thought of him. But, the strength that I tried to hold on to wasn’t in holding it together. It was in allowing myself to break, to let the tears come when they needed to, and to speak his name when it felt too hard to do so. Vulnerability wasn’t a weakness; it was the doorway to healing. Through the quiet moments of grief, I’ve learned that allowing myself to be open and raw is where I find my truest strength. It’s in those moments that I am reminded that healing isn’t a linear path—it’s a dance, one that invites us to show up, soft and open, even when we feel fractured.