Loss

I Wouldn’t Wish the Pain, But I Would Wish the Perspective

I wouldn’t wish this ache on anyone—not even on my worst enemy.
But the clarity?
The way grief sharpens everything until only what truly matters remains?
That… I’d wish on the world.

Because when you lose someone you love—truly lose them—
life is never the same.
There’s the world before.
And then there’s the one after.

Grief strips away the unimportant.
It silences the noise.
It burns through the pretending.
And what’s left standing is raw, sacred, and painfully real.

You see time differently.
You speak more honestly.
You stop saving joy for later.
You take the trip. You say “I love you.”
You hold people tighter and forgive more freely.

Loss teaches you how fragile everything is—
and in that fragility, you find the courage to live more boldly.
Not perfectly.
But purposefully.

I would never wish the pain,
but I’d give the perspective to anyone willing to receive it.
Because it wakes you up.
And if there’s anything this grief has taught me,
it’s that presence is everything.
And time… is the most precious thing we’ll ever hold.