Shift in the quiet. The space between grief and beginning again.

After the services ended and everyone returned to their lives, I was still grieving.
There were moments I felt completely paralyzed… like my body hadn’t received the memo that life was continuing.

Eventually, a quiet knowing arrived: I had to begin living again, even with the weight on my chest, even when swallowing felt hard. I reached for small comforts. Playing Toy Blast just to drown out my thoughts. Watching lighthearted shows with my husband. Letting the tears come… almost ritualistically in every shower and bath.

My personal prayer ceremonies became my lifeline.
In the stillness, I can hear Momma Bert laughing. I hear my grandmother speaking softly. When someone is on my mind, I usually call or send a message… but I couldn’t. I couldn’t check on my Goddaughter. That absence settled deep in my body.

So I found steadiness in breathwork, prayer, slow sips of tea, and sometimes a gummy.

I created a schedule not to just be productive, but to ease myself back into living. Back into The Healing Garden Café. Back into myself. It feels like starting over. Building the strength to connect beyond my close-knit circle. Learning how to breathe when all I want is to wrap myself in a cocoon and hide.

I am meeting a new version of myself in this grief.
And still…
I can.
I am.
I will.

Asè