It's been three years since the day I suddenly lost my husband — the very first time grief found me.
The pain and darkness surrounded me so quickly that I couldn't even think or truly see what was happening around me.
Was it real, or was I dreaming?
I was crying nonstop. I was screaming while my mother held me.
It was the first time I had ever lost someone so close to my soul, and no matter how much I try to explain it, there is simply no way to describe the pain I experienced in those moments.
My body was in shock. I entered a world and an energy so dark that all I wanted was to die or wake up from what felt like a bad dream.
But it wasn't a dream.
It was the reality I was already living in without even realizing it or accepting it.
It didn't give me a choice.
What I wanted during those first few weeks was probably different from what most people expected.
During the first few weeks after my loss, I wished people would stop telling me to be strong. I wished I had been left alone more — to truly process what was happening inside of me.
Do not get me wrong. I am grateful for everyone who was there for me. I know they didn't have the right words, and they only wanted to be supportive.
But grief hit me differently.
It made me think differently. It made me feel differently. It confused me, and I couldn't even understand myself.
But I knew I didn't want to be told to be strong.
I didn't want to hear, "You're going to make it."
Because when I was told I had to be strong, I wondered: Am I not already strong enough that I have to experience this? How strong do I have to be to not have to go through this?
That is what it felt like.
Of course, I kept those thoughts to myself.
I just wanted to be left alone in those moments.
Grief is not just about losing someone.
It's a hole in your heart that you will carry for the rest of your life.
And from time to time, the darkness and pain of grief will visit you again and poke that hole right back open.
Grief surprised me in a way where I didn't just feel it in my heart.
I felt it in my soul, in my bones, and throughout my body.
I felt like everything shut down.
I could not eat. I could not think.
The only thing that felt relevant during those days were the tears I cried.
I cried myself to sleep, and I lost track of how long I had been doing it.
I was breathing, but I couldn't feel the air.
I couldn't see anything, but I wasn't blind.
I was just living with no purpose.
There are still days when grief tries to consume me.
And instead of fighting it or avoiding it, I let it surround me.
I let myself feel it to my core.
I let myself cry and scream if I need to.
On the hardest days, what helped me most was writing.
I have a blank notebook where I poured out my feelings and my darkest thoughts.
It helped me release emotions so heavy that I couldn't share them with my friends or family because I felt they would never truly understand.
It didn't fix my grief.
But it helped me express my emotions without judgment, in whatever way I needed to.
Grief is not something you solve today, tomorrow, or even years from now.
You don't have to be okay today.
If grief is something new to you, please know that this space — Magical Soul Creations — welcomes you with an open heart.
This space is for you.
You don't have to be strong.
You are already strong.
You are not alone.
You will never be the same — that's a fact.
But the darkness and pain surrounding you now will not always feel this way.
You will find light.
You will find purpose.
You will find your way to healing, and you will learn how to build a life around that hole in your heart.
It's not easy, and it's not linear.
But the light is always within you.
Be patient with yourself.
Be kind to yourself during this time.
Magical Soul Creations is here to hold space for grieving souls — a place to find support, whether through words or through our creations.
From my heart and soul to yours,
Merryl Burns