Find a comfortable place to settle.
Take a gentle breath in and release it slowly.
If you're here today,
You're carrying something heavy.
Valentine's Day has arrived again,
And with it,
A reminder of someone who should be here,
But isn't.
Someone you loved,
Someone you built a life with,
Someone whose absence is particularly loud today.
Whether they've been gone for months or years,
Whether this is your first Valentine's Day without them or your tenth,
The ache can feel just as raw,
Because grief doesn't follow anyone's timeline.
And anniversaries,
Holidays,
Special days,
They have a way of bringing it all back to the surface.
I want you to know there is nothing wrong with you for feeling this today.
Your grief is not a problem to be solved,
It's love with nowhere to go,
And that's okay.
Take another breath with me,
You're not alone in this.
Let's be honest about what today feels like.
Valentine's Day wasn't designed for people like us,
Was it?
It's designed for couples who get to go to dinner together,
Exchange cards,
Make plans.
The whole world seems to celebrate romantic love on this day,
And when the person you loved is gone,
It can feel like you're invisible.
You see the advertisements,
The flower deliveries,
The happy couples everywhere,
And each one is a small reminder,
They're still here,
Mine isn't.
Maybe you woke up this morning,
And the grief hit you before you even got out of bed,
Maybe you've been dreading this day for weeks,
Maybe you thought you were doing okay,
And then a song came on,
Or you saw a photograph,
Or someone wished you Happy Valentine's Day,
And didn't know what those words would cost you.
It's okay,
All of it is okay.
Grief has its own rhythm,
Its own tides.
Some days you carry it quietly,
And some days,
Days like today,
It carries you.
What you're feeling is not weakness,
It's not moving backward,
It's the honest reality of loving someone who is no longer physically here.
And that kind of love doesn't just disappear because the calendar says it should.
Here is something I've learned through lived experience,
Your grief is proof of your love.
You wouldn't hurt this much if you hadn't loved this deeply.
The pain you feel today is the other side of all of those Valentine's Days you had together.
All of those moments of connection,
All those years of building a life with someone who knew you,
Who chose you,
Who loved you,
That doesn't just vanish because they're gone.
You might feel guilty today.
Guilty if you're starting to feel okay sometimes.
Guilty if you smiled or laughed this week.
Guilty if you thought about moving forward.
Or maybe guilty because you're not moving forward.
Because you're still this sad,
Still this stuck.
Let me say this clearly,
There is no right way to grieve.
There is no timeline.
There is no test you're supposed to pass.
Some widows and widowers find new love eventually.
Some don't.
Some keep their wedding ring on.
Some take it off.
Some keep everything exactly as it was.
Some change everything.
None of these choices are wrong.
None of them mean you loved any less or any more.
You're doing the best you can with an impossible loss.
And today on Valentine's Day,
You don't have to pretend you're somewhere you're not.
You don't have to be over it or moving on or staying strong for anyone else.
You can just be exactly where you are,
Feeling exactly what you feel.
Take a breath with me.
I want you to think about the person you lost.
Really picture them for a moment.
Not in their suffering or decline,
If that's how they left.
But in their essence,
Who they were when they were most themselves.
Now ask yourself,
What would they want for you today?
I don't know your person,
But if I know this.
If they loved you the way you love them,
They wouldn't want you to suffer forever.
They wouldn't want you to stop living.
Because they had to stop living.
They wouldn't want you to carry the guilt on top of your grief.
They would want you to be okay,
Eventually,
In your own time.
That doesn't mean they'd want you to forget them.
It doesn't mean they'd want you to replace them or pretend they never existed.
It means they'd want you to find a way to carry your love for them and still be able to breathe.
To live.
To experience the moments of joy without feeling like a traitor.
Your person would want you to be gentle with yourself today.
So what would that look like?
What would being gentle with yourself on Valentine's Day actually mean?
Being gentle with yourself today might mean giving yourself permission to feel the sadness fully.
Not pushing it away.
Not distracting yourself.
But actually letting yourself sit with the grief.
Maybe that means looking at photos.
Remembering your favourite Valentine's Days together.
Speaking their name out loud.
Crying if you need to cry.
Writing them a letter.
Visiting their grave if that brings you comfort.
Or maybe being gentle means doing something that would honour both your grief and your life.
Maybe it's doing something they loved.
Listening to their favourite music.
Cooking their favourite meal.
Visiting a place you used to go together.
Maybe it's allowing yourself something beautiful.
Not to replace them or forget them.
But because beauty and grief can co-exist.
A walk somewhere peaceful.
Fresh flowers for yourself.
Time in nature.
Something that reminds you that life still holds moments worth experiencing.
Even in the midst of loss.
Maybe it's connecting with someone who understands.
Another widow or widower.
Who knows what this day costs.
Someone who won't tell you to move on.
Or that they're in a better place now.
Someone who just gets it.
Or maybe being gentle means being alone.
Turning off your phone.
Not explaining yourself to anyone.
Just being with your grief and your memories without having to perform okayness for anyone else.
Here's what I want you to know.
You can love them and still live.
You can miss them and still move forward.
You can grieve them and still experience joy.
These things are not contradictions.
They're the complicated truth of loss.
You don't have to choose between honouring your past and having a future.
Your love for them doesn't require you to stop living.
It requires you to find a way to carry them with you.
In your heart.
In your memories.
In the ways that they changed you.
While you continue the journey they can no longer walk with you.
That's not betrayal.
That's the hardest kind of love there is.
Take a deep breath with me now.
You have survived something that people fear most.
You have loved someone deeply.
Built a life with them.
And then had to learn how to exist in a world where they no longer physically were present.
That takes extra ordinary courage.
Even on the days when you don't feel courageous at all.
Today might be hard.
Valentine's Day might always be hard.
And that's okay.
You don't get a medal for pretending it isn't.
But you also don't have to let it break you.
You are still here.
Your heart is still beating.
You still have so much love to give.
To yourself.
To others.
To the memory of the person you lost.
That love doesn't end just because they're gone.
It transforms.
It continues.
It becomes part of who you are.
So,
Today,
Be kind to yourself.
However that looks.
However that feels.
Feel what you need to feel.
Remember who you need to remember.
Rest when you need to rest.
Cry when you need to cry.
And if a moment of peace or even joy finds you,
Let it in.
Your person would want that for you.
You are not alone in your grief.
Even when it feels desperately lonely.
You are one of many who are navigating this impossible path.
And you are doing much better than you think you are.
Breathe.
Be gentle.
Honor both the love you had and the life you still have.
You're carrying something heavy today.
But you don't have to carry it perfectly.
You just have to carry it one breath at a time.
