Grief found me in more than one way. Becoming a mother - and specifically a single mother - brought a total identity shift I didn’t anticipate. The pace and priorities of my life changed so drastically that I felt like I had lost the “me” that existed before motherhood. That loss alone was disorienting. And then, just as I was learning how to adjust, my father died by suicide. That moment shattered the little stability I had left and brought me to a place where daily life felt almost unbearable - heavy, lonely, and stripped of joy. What helped me begin healing wasn’t just one thing - it was a series of small, brave choices. I took a short trip to be with close friends who didn’t ask anything of me, just sat beside me. I let myself cry. I sought therapy and joined an online support group for survivors of suicide loss. I reached out to other moms who understood the invisible weight I was carrying. I stopped pretending I was okay when I wasn’t - and began allowing myself the space and tools to grieve. In time, the grief shifted. It didn’t disappear, but it softened. I started practicing rituals to release what I was holding, to come back to myself. I began to notice a lightness I hadn’t felt in years. It was a deeper freedom and curiosity about who I was becoming. I now create boundaries that protect my peace and moments of stillness that help me listen to my own body and spirit. Grief changed me, but it also offered me a strange kind of clarity - a reminder that I am not alone, that healing is possible, and that being tender with ourselves is an act of strength.