Just Breathe: A therapist’s Journey Through Grief

Losing someone you love feels like having the ground ripped out from beneath you. The world keeps moving, but you’re frozen in place, drowning in a wave of emotions you never saw coming. Grief is disorienting, unpredictable, and all-consuming. It sneaks up in quiet moments, in familiar scents, in songs that suddenly feel unbearable to hear. There’s an ache that settles deep in your chest, a longing for one more hug, one more conversation, one more chance to say everything you never got to. It changes you—sometimes in ways you don’t recognize. And while life moves forward, a part of you always remains tethered to the love and loss that shaped you.

March 10, 2008, was the first time I experienced the devastating loss of someone I loved. My grandmother—my rock, my safe place, the glue that held our family together—passed away. I remember visiting her in the hospital, bringing my favorite picture of us. Even as she struggled to breathe, she smiled at it. She had emphysema, and her passing was not peaceful.

At her wake, I had my first panic attack. I was doing okay until I saw her in the coffin. The floodgates opened, and I couldn’t stop crying. It was the first time I truly felt heartache. She had been my anchor through my parents' divorce, the woman who always encouraged me, who made me feel special. And just like that, she was gone. So was the sense of family unity we once had—no more Sunday dinners, no more holiday gatherings like before.

Fast forward to May 21, 2018. I was in the middle of wedding planning with my sister, my maid of honor. The stress of preparing for a wedding was nothing compared to the call I received at work that day. My father, who rarely called, said the words that still echo in my mind: Ashley is dead.

I was in shock. Denial. What are you talking about? I just spoke to her yesterday! And then, another panic attack. Ashley had been my confidante, the person I could talk to about anything without fear of judgment. She was the one telling me, “Brooke, just breathe,” whenever I felt overwhelmed. The grief of losing her was unlike anything I had ever known. And yet, five months later, I had to move forward and get married—without her by my side.

I felt anger at the world, at God, at myself. I kept wondering if there was something I could have done to prevent her death. She had passed in her sleep from heart complications, leaving behind two young children—just six and three years old—who were the ones to find her.

Moving on felt impossible, but I knew I needed help. I started therapy with a social worker (thank you, Dori!) and met with a chaplain at the hospital I was working at to help me process my grief and anger. Therapy taught me how to navigate my emotions, to recall the beautiful memories of my sister without being consumed by sorrow. I went through all the stages of grief—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance—each one painful but necessary.

Reading the book 7 Lessons from Heaven by Mary C. Neal, MD, helped me regain my belief in God and spirituality. It provided me with comfort and reassurance that there is more beyond this life, and it allowed me to reconnect with my faith in a way I hadn’t been able to since my sister’s passing.

Losing my grandmother and my sister changed me forever, but grief has also shaped me in ways I never expected. It taught me resilience. It deepened my empathy. And it reaffirmed the importance of seeking support, of allowing myself to grieve, and of honoring the memories of my loved ones in healthy ways.

As a therapist, I now carry this deep empathy into my work, understanding the unbearable weight of grief that so many of my clients experience. I help them navigate their own journeys through loss by validating their pain, guiding them through the stages of grief, and helping them develop coping strategies that foster healing. Grief is not a linear process, and no two people experience it in the same way. But with the right support, it is possible to move forward while still honoring those we have lost.

If you're struggling with loss, know that you're not alone. Therapy, faith, support systems—whatever helps you process your grief—are essential. And sometimes, in the midst of pain, the best thing you can do is take a deep breath and just keep going.