08/15/25

            Grief is a crow, a murder, pecking at your old self, as dead as the day you lost your dear one. The crows pull pieces of you away and hold them up to the morning sun for you to revere and examine closely. Because dying and resurrecting are not easy tasks, you must approach them with the utmost curiosity. You must be brave and ask yourself, “Who am I now?” and “What does this all mean in the grand scheme of things?”

            Grief will bring you to your knees on the cold, hard tile floor of your home or hostel. It will force you to confront the harsh truth of your old, outdated self-narrative. And, after you experience enough bittersweet memories, like pairs of old wings you have to hang back up, life will start to sprinkle in fun, sparks of joy, wisdom, and new opportunities. 

            After losing someone woven into the fabric of your space-time continuum, you adapt by becoming something new to survive. To find your way back to your heart once more, ensuring it beats and pumps enough blood and vitality into your avatar until you’re animated again. 

            Grief convinces you to stop negotiating with the past and sever the chords that bind you.

            Grief takes you from child to adult in one transition.

            Grief prunes the parts of your life that are not meant to be continued.

            Grief ensures that a brave, authentic warrior waits on the other side, one who faces what needs to be faced and is done with it. One who is ready to embrace adventure and spit in the face of fear. You are stronger because of this chapter, this winter season. You are not damaged, just updated. 

Until the next spiral inward,

Nicole Asbjorn