Loss: The Weight We All Must Endure
Co-authored by Dawn Ford
At some point, we all face it:
LOSS…
Loss is the weight we must all carry. It comes in many forms, at different times, but no one escapes it. Some may be fortunate enough to float through many years of their life untouched by tragedy or heartbreak. But sooner or later, it catches up with us. We will all eventually experience loss in some form, whether it’s the quiet end of a friendship, the heartbreak of a miscarriage, the sting of losing a job, the silence or fire of estrangement, or the deep grief of losing a loved one—be it family, a close friend, or a cherished pet—loss is a part of being human.
Losing our family dog after more than a decade together really shook me. When a pet has been around that long, they're woven into your everyday life. It’s the little things that hit the hardest after they’re gone. Coming downstairs in the morning, half expecting the usual chaos and a wagging tail… only to find silence and an empty spot where the bed used to be. Or catching yourself glancing in the rear-view mirror, thinking they’ll be there in the back of the car like always. Those small moments—they stay with you. Sometimes for longer than you’d expect.
When my grandfather died, I felt a deep sense of injustice as his coffin was carried out of the chapel after the funeral. I was already a young adult, but I was caught off guard by a voice inside me that wanted to scream, “No, you can’t take him—he belongs with us.” If I’m honest, I wanted to stamp my feet and make a scene like a small child - maybe that was my attempt to have my voice heard? Maybe I subconsciously wanted my relationship, my loss, my grief to be considered? Where had that wave of emotion come from? I hadn’t had much recent contact with him, yet suddenly this intense grief was bubbling up. I wasn’t just distraught—I was angry. But angry at who? Looking back, probably just at life itself. At the injustice of it all. As Dawn Ford, Loss & Wellbeing Specialist astutely says, “when it comes to our emotions and our feelings, you never say should and you never say you shouldn’t”. All emotions are valid, there is no right or wrong.
As a teenager, I remember asking the priest in my Confirmation class, ‘What is the point of this life if it involves so much pain?’ His answer gave me no relief. I’ve carried that question ever since, and years later, standing in that chapel, it still lingered in my mind: What was the point of it all? Why was life so hard? Why did life end cruelly with us growing old and helpless? And why did those left behind have to carry the mighty weight of grief around with them?
Suicide & More Unanswered Questions
Then there was the loss that shook me in an entirely different way—when one of my dear childhood friends, with so much potential ahead of her, took her own life. The grief was raw, heavy, and full of unanswered questions. I just felt an immense sense of waste. She had been such a beautiful and talented person. Her intense blue eyes still pierce through me today. I can’t even describe what I felt at the time but it was an intense feeling of emptiness, I craved to see her again and yet it was too late. I turned that pain inward, questioning myself. Why didn’t I notice anything? Why wasn’t I there for her? Maybe I could’ve helped? Maybe I could’ve stopped her? I kept imagining how lost she must have felt to take such a final, irreversible step. Dawn Ford; “When you lose someone to suicide the grief is often referred to as grief on steroids” - those that have been bereaved in this devastating way may well agree with this.
When loved ones pass, it feels so final. And yet, more often than not, we’re not ready for it to be over. We mourn not just their absence, but what it means for us—that they will no longer be part of our lives, and that we had no say in any of it. It’s out of our control, and yet we crave that control so deeply. Dawn Ford; “We also grieve the hopes, dreams and expectations we had for that relationship that never continued or materialised. We often grieve ‘on their behalf’, as strange as that might sound; grieving all that they will no longer experience or get to be a part of; special celebratory events like weddings, as well as the undeniable beauty of the everyday; the flowers in the garden, the warmth of sunshine on their face, the delightful sound of birdsong, the joy in hearing laughter.”
Facing Mortality
And as we face our own mortality, we are inevitably confronted with deep, existential questions: What happens when everything we know and cherish comes to an end? And how do we move forward when everything feels uncertain and broken? Most of us instinctively avoid these questions because the idea of everything simply ending is too sobering to truly sit with.
That’s why we’re always doing something. We fill our time, stay busy, chase things—because deep down, we’re trying to distract ourselves from the most basic truth: that we’re all hurtling, unknowingly, toward the end. And in that sense, any kind of loss doesn’t just remind us of what’s gone—it reminds us that one day, we too will be gone. The death of a loved on forces us to consider: Who am I without this person? How much of my identity was intertwined with theirs? These are deeply existential questions. In grieving, we often mourn not only the person, but also the version of life we imagined with them in it. While this may seem self-centered, it’s a natural human response—we are creatures of attachment and routine, and we find safety in familiarity.
Disorientation, Emotional Complexity & Healing
The phrase “to feel at a loss” captures the emotional experience of feeling confused, or unsure about what to do next, often in the wake of a difficult or painful situation. When we lose someone dear, we are left disoriented, uncertain of how to move forward. We may feel hopeless, blocked, exhausted, insecure, or untethered. Everything can feel unstable and raw. This disorientation may lead to depression, despair, or a profound sense of brokenness. We might feel angry, incomplete, or as though a vital piece of ourselves has been torn away.
But loss doesn’t have to involve death to leave a mark—it can come from change, distance, or the quiet ending of something meaningful. As Dawn Ford shares, “it’s an end of, or a change in, a familiar pattern” that throws us. Sometimes it’s a friendship that unravels unexpectedly. A relationship that drifts apart or ends abruptly. It can even be watching someone you love grow distant, emotionally, even when they’re still physically present.
Loss can shake our sense of stability and pull us out of our comfort zones, often prompting deep reflection. The death of a parent might stir a sudden awareness of becoming the next generation. A breakup or the end of a romantic relationship may lead to uncertainty—can I risk being vulnerable again? Estrangement from someone once close might bring questions about our own role, or uncover truths we hadn’t been ready to face. These are just some of the many thoughts and emotions that can surface when we’re navigating the weight of loss—there’s no single way to feel, and no right way to process it.
When we’re grieving we’re often in immense emotional pain - emotional pain that feels like no other. We’re human so we reach out for ways to ‘cope’, to ‘numb’, to ‘soothe’ the pain of our reality. The most common ‘coping mechanisms’ are: alcohol, drugs, food, gambling, exercising, holidays, retail therapy. Others include ‘keeping busy’, workaholic syndrome, looking after others, and hoarding.
While people often resort to coping mechanisms to numb or manage the pain, emotions themselves don’t always follow a predictable path—there’s often no rhyme or reason to the moods that take hold of us. We often experience conflicting emotions too - relieved and angry, happy and sad. Emotions; some are fleeting, some feel more embedded but knowing that they can exist and co-exist in the same week, the same day, even in the same hour can be strangely reassuring.
Grief must be felt, not bypassed. Emotions need room to exist, and giving them that space may provide the very pause we need to ultimately begin the process of acceptance, at least at some level. There may well be an inability to move forward and this can be an essential part of healing.
Dawn Ford: We need to honour our emotions, lean in to them. It will always be healthier than endeavouring to block them, which is utterly exhausting. Many say “I’ve put my grief in a box” and some have many boxes. Over time this may lead to unhealthy consequences, either in behaviour or habits, or ill health. Emotions are energy. What happens to all that intense energy if you don’t feel it, express it, share it? It stores itself internally and that will never be good.
Parental Grief in Watching Children Grow
As a parent, loss is felt in the small, inevitable goodbyes that come with watching our children grow. We say goodbye to the chubby toddler hands, the constant need for us, the bedtime cuddles, and the wide-eyed wonder of the world around them. It’s in the shift from child to teenager that the grief strikes hardest. During this time, our children may become distant, push us away, or reject our affection. Relationships can grow strained, and we may find ourselves longing for the child who once looked at us with unconditional love, whose world revolved around us.
There’s also the fear of losing our children—whether to illness, accidents, or simply the risks that come with growing up. Sometimes it’s rational, other times it’s not, but that fear can feel inescapable. We worry when they’re out late, crossing busy roads, or doing things that test their limits. And while our instinct is to protect, we have to be careful not to let that turn into control. Risk is part of life—and part of growing up. Our children need space to gain independence, even if giving them those wings feels like a tearing at the heart. For me, this fear shows up in a recurring nightmare—one where I accidentally hit someone with my car and am charged with involuntary manslaughter. The most terrifying part isn’t the accident itself, but the thought of being taken away, locked up, and missing the chance to watch my children grow. It’s a deep, aching sense of loss that lingers long after I wake…
Breakups & Lost Friendships
Loss, in any form, hurts. It can be jarring—like a blow that knocks the wind out of us, leaving us breathless. The end of a romantic relationship, especially with someone we believed was “the one,” can linger painfully. Whether they decide we’re not right for them, fall in love with someone else, or things simply fall apart, we might carry that ache for years, replaying what went wrong or mourning the one that got away. Friendships, too, can end suddenly—after a conflict, a drifting apart, or without clear explanation. Losing a best friend can feel like losing a part of ourselves, leaving behind a pain that’s hard to articulate but deeply felt.
Loss can be subtle, creeping in through life’s transitions—but it still carves something out of us. Whatever its form, it leaves behind a deep emptiness—a void that changes the fabric of our lives. Things rarely feel the same afterward, and the emotional weight that follows can be overwhelming.
Invisible Losses
Loss goes beyond relationships. Sometimes it arrives in quieter, more personal ways—the loss of health, the onset of a disability, the end of a chapter like breastfeeding or a career. It might be the subtle shift of aging or the loss of a role that once defined us. These losses, though less visible, carry their own deep grief. When we face a change in our physical ability or lose a role that once defined us, it can feel like mourning a version of ourselves that no longer exists. In these moments, we may struggle with a shifting identity, wondering who we are now and how we’ll adapt.
Grieving Chronic Pain and Identity
For those living with chronic illness, the grief is quieter but no less significant. It’s not a loss marked by a single event, but by the gradual erosion of the life they once knew—the slow fading of what once felt normal. And for those facing a terminal diagnosis, the future can feel like it’s slipping through their fingers—a deeply personal and painful process of coming to terms with the inevitable goodbye that looms ahead.
For me, chronic pain forced a reckoning. My doctors advised me to slow down, to reduce my output—to give up on driving the Ferrari and accept the Ford Mondeo. I was used to running marathons, working out, living life in the fast lane. Then, suddenly, overnight I was pulled away from the life I knew. It felt like I’d been flung into a deep abyss, robbed of my essence. I lost all sense of self. I fell into a depression. Honestly, there were moments I wasn’t sure I was going to make it. So much of my joy and love for life had evaporated. Each day was marked by pain, and I felt wretched.
Finding Meaning Through Pain
And yet, somewhere deep inside, I wasn’t willing to give up.
I was forced to take stock of my situation. In doing so, I found space for reflection. Slowly, I began to see things from a different perspective. I adjusted my expectations. I started channeling my energy in new ways. I let go of being so hard on myself. I began to explore new passions—and in that process, I reconsidered my purpose and direction. It was painful, yes. But life is still worth the struggle.
Aging and Acceptance
Maybe that’s part of growing older, too. We lose—then we learn to accept. We become gentler with ourselves. We can’t hold onto our looks or our fitness forever. Eventually, we have to come to terms with the wrinkles, the imperfections. It’s a work in progress, and I won’t pretend it’s always easy—but over time, we begin to find value in other things. New priorities emerge, and the pressures and expectations that once seemed so urgent begin to fade, replaced by what actually matters. In every case, loss invites introspection. It challenges us to sit with discomfort, to grieve what was, and—over time—to find meaning in what remains.
Many people often say that their greatest clarity and sense of purpose emerged during the toughest times in their lives. That unimaginable loss can be the very spark that ignites transformation, propelling us forward in ways we never thought possible. In those dark moments, we might experience a complete shift, realising that we’ve been wasting time or not fully embracing our potential. Loss can push us to take responsibility for our own lives, forcing us to accept that change is inevitable and transition is necessary. This very loss can become our driving force, even transforming into our life's purpose. It may push us to step outside our comfort zones, make bold moves like relocating, changing careers, pursuing new studies, or even embracing the unexpected—taking on a risky hobby, reinventing our image, or turning our passions into our life's work.
What Loss Teaches Us
Painful moments shape us—they push us to confront ourselves in ways that comfort never could. Through these experiences, we learn what we’re made of. We uncover strength we didn’t know we had, and we begin to see what truly matters. Our core values come into sharper focus. Most importantly, we adapt—because survival demands it. Loss, as devastating as it is, can become purpose. It can fuel the direction we take next, become the force behind everything we do. In that way, it gives us something we may never have had before: clarity, drive, and a deeper sense of meaning.
Loss as Transformation
Loss sucks—there’s no sugarcoating it. But it’s also an unavoidable part of life, and it often marks a transition—a shift from what was to what is now. It forces us to reckon with change, to release the version of ourselves or our lives we thought we’d always have. And in that painful letting go, we begin—slowly—to reshape, to rebuild, to find our footing again.
In Grief, We Grow
Life moves in highs and lows, and whether we like it or not, we’re all moving toward the end. But in the depths—in the heartbreak, the grief, the letting go—we grow.
It might however take a beat…
About the Co-Author
Dawn Ford is a Loss & Wellbeing Specialist based in Herefordshire, UK. She has been working in the field of grief, loss, and emotional wellbeing since 2006, when she first trained as a child bereavement volunteer. Her work is rooted in compassion and creativity—beginning with her keepsake creations, handmade from cherished items of clothing, and evolving into delivering the transformational Edu-Therapy™ programme. Dawn supports clients in exploring unresolved emotions and navigating emotionally intense relationships, whether through bereavement or ongoing conflict.
With a background as an art tutor and practicing artist, Dawn also delivers expressive arts workshops for children, using textiles and mark-making to explore themes of sadness, identity, and healing. Her approach is gentle yet powerful, helping clients uncover emotional truths, develop self-compassion, and build resilience in the face of life’s inevitable losses. For many, her work proves to be not just healing—but life-changing. www.dawnford.co.uk
All images courtesy of Freepix.
