When Life Happens: Lessons in Grief, Silence, and Giving Yourself Grace
July 31, 2026
Hello everyone! It’s been a min…
Early this year, my father passed away. It was one of the first major losses in my family in a very long time, and the grief attacked me in a way I had never experienced before.
Author and her father shortly before his passing.
Before his passing, I was already feeling overstimulated. I was pouring so much energy into building my brand and finding new ways to share all the work I’ve done to help others with hearing loss create engaging, successful lives. But this stopped me dead in my tracks.
Don't get me wrong—it was my father, so of course I was supposed to mourn. But this was more than standard sadness. I was barely eating, sleeping constantly, and carrying a heaviness that felt impossible to lift. Before I even realized what was happening, several months had passed.
Coming Up for Air
When I finally began to move again and try to be present, a strange realization hit me: Why does everything feel so quiet?
Luckily, I had a doctor’s appointment already on the books. Sitting down with my audiologist allowed me to voice my concerns, and after he tweaked my devices, things improved. But coming back to the digital world wasn't immediate. I was still in a fog. My brain just wanted to rest—so I listened, and I rested.
During that unplanned pause, I didn't consciously decide to "take a break." I was simply reacting to my circumstances. But in that quiet space, memories of my lived life started surfacing. I began reflecting on past difficulties, asking myself: What did I learn from those lessons? How did I handle them then? How do I get to a more peaceful place with my father’s passing?
The smiling author with gray locs and dark-rimmed glasses wearing a navy T-shirt.
The Spark to Return
As I slowly started moving and creating again—watching how much the online space and AI had shifted—I felt my strength returning bit by bit. My desire to serve and help others came back to life.
But what truly gave me that final push over the edge was a single online peer who took the time to reach out and check on me. That small gesture made me feel seen in my silence. Creating became easier after that, and I took my sweet time doing it—no rushing, no pressure.
The Moral: Honor Your Humanity
I share all of this to say one simple thing: Allow yourself some humanity. We all deserve it.
Life happens, and life eventually goes on. Feel your feelings, listen to your body, and do whatever you need to do to heal. Of course, I am still grieving my father. But today, I am able-bodied, paying attention to my body and my environment, and grateful for the strength to show up again—on my own terms.
Blessings,
Valecia
