Shame has been a mother tongue because I was taught to be ashamed—ashamed of my body, my size, the fullness of my nose, the width of my hips, the gap in my teeth, the volume of my laughter, the chocolate brown of my skin, and the depths of my joy. But those very things I used to hate, those very parts of me I used to loathe, have become the parts I love the most.
Grief goes where I put it, just like anything else. When I set my water bottle or keys down and can’t find them later, they’re lost. But grief is different. Sometimes it’s exactly where I left it. Other times, I wonder, ‘Where did my grief go?’ and feel like I’ve lost it. So now, I choose where to place my grief.
I logged onto Facebook to find that a college peer passed away, thrusting me into a sudden reflection on our shared mortality. This piece dives into the raw beauty and unpredictability of Mother Nature, urging us to savor each kiss of sunshine and every fleeting smile. It demands us questioning how we choose to fill the numbered days of our one precious life, challenging us to a legacy of bold and intentional living. Above all, it calls us to recognize and elevate the Light within ourselves and others, to live not just with potential, but with purpose.
We explore the profound impact of encountering death from childhood to adulthood. Through personal anecdotes—from the loss of a childhood friend and grandparents to the courageous battle of a sister-friend against cancer—we grapple with understanding and accepting our mortality. These deeply personal experiences illuminate how those we’ve lost continue to shape our lives and perspectives. This post encourages us to live with boldness and intention, inspired by those who embraced life fully in the face of our universally terminal diagnoses, reminding us that life is terminal for everyone.
