Gratitude in the wake of loss

As I sit here writing this, I’m still trying to figure out where to begin. These past few days have been heavy...heavier than I expected, especially with the holidays happening around me. My heart has been carrying the weight of losing a family member, a feeling many can relate to. Even though I trust that God is taking care of them, the closeness of their passing has made me think about life in a completely different way.

It hit me how fragile everything is. How one day you can taste food, feel warm water on your skin, laugh, cry, breathe and then suddenly, you can’t. That thought alone made me overwhelmingly grateful to be here still. To still have access to the sensations that make life feel like life. God as my witness, I don’t take that lightly.

Earlier today, I broke down crying in front of my little brother. I was remembering the family member we lost, thinking about how they’ll never again feel the warmth of a shower or smell the aroma of a good meal. I’m usually good at letting go, but grief has a way of sneaking up on you through the most minor things. For me, it was watching an episode of The Proud Family, a show from my childhood. You know how rewatching something as an adult hits different? This episode hit different. My mind started replaying everything from my childhood to now.

This reflection reminded me that living intentionally and appreciating each moment and those around us can help us find meaning even amidst grief and spiritual growth. Practicing gratitude has reminded me that waiting for perfection never did anyone any good. Living intentionally helps us focus on what truly matters. Opening up about grief and gratitude can create a safe space for others to do the same, reminding us that we're not alone. So I’m ending this year’s final post with my reflections on gratitude, hoping it encourages you to share your own journey. If you’re still reading, thank you. I appreciate you more than you know, and I hope my honesty inspires your own emotional growth.

Gratitude, at its core, is the act of acknowledging the value in what we already have. It’s the awareness that life is happening right now, in real time, and that even in the middle of grief, confusion, or exhaustion, there are still moments worth holding onto.

Practicing gratitude is healthy because it interrupts the spiral of stress and brings us back into our bodies and back into the present moment. It reminds us that we’re still here, still learning, still growing, still capable of feeling. It's a reminder that even in our darkest moments, acknowledging what we're grateful for can provide a fragile but vital anchor.

It also brought up nostalgia. Childhood memories. The innocence of growing up. The shows I used to watch, the people who shaped me, the versions of myself I’ve outgrown. Gratitude made me realize how far I’ve come. From the shy kid who didn’t understand the world to the adult who carries responsibility, wisdom, and a deeper understanding of life’s fragility. And somehow, I’m grateful for that too. Thankful for the lessons, the growth, the resilience, the knowledge I didn’t have back then.

The more I practiced gratitude, the more I understood abundance. Not abundance in the sense of material things, but abundance as a mindset... the awareness that life is whole, layered, textured. That even in the middle of heartbreak, there is still beauty. That even when something is taken away, something else remains. That being alive, with all its complexity, is a gift.

We, as human beings, have so much to be grateful for. Not because everything is perfect, but because everything is real. Because we get to feel, remember, love, hurt, heal, and start again. Gratitude doesn’t deny the complex parts; it simply makes room for the good parts to be seen, too.

As I close this chapter of my life, I’m holding both sadness and gratitude in the same hand. I’m grateful for the memories, the lessons, the childhood nostalgia, the responsibilities that shaped me, and even the grief that reminded me how deeply I can love. And if you’re still reading this, I want to invite you into a moment of honest reflection, not in a dark way, but in a way that honours the gift of being alive. Imagine, just for a moment, the perspective of someone who no longer gets to wake up, breathe fresh air, feel warmth, laugh, cry, or grow.

From that place, ask yourself: What are you truly grateful for? What unfinished conversations, dreams, or acts of love deserve your attention while you still have the chance? What blessings in your life can only be explained by grace? Before we step into the year, I challenge and call you to live with intention, to appreciate what’s here, to thank God for what’s been carried, and to step boldly into the next season.