To Anyone Who\’s Ever Lost Something They Loved: This One’s for You

There’s no right way to grieve, only your way.

To the man who lost his child before he could hear them cry…
To the woman who buried her dreams quietly while smiling through it all…
To the boy who lost a father figure…
To the girl who hasn’t been the same since her mother passed…
To the friend who can’t explain why they still feel empty after the breakup…
To you, whoever you are, this is for you.

There’s No Right Way to Grieve

If you’ve ever been told to “be strong,” “move on,” or “get over it,”
you’ve already learned the hard way that society doesn’t know how to sit with grief.

We live in a world that celebrates progress but is uncomfortable with pain.
A world that offers clichés instead of comfort, timelines instead of tenderness.

But here’s the truth:
Grief is not weakness. Grief is love that lost its way.

My Story — And Why I\’m Writing This

In the past four years of marriage, my wife and I have experienced the kind of loss that scrapes your soul raw.

We lost two babies at birth.
Twice, we carried life.
Twice, we prayed, planned, and prepared.
And twice, we left the hospital with empty arms and hearts full of silent screams.

People tried to be kind.
They said things like:

“It is well.”
“At least you’re still young.”
“God knows best.”
“You can always try again.”

They meant well, at least that\’s what they say and think, but it didn’t help.

Because no one prepares you for how loud a nursery can feel when it\’s silent.
No one tells you that grief doesn\’t go away after the third month.
Or the sixth.
Or the year.
It just changes shape.

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Your Grief is Valid

You might not have lost a child.
Maybe you lost a parent.
Or a relationship you thought would last.
Or a version of yourself you don’t know how to find again.

Whatever it is, whatever it was, you’re allowed to mourn it.

Grief isn’t just for death.
Grief is for dreams deferred.
For friendships that faded.
For chapters that closed too soon.

There’s no “big enough” loss.
If it hurt you, you’re allowed to feel it.
No explanation needed.

What I’ve Learned

Through the ache, I’ve discovered this:

• There’s no template for grief.
  You can’t “do it right” or “wrong.”
  You can only do it your way.
• Some days you’ll feel fine.
  Other days, a scent, a song, or a social media memory will wreck you.
• People will mean well, but not always help.
  Give grace, but guard your peace. Protect your healing space.
• You need community.
  Not crowds. Not clout, you need Real people. Who check in without needing updates.
  Who don’t rush your healing or guilt your emotions.
• You must speak.
  Don’t drown in silence. Don’t spiritualize your suffering into secrecy.
  Healing needs air. Say it. Cry it. Journal it. Pray it. But don’t bury it.

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To the One Still Hurting…

I wrote this because I see you.

Whether you\’re months into your healing or just surviving moment to moment…
Whether you talk about it or carry it quietly…
Whether you’ve had to be strong for others while breaking on the inside…

This is your reminder that it’s okay to feel it all.
The sadness.
The rage.
The numbness.
The guilt.
The confusion.
The gratitude (yes, even that).

All of it.
Because grief isn’t linear.
Some days you’ll weep. Other days you’ll laugh and feel guilty for laughing.
But that doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten. It just means you’re learning to live again.

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You\’re Not Alone

I can’t fix your pain.
But I can say this: I care.
And I’m walking my own path through this valley, too.

So this post isn’t to preach at you. It’s to sit beside you.
To let you know you don’t have to “bounce back.”
You can rise slowly.
One breath at a time.
One sunrise at a time.

You are not broken. You are grieving.
And grieving is one of the most human, most honest things we do.

You don’t need permission to feel what you feel.
But if you need validation, let this be it.

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📖 Written with my whole heart.

Your Friend

John Fadejola