Coming Home to Yourself: Finding Love After Loss

The Unexpected Journey of Heartbreak

You don’t always realize when life is preparing you for heartbreak. Sometimes, it feels ordinary. A move you weren’t excited about. A job you took without knowing how important it would become. But later, in the soft ache of hindsight, you start to see it. Love was already moving, quietly gathering around you, making space for the devastation it knew was coming.

That’s what the town that ended up becoming home was for me. It was not a dream destination. It was not part of a grand plan. It was simply a shift. But when he died, it became the ground I didn’t know I would need.

The Importance of Community in Grief

If we had still been in the place we were before, I would’ve been alone—truly, unbearably alone. But this new place and its community held me. The local restaurants made sure I was fed. Strangers became caretakers. They came to my house. They sat with me in the dark. They made sure I didn’t disappear.

Looking back, I see it so clearly: the net was already being woven.

Dreams as Guides

And then there were the dreams. One night, I was pulled toward a woman’s name I didn’t recognize. Something in me said, go to her house. When I looked her up, I found she was a Reiki teacher. The next evening, she was hosting a mediumship circle. I walked in not knowing what I’d find.

Three mediums stood at the front—clairvoyant, clairaudient, clairsentient. But it was the ones who could feel and hear who reached me. One brought him through, soft and unmistakable. I returned to her for years. The other became my teacher. A red-haired angel with a cherub’s face opened her door and said, “You’re home.” That was the first night I felt anything good again.

The Power of Connection

She taught me to listen to spirit, to trust the channel, to be held. Another teacher would follow—a different light, but just as steady. Suddenly, I had women around me who didn’t try to fix me. They just kept the lamp on while I stumbled my way back to myself.

I think we underestimate what it means to be remembered. To be checked on. To be texted every morning by someone who writes, “breathe.” Or to have a friend log into a chat window day after day, just to send you messages because they know the silence would hurt more than their distraction at work.

Some people flew across states to sit on my couch. Others brought gifts on anniversaries I didn’t want to speak about. And it kept going.

Signs from the Universe

One day, angry, broken, and alone at the mall, I looked up at a Jeep in front of me and saw the word “UNDEAD.” It made me pause. Laugh. Cry. It became the beginning of a strange thread—license plates that seemed to speak. ONE DAY BACK. WITH YOU ALWAYS. Coincidence? I started calling them co-incidents—moments in partnership with the divine.

Him, whispering in pixels, bumpers, and open skies. There was the night I woke up choking, gasping, and moments later, the police knocked on my door. They’d received repeated silent calls from my number. But my phone was off. Unplugged. Still—somehow—a call had gone out. I think he was trying to keep me alive.

Finding Support in Unexpected Places

And the strangers online, women who had also lost their partners, who messaged me, shared their art, and knew how to hold grief without explaining it away. Then, there was the inn. My first birthday alone. A place he would’ve taken me. A place he wanted to take me. So, I went. Alone.

It was luxurious and on all the travel lists and Top 1000 Places to Go Before You Die. But what I remember most wasn’t the elegance; it was the care. They treated me like someone precious. They set my table facing the garden. They gave me books. They signed the menu with love. They escorted me from one soft handoff to the next, as if I were being passed in a wool blanket from one guardian to another.

The Healing Power of Love

I’ve gone back almost every year since. Not to repeat the past, but to remember what it feels like to be seen by strangers and held like family. This is how love found me after loss. Not in big, dramatic resurrections, but in whispers. In timings. In people who stayed. In dreams I listened to. In gardens I didn’t plant but somehow still bloomed for me.

Love found me in broken places. In small texts and unexpected hugs. In red hair and radiated light. In the sound of my own breath, I realized I was still here.

You don’t have to believe in signs. You don’t have to believe in energy or spirit. But I do. Because I lived it. Because I was kept alive by the quiet choreography of grace. And I will never forget the way love kept arriving, even when I thought I had lost it for good.

Grounding Practices for Healing

In the midst of grief, grounding practices can be incredibly helpful. Here are some tools you might consider:

• Breathwork: Simple breathing exercises can help anchor your nervous system. Take a moment to breathe deeply, inhaling for a count of four, holding for four, and exhaling for four.

• Journaling: Writing down your thoughts and feelings can provide clarity. It’s a way to express what’s inside without judgment.

  
  

• Movement: Whether it’s a gentle walk or a dance in your living room, movement can release pent-up emotions.

  
  

• Creative Expression: Engage in art, music, or any form of creativity that resonates with you. It can be a powerful outlet for your feelings.

  
  

• Everyday Rituals: Establish small rituals that bring you comfort. Light a candle, make a cup of tea, or sit quietly in nature.

  
  

Embracing the Journey

As you navigate your own journey, remember that it’s okay to feel lost. It’s okay to seek support. You are not alone. Love is often found in the most unexpected places, and it can guide you back to yourself. Embrace the journey, and allow yourself to be held by the community around you.

In the end, it’s the connections we forge, the love we receive, and the grace we recognize that help us heal. You are worthy of love, even in your brokenness. Let it find you.