It’s a hard season–I’ve lost so many friends and family during the holidays. It’s as if a portal opens in this season and the Universe calls souls back in greater numbers.

Or maybe it’s just my experience.

But lately, I’ve felt time shifting — as if the spaces between losses have narrowed. Once, years might pass between goodbyes. Now, they seem to arrive in clusters, one after another, before the heart has even had a chance to mend. A friend, a beloved pet, a neighbor, someone whose laughter once filled a room — gone. The circle feels smaller, the silence heavier. Losses are coming faster.

I find myself reaching for names that no longer answer, remembering the sound of voices I’ll never hear again. I see my late dog still sitting on the corner of the sofa. I hear her footsteps still echoing. Each loss feels like a small erasure, a gentle fading of the world I once knew.

And yet, within the ache, there’s an unexpected tenderness — a deeper awareness of what remains.

I notice more now: the warmth of a shared meal, the kindness of a check-in text, the sunlight on an ordinary morning. I linger in conversations, hold hugs longer, say “I love you” without hesitation. Maybe that’s what loss teaches us — that nothing ordinary ever really is. It’s all important.

And all about love.

Grief has become, in its own way, a companion — one that walks beside me, reminding me how deeply I’ve been connected. The pain of it is proof of love’s endurance. It changes shape, but it never leaves.

The losses come faster now.

But so does the gratitude. I’m thankful for every soul that crossed my path, every joy we shared, every moment I can still hold in memory.