Here’s what I have come to realize with my entire being: We are not the same person we were before our loved one passed away.
This is not a tragedy but a simple truth. For a long time, I tried to recover the woman I was before Bryan transitioned, believing that healing meant returning to her—recovering her and becoming her again. I would catch glimpses of her in old photos—her laugh, the lightness in her eyes, how she held her shoulders before she knew what she was about to lose—and I would ache for her, wishing to have her back.
She was not coming back.
Tom Zuba taught me that grieving her, the woman I was before, was part of the entire process, because I had to let her go to make space for who I was becoming.
Who I am now is not less than she was; she is more. She knows things the previous version of me didn’t. She has stood in places the old me couldn’t have imagined.
She loves more fiercely, listens more deeply, is more tolerant, more patient, more compassionate with herself and others, and wastes less time on what doesn’t matter. She has met her own soul.
Here’s a beautiful truth about grief that often goes unspoken: the person you’re becoming on the other side of it isn’t a lesser version of yourself, but a richer, more whole one. To meet this new you, try letting go of the attempt to bring back the person who is gone. Embrace their memory with love and respect, honoring all they were, everything they carried, and how they helped you through tough times. Then, gently turn your attention to who is starting to emerge in their place.
Become curious about this new version of yourself. Ask what they need and want. Notice what no longer feels right and what fits now. Give yourself permission to hold new opinions and desires, and allow yourself to pursue what you truly want. This fresh version of you has been patiently waiting, and it’s who you’ve always been in the process of becoming.