In the past few months, five people who once held meaningful places in my life have passed away. We were no longer close — not in the day-to-day sense. Life had taken us in different directions, and while we stayed in touch here and there, we weren’t part of each other’s current stories.
Still, I find myself overcome with grief.
At first, it felt strange. I questioned why I was feeling so deeply for people who hadn’t been central in my life for years. But the more I sat with it, the more I realized: grief doesn’t follow logic. It doesn’t care about proximity or frequency. It follows connection, memory, and meaning.
Each of these people marked a different chapter of my life. One was a friend who made me laugh when I didn’t think I could. Another was a mentor always willing to offer advice and support. One was a childhood friend I worked on a very special project with, another shared her love of Irish Culture with me, and one simply reminded me of who I used to be.
Their deaths feel like the closing of doors I hadn’t realized were still open — quiet, dusty doors to rooms I hadn’t visited in years, but that still held pieces of me.
I’m learning that grief can be layered. It can be about the person, yes, but also about the time they represent. Their passing brings up old versions of myself, unresolved feelings, and the ache of knowing that some connections, even if faded, are now permanently out of reach.
It’s okay to mourn people who were once close, even if they weren’t anymore. It’s okay to feel the weight of their absence, even if your lives had drifted apart. Because grief isn’t just about who we lose — it’s about what they meant, what they touched, and what they leave behind in us.
And maybe, just maybe, honoring that grief is a way of honoring the life you shared — no matter how long ago it was.
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