As the pages of 2024 draw to a close, I find myself sitting with a profound understanding that has transformed how I view both loss and growth. This year taught me that grief isn’t just an emotion to process or a phase to move through – it’s the very soil from which new life springs forth.
Dr. Richard Tedeschi and Dr. Lawrence Calhoun’s research in psychological resilience, demonstrates that profound personal growth often emerges from our deepest losses. They call this “post-traumatic growth,” but I’ve come to think of it as nature’s way of ensuring that even our most painful experiences serve as catalysts for evolution.
2024 brought multiple dimensions of grief, each teaching its own sacred lesson. The Colorado Women’s Chamber of Commerce experienced significant staff transitions. Each departure initially felt like a small fracture in our organizational heart. I had to learn to fully acknowledge these losses – I even cried in front of my board when sharing about the team member’s departures. Through this something beautiful emerged: the ability to simultaneously hold grief for their absence and joy for their new beginnings. Each farewell became an opportunity to celebrate the unique gifts they brought to our story while cheering them on as they embarked on their next chapter.
Perhaps one of the most nuanced forms of grief I encountered in 2024 was mourning opportunities that weren’t written in my destiny. There’s a particular ache that comes with realizing certain doors weren’t meant to open for you, no matter how perfectly they seemed to fit into your life’s narrative. Psychologist Robert Neimeyer’s “Meaning Making Model of Grief” recognizes that part of grieving is finding a way to integrate the past with the present and future. I’ve learned that active engagement with grief transforms pain into wisdom and growth. It’s through mourning these unrealized possibilities that we create space for the opportunities that are genuinely meant for us.
It’s through mourning unrealized possibilities that we create space for the opportunities that are genuinely meant for us.
My grandmother, Marjorie B. Morrison passed away on my son’s 15th birthday this year. Her loss brought grief’s most profound lessons. She was a giant who was paramount in my upbringing. As she transitioned from this world, I found myself transitioning too – from being nurtured to becoming a source of support for others. We often grieve not just the person, but also the roles they played in our lives. I wasn’t ready for this chapter of my life to end, I’ve been George and Marjorie’s granddaughter my entire life. I’m learning to embrace, love, and nurture the part of me that is defined by my relationship with my grandparents.
The sudden loss of my dear friend Keo shook my world in ways I’m still struggling to comprehend. In grappling with this profound absence, I’ve learned perhaps the most fundamental truth about living: the importance of being fully present in each moment we’re given. Keo’s passing has taught me that love isn’t just an emotion – it’s an active practice of presence, of paying attention, of ensuring that those we care about know they are deeply valued and cherished. This loss has transformed how I move through the world, making me more intentional about expressing love and appreciation to those around me while we still have the precious gift of time together.
The most unexpected discovery of 2024 was learning that grieving who we were or who we thought we would be is an essential step in becoming who we’re meant to be.
Transformation requires the dissolution of an old form.
This isn’t just poetic metaphor – studies in neuroplasticity show that our brains physically reorganize themselves in response to significant life changes, creating new neural pathways as we adapt and grow. Thank you for the abundance of new neural pathways 2024!
Grief has many faces. Sometimes it appears as the sharp pain of tangible loss, other times it manifests as the subtle ache of letting go of idealized versions of our lives – the stories we told ourselves about who we would become and what our path would look like. Our existence is fragile. I’ve learned to embrace the Japanese concept of “mono no aware” – the bittersweetness of impermanence – something to be celebrated and appreciated through our sorrow.
As this year closes, I carry forward these precious understandings:
- Grief is not the opposite of growth but often its catalyst;
- Endings birth beginnings; and
- In honoring our losses, we honor our capacity to transform.
To my grandmother, whose wisdom continues to unfold even after her passing, and to every experience that invited me to grow through grief this year – thank you for these lessons in the art of becoming.