Living with Absence: A Reflection on Grief and Transformation

Author's note: This text is rooted in lived experience and was enriched through a thoughtful exchange with Roxanne Popoviciu, whose reflections added depth and nuance.

We inevitably face loss at different moments in our lives. Loss that settles deep within us. Whether it is saying goodbye to a loved one, to a relationship that no longer shapes our daily life, or turning the page on an important chapter, we are confronted with navigating grief in its many forms. Learning to live with absence, and to come to terms with what is no longer, is perhaps one of the most demanding experiences we move through. Nothing about this process is linear. Emotions surface, recede, and return again, sometimes when we least expect them.

Grief is often compared to the ocean. It is always present, sometimes calm, sometimes unsettled, but never still. At first, the waves are overwhelming. They crash with force, sweeping everything in their path. Over time, they begin to change. They are still there, but differently. And yet, some waves still rise unexpectedly, reminding us that what once was does not simply disappear. It continues to live on in us, in another way. At times, it feels as though the tide pulls back completely, leaving us with the sense, if only for a moment, that everything has settled… before the movement returns.

While the process of grief shares common threads, regardless of the loss, there are nuances we speak of far less. Experiencing a separation, for example, can feel like what might be called a “living grief.” The person is still out there in the world, but no longer part of our everyday life. We are faced with watching them exist elsewhere, differently, without us. Beyond the relationship itself, there is the loss of who we were in the presence of the other, who we were as a couple, and what we held together. Practical realities emerge as well, whether financial or tied to changes in daily life. And more quietly, there is the unsettling feeling of no longer fully recognizing ourselves, as though a part of us has been removed. Relationships create a kind of fusion in our habits, our reference points, and our sense of identity. Learning to live without that fusion, to redefine ourselves, is a demanding process, one that can be intensified when separation is marked by tension.

The loss of a loved one carries all of this, with the added and irreversible reality that the person is no longer in this world. And yet, they continue to inhabit our lives in other ways. In memories that surface without warning. In traditions we hold onto or reshape. In gestures, expressions, and moments shared with others that echo their presence. In all that they wove into our lives, and in the imprint they leave within us. Here too, practical changes take shape, reshaping daily life. But beyond what is visible, there is quieter work unfolding. Facing the absence of the other, and also the loss of who we were in their presence. Learning to live within that space, both within ourselves and around us. Grief becomes woven into the everyday, in simple gestures, in unexpected moments where absence reveals itself, and in the slow transformation of how we move through the world.

There are also forms of grief that unfold in the gaze of others, in spaces where life seems to resume its course while everything within us has been altered. Returning to work, for instance, is not merely a practical step. It is presenting ourselves with a story that cannot be easily summarized, attempting to explain an absence that has been fully lived. There is often a disconnect between the pace of the world and the pace of grief. Where clear trajectories are expected, grief leaves fragments, silences, and spaces still being rebuilt. And yet, there is this movement, sometimes fragile, of finding our way forward. Of re-entering life differently. Of carrying both what has been lost and what is slowly taking shape.

And then there are the chapters that come to an end, by choice or by circumstance, that also set grief in motion. We speak of them less. We sometimes minimize them. And yet, they shape us deeply. These transitions may take the form of professional or community changes, but also of shifts in how we live. A different rhythm. Changing reference points. Habits and commitments that no longer fit as they once did. We are called to let go, to leave behind what once formed part of our daily lives, relationships, roles, passions, even what once sustained us.

These endings become part of the larger story of our lives. They make room for new pages to be written. But in between, there is a space. A threshold where something is no longer, and where nothing is fully defined yet.

There are also words that attempt to give meaning to these experiences. Some speak of “ambiguous loss” to describe situations where something ends without fully disappearing. Others refer to “disenfranchised grief,” when losses are not always recognized or given the space they require. And there is the understanding that the bond itself does not vanish, it transforms. That we continue, in some way, to carry the other within us, differently. Whatever language we use, it points to the same reality: some losses do not close. They reorganize within us.

No matter the form loss takes, one thing remains true: grief is an inner movement that seeks to integrate absence into a life that continues.

Living within that space, returning to it again and again, may be one of the most quietly courageous acts of all.

In the wake of this reflection:

• The Double-Edged Sword of New Beginnings

• The Quiet Power of Letting Go

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What informed this reflection:

• Pauline Boss — ambiguous loss

• Kenneth Doka — disenfranchised grief

• Dennis Klass and colleagues — continuing bonds theory