After experiencing a loss, life suddenly begins to look very different. It feels as if everything around us remains exactly the same, yet we ourselves have stepped into another time, another reality. With loss, the mind immediately enters a period of adaptation. It must learn to live with the absence of the one who is gone, and this transition is never easy. Because up until the moment of loss, the flow of life remains unchanged: our home, our room, our clothes, the places we go, the routines we follow… Everything appears the same. Yet within this sameness, one striking difference emerges: the space left behind by the person who is no longer here. And it is precisely that space the mind tries to understand amidst all the unchanged details.
For a while, it is natural for the mind to struggle to comprehend this emptiness. Sometimes it even refuses to understand, because understanding means facing the truth. Accepting that the emptiness is truly there also means accepting that life must now reorganize itself around that very void. And this acceptance carries a deep pain. That is why life continues to flow, and although the mind “knows” that the loss has occurred, this information has not yet settled into the inner world. The loss remains a fact we have heard, not a reality the mind has fully processed.
If you have experienced a loss, you have likely noticed this: you and the people who share the same loss may react very differently. Because everyone understands and makes meaning of loss in their own unique way. Understanding the loss is one part of grief; meaning-making is the stage in which all those scattered pieces slowly come together. The mind’s attempt to grasp the loss is the first step of meaning-making. With acceptance, the mind becomes aware of the empty space and understands that life must now be reshaped around it.
This realization is often painful. Accepting the emptiness does not mean we want it there. On the contrary, our first instinct is to get rid of it, to erase it, to undo it. But it cannot be undone. And this is where “anger” appears. It is the anger directed toward the emptiness we desperately try to escape but cannot. This anger sometimes has no clear direction—it may turn toward ourselves, toward others, toward life, or even toward the person who is gone. Yet anger, too, is a natural part of the grieving process.
As we tire of carrying this anger and struggle to free ourselves from it, the effort slowly gives way to a sense of helplessness. That feeling of helplessness signals the beginning of the meaning-making stage. The mind starts asking new questions: “What if this emptiness grows? What if it pulls my entire life into it like a vortex?” Meanwhile, life continues outside—days pass, routines persist, time moves forward. And at some point, we notice that the anxiety gradually softens.
Because the mind realizes that life is not being swallowed by the emptiness. Instead, life is slowly shaping itself around it. The questions then begin to change: “How am I going to live with this space? How can I shape my life around it?” And it is as if the emptiness quietly responds: “By bringing light into my darkness.”
Once we shine a light into that darkness, the mind begins to see something important: the person who is gone has not disappeared entirely. Within that empty space lie memories, moments shared, emotions once felt. We discover that the emptiness is not truly empty—it is full, but hidden in the dark. Over time, this realization gives us the strength to shape both the inside and the outside of that space. Because loss does not vanish from our lives. It stays with us. It continues to exist through the memories, the imprints, and the traces it leaves behind.
Of course, these memories sometimes bring pain. This pain arises from knowing that we can no longer create new memories with the person who is gone. But just as we learn to look into the darkness of the emptiness, we eventually find the courage to speak with the pain itself. And the pain tells us: “I am a sign of your love. I hold your sorrow, your joy, your guilt, your regret, your excitement, your anger… Everything that belongs to you is held within me.”
And then we understand: loss is not a disappearance; it is a process of creating new meaning. Pain becomes the language of grief, and memories become the greatest gift that loss leaves behind.