Something important to note is that behind every message, meeting, or project, there are people. Real people. Whether it’s a company, an organization, or a small team, it’s always people showing up, trying their best, carrying their own stories. When we move through loss or big change, our work moves with us. The pace shifts. The tone changes. And that’s okay.

It’s been a while since I’ve shown up here. I’ve opened this space a few times and just stared at the screen, not really knowing where to begin. The truth is, I’ve been moving through grief, and it’s taken most of my energy. Grief has a way of rearranging everything. The days feel slower. The world feels heavier. Even small things, sending an email, writing a sentence, cooking dinner, remembering to drink water, can take more effort than they used to.

It’s strange how quiet life can get when you’re grieving. People still move around you, work continues, the seasons change, but inside there’s this stillness. A part of you that can’t quite keep up. I used to think grief was about sadness, but since losing the most important person to me, I’ve learned hard it’s really about an abundance of love that has nowhere to go. It’s missing someone or something so deeply that it changes how you see the world. It reminds you of how much you’ve cared, how much you’ve lost, and how much still lives inside you.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve tried to let myself rest inside that space instead of rushing out of it. Some days, it’s meant doing nothing at all. Other days, it’s meant lighting a candle, going for a slow walk, or sitting quietly with music that feels safe. I don’t have tidy reflections or lessons to share, only the reminder that it’s okay to take time. It’s okay to disappear for a bit when you need to.

Being here again feels a little like breathing fresh air after holding it in for too long. I’m still figuring things out, still carrying what I’ve lost, but I wanted to show up anyway. To say hello. To say I’m still here. If you’re grieving too, for any reason, I hope you know you don’t have to move through it quickly. You don’t have to be strong all the time. You just have to keep showing up in small ways, even if all you can manage is a breath.

And if, like me, you’ve had to return to work before your heart felt ready, I hope you can find small ways to make space for yourself there too. Sometimes work can feel like an interruption to grief, but other times it becomes a quiet companion, something steady to lean on. You might notice moments of stillness between tasks, or catch yourself finding comfort in small routines. Let those moments hold you. Let the ordinary things become gentle reminders that you’re still here, still moving, even while carrying something tender.

I’ve missed being here. Thank you for waiting.