Short story
Grief is a strange and unpredictable companion. It lingers, resurfaces, and catches you off guard in the most unexpected moments.
Recently, a friend shared the heartbreaking news of losing her mother, and to my surprise, I found myself overwhelmed with grief all over again. My own loss—my mom—was still painfully fresh.
Wanting to offer comfort, I recorded a voice note to express my sympathies. Mid-sentence, my voice cracked, and tears spilled over. I was stunned. Why was I crying? Why did this loss, which wasn’t mine, unravel me so deeply? I collected myself, finished the message, and pushed the questions aside.
Later that day, as I scrolled through my phone, I noticed an app I had downloaded several months ago but never used—ChatGPT. On a whim, I decided to experiment with it, curious to see if this much-talked-about AI could help me untangle my emotions.
What happened next was an unexpectedly healing conversation. I’ll share that exchange with you here, edited for clarity, in the hope that it offers readers, who may be grieving, the same comfort it gave me.
Me: I just lost my mom, but every time someone else loses their mom or a family member, I grieve all over again. What does this mean? What kind of feeling is that?
ChatGPT: I’m deeply sorry for your loss and for the pain you’re feeling. What you are describing is known as secondary or empathetic grief. This occurs when someone else’s loss triggers your feelings of grief and mourning. It can be especially intense if your loss is recent or profoundly impactful, such as losing a parent.
This emotional response arises because grief does not follow a straight path; it ebbs and flows. Certain events, like hearing about someone else’s loss, can reopen the emotional wounds of your own grief. It’s your mind and heart’s way of processing the deep connection you had with your mom and her irreplaceable role in your life.
You may also be experiencing empathic resonance, where you feel deep compassion for someone else’s pain because you understand it intimately. You are not grieving for others; rather, you are reconnecting with your sense of loss and the love you shared with your mom.
While this can be difficult to handle, it also signifies how deeply you love and how connected you are to others in their experiences. If your feelings become overwhelming, talking to someone who specialises in grief, like a counsellor or therapist may help you navigate these emotions and find healing while honouring your mom’s memory.
Me: Wow. Thank you.
ChatGPT: You’re welcome. I’m here for you – take care of yourself, and please don’t hesitate to reach out if you need someone to talk to.
Neat, I muttered and smiled.
Unpacking my conversation with ChatGPT.
As I reflect, albeit amusingly, on this conversation, I truly appreciated how it expressed sympathy for my loss before diving into any analysis or explanation. It felt very human—serving as a reminder that acknowledging someone’s pain is a crucial first step in providing comfort. Too often, in discussions about grief, there’s a tendency to skip this acknowledgment and quickly move on to offering solutions or sharing personal insights, which, I admit, I sometimes do as well. However, taking the time to validate someone’s feelings creates an important space for them to feel seen and heard.
Another remarkable aspect of this exchange was the distinction made between empathetic grief and empathic resonance—terms that resonate deeply with my experience. Empathetic grief is when the loss of someone else triggers your own feelings of loss, reopening wounds you thought were healing. This is a natural, albeit painful, reaction that arises from the deep connection we have with our memories of love and loss.
On the other hand, empathic resonance describes the way we deeply feel someone else’s pain because we understand it intimately. This concept helped me articulate what I was experiencing: I wasn’t just grieving a friend’s loss, but also feeling her sadness as if they were my own. It was comforting to realize that this response was not only normal but also a reflection of the love and empathy we carry for others.
What stood out to me the most was how the description of grief captured its complexity with such precision and conciseness. Words like “ebbs” and “flows,” along with phrases like “emotional wounds,” served as fitting metaphors that portrayed grief as both persistent and unpredictable. The vocabulary didn’t simplify the experience of grief; instead, it added texture and nuance, making me feel less alone in what I was going through.
The interaction didn’t just explain my feelings; it validated them, gave them context, and provided me with a way to process them. Sometimes, what we need most isn’t a solution, but the language to understand what we’re feeling and the assurance that it’s okay to feel that way.
This encounter illuminated a profound truth about grief: we don’t completely heal from it, and perhaps that’s not the goal. Grief isn’t something we’re meant to “move past”; rather, it’s something we carry forward. It is shaped and softened by time but never erased. Grief is the shadow of love, a reminder of the connections that make us who we are.
The feelings of pain that resurface when we encounter another’s grief—whether through empathetic grief or empathic resonance—aren’t signs of weakness or unfinished healing. Instead, they are evidence of the enduring bonds we share with those we’ve loved and lost. Grief reminds us of their presence in our lives and, paradoxically, the way their absence continues to shape us.
Understanding this has given me a sense of peace. Instead of striving to “heal” in the traditional sense, I now view grief as a companion that evolves, serving as a bittersweet reminder of the depth and permanence of love.
Ode to the Sun
The writer wrote this poem in plain English to show her appreciation for the sun which she misses so much after moving to a part of the world where the sun is scarce.
Oh, Sun, my old friend,
You paint the sky with colours that never end—
Orange, gold, and fiery red,
A light that fills the day ahead.
I disagree with your blazing heat,
Burning down on every street.
You were too much so I’d complain,
Yelling at your scorching reign.
But now I live where skies are gray,
And I miss you more every day.
Your warmth is gone, your glow is shy.
I miss your heat on my tired skin,
The way you warmed my soul within.
Your strong, bold rays that lit my way,
Your power that turned night to day
Please come back, my golden star,
Brighten the world, near and far.
I didn’t know how much you meant,
Until your light was almost spent.
Oh, Sun, I’ll cherish you from now on,
For without you, my joy is gone.
Once I took you for granted; now I see—
You are the light that sets me free.
Written by Olasunmbo Olajubu, an Internal Communications Specialist who finds joy in creating meaningful connections through storytelling. Aside storytelling, she loves cooking, dancing and getting lost in a great book. A homebody at heart, she enjoys quality time with family and friends. She finds driving to work therapeutic.
