This week has been heavy. My heart feels tender, and emotions are sitting closer to the surface than usual. On Monday, my grandmother passed away. Though she was technically my grandmother through my mom’s second marriage, she was still very much mine. A part of my heart, a piece of my history, and someone I genuinely loved.
Even though I hadn’t seen her in years, the grief still hit hard. Memories rush in—her smile, her stories, the warmth she carried. It’s a strange ache, losing someone who hasn’t been in your daily life, but who still held a place in your soul. I’m grieving not only her absence now, but also the years we didn’t get to share, and the final goodbye I didn’t get to say.
What makes grief even more complex is walking through it sober.
I’ve lost many people throughout my life—some through tragedy, others simply due to the passing of time. And while we all know loss is a part of life, it never gets easier. Each time, it brings a new wave of emotion, a different kind of heartache. But grieving in sobriety brings a whole new level of vulnerability.
Before I chose this sober path, I would’ve reached for something to numb the pain—a glass of wine, a few drinks to blur the edges of my emotions. But now, I feel everything. All of it. The ache. The tears. The quiet moments where my chest tightens and I don’t know whether to cry or pray.
Staying steady on the road of sobriety while grieving isn’t easy. There’s no escape hatch, no shortcut through the sorrow. But what I’m learning—again and again—is that feeling the pain is part of the healing. It’s part of honoring those we’ve lost. It’s part of honoring ourselves.
I find comfort in knowing that my grandmother is at peace now, reunited with loved ones who were waiting to greet her in Heaven. That brings me solace. But my heart still hurts—especially for my stepdad and his family. Loss doesn’t just touch one person; it ripples through everyone connected to that soul.
Grief has a way of reminding us how deeply we’ve loved. And I’m learning that there’s beauty in that—even when it hurts.
If you’re walking through loss and trying to stay sober, I want you to know you’re not alone. You don’t have to have it all together. You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t hurt. You just have to keep showing up—for yourself, for your healing, and for the people who still need you here.
Feel the pain. Let the tears fall. Talk to God. Write it down. Take a walk. Reach out. Rest when you need to.
And remember: it’s okay to grieve and grow at the same time. It’s okay to feel the ache of loss and still hold hope in your heart. Sobriety doesn’t take away the pain, but it does give us the clarity to walk through it with grace.
To my sweet grandmother—thank you for the memories. Thank you for your love. I’ll carry you in my heart always.
And to anyone grieving today—whether you’re one day sober or a few years in—I see you. You’re doing better than you think. Keep going.
Sober Without Secrets 