HEALING THOUGH LOSS

Losing Someone You Love

Losing someone you love is a pain that words can never fully capture. The condolences, the people asking if they can do anything for you—but the one thing you need most is the one thing they can’t give you: your loved one back.

When Chenelle passed away, it felt like a bad dream. She was only 42 and full of life—she had been that way since we were kids. We always joked about how I was the accident-prone one, always ending up in the hospital, while she seemed kissed by angels. How could we both jump off a swing, but only I break my arm? Or when we were little girls jumping on the bed, I was the one who fell off and cut my head. If that wasn’t luck, I don’t know what was. We had wild imaginations back then. How could she be gone now? I ask myself—why not me? I’m the unhealthy one.

As I work through the confusion and pain, I struggle not to turn to food, which has always been my comfort. But you know what? I’m going to get through this. I have to. I will live for her because she will never be truly gone or forgotten as long as the love remains.

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Finding the Strength to Keep Going

I was already on my weight loss journey before Chenelle passed away. I had made the decision to take care of myself, to become healthier, to push forward. But when she was suddenly gone, everything changed. The grief was overwhelming, a tidal wave that knocked me down, and for a while, I wasn’t sure if I had the strength to keep going.

How do you focus on self-care when your heart is shattered? How do you keep pushing forward when every part of you wants to shut down?

There were days when I wanted to give up, sink back into old habits, and find comfort in food the way I always had. But then, I’d hear Chenelle’s voice in my head—cussing me out, refusing to let me quit. My sister was a fighter in everything she did, and I know she wouldn’t stand for me giving up on myself. She’d tell me to get up, to keep going, to fight through the pain like she always did.

So I kept going. Some days, it was just one small step. Other days, it felt impossible. But I reminded myself that healing isn’t about perfection—it’s about persistence. I wasn’t just doing this for me anymore. I was doing it for her too. Because as long as I keep living, as long as I keep moving forward, a part of her moves with me.

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Learning to Stand My Ground

Where my sister was fierce, I’ve always been more of a pushover. Chenelle never hesitated to speak her mind, to stand up for herself, to fight for what she believed in. Me? I’ve spent most of my life avoiding conflict, making myself smaller to keep the peace.

But grief changes you. It forces you to look at yourself in ways you never have before. As I navigate this journey—both through loss and through rebuilding myself—I’m realizing that one of my biggest battles isn’t just with food or emotions. It’s with learning to set boundaries, to speak up instead of staying silent, to remind myself that I matter too.

I’m still learning. Some days, it’s hard. But I’m trying to love myself the way I loved Chenelle—fiercely, unapologetically. I’m learning to be kinder to Chantelle, because I deserve that. And I know, deep down, that she would want that for me too.

It’s not easy. But I’m realizing that strength doesn’t always look like fighting battles for others. Sometimes, it looks like standing up for yourself. Sometimes, it looks like choosing to love yourself, even on the hardest days.

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Choosing to Live

I’m 43 years old, and for a long time, I’ve felt like I’ve just been existing—going through the motions, doing what’s expected, surviving. But that’s not enough anymore. Losing Chenelle made me realize how fragile life is, how quickly everything can change. And I don’t want to spend whatever time I have left just existing. I want to live.

It’s not too late for that, is it?

No. It’s not.

  Living doesn’t have to mean something huge or dramatic. It doesn’t mean I have to have all the answers or that every day will be easy. It means choosing myself, showing up for my own life, and believing that I deserve more than just survival.

I don’t have it all figured out yet, but I’m working on it. And if you’re reading this, if you’ve ever felt like you were just existing too, I hope you know—it’s not too late for you either.

Welcome to this journey with me. Buckle up; this is going to be a bumpy ride.