Processing Grief as a Highly Sensitive Soul

Honoring Our Grief and Depth of Emotion

When Your Heart Sinks
Last night, I learned that my cousin had transitioned. He was very special to me. When I heard the news, my heart sank. I looked out the window and saw a light shoot past—something unlike anything I had seen before. I knew it was him. I can't explain that moment, and I don't need to. I simply know what I experienced and what it meant to me...

​Feeling Everything Very Deeply
I am a Highly Sensitive Person. I feel things deeply. If you're reading this because you're grieving, I imagine perhaps you do too. For the highly sensitive soul—the empath, intuitive, creative, deeply feeling person—loss can move through every part of our be-ing.

We don't simply think about the person who died. We feel their absence. We remember. We question. We search for meaning. We may feel the loss in our bodies, our hearts, our homes, our energy, and our understanding of life itself.

And sometimes one loss arrives while we're already carrying another. I've experienced more loss lately, and next week I will travel to Alabama for the funeral of a dear friend.

My beloved Bill will go with me, and his presence and support help tremendously. There is something profoundly healing about having someone beside us who will simply listen, hold space, and allow us to feel what we feel.

Coming to Terms with It
​As valuable as that support is, there are moments in grief when we ultimately have to sit with ourselves. We come face-to-face with questions no one else can answer for us.

What does all of this mean?
What is it all for?
Did he do what he came here to do?
Am I doing what I came here to do?
Was he ready?
Will I be ready?
Where is he now?
What happens to us when we leave these bodies?
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Death has a way of stripping life down to its deepest questions.

Remembering Who We Were
I find myself remembering our hopes and dreams as young cousins. The world was wide open then. It seemed as though we would live forever.

And then somehow the decades pass.

We watch our lives unfold through the choices we make, the paths we take, the triumphs, the regrets, the loves, the losses, the things we accomplish and the things we leave undone.

My cousin was highly sensitive—an empath, an intuitive, a creative, a musician. He tore through life. He lived hard, wild, and free. Eventually, his body gave out. It caught up with him.

But was his life supposed to look any different?

I don't know.

Perhaps one of the difficult parts of loving someone is accepting that their journey belonged to them.
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A Remembrance WAll

Journaling and Creating a "Remembrance Wall"

Room for Not Knowing
I have listened to thousands of near-death experiences over the years, and I find many of those stories tremendously uplifting. They don't give me absolute answers about what happens after death, but they allow me to contemplate possibilities that bring comfort and hope.

So I let myself wonder.
Where are you now?
Are you okay?
Are you free?

I speak to my cousin out loud.
Let me know you're okay.
You're welcome to visit with me.

I ask The Great Spirit to bless his soul. I imagine angels surrounding him. I don't yet know the details of his passing. I hope it was peaceful.
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He was a good man.

​He believed.

And I allow myself to sit with that.

Finding Our Own Way
There isn't one correct way to process grief. For me, right now, I am journaling. I am asking The Goodness to tell me about my cousin. Sometimes I feel that I receive answers, sometimes not.

One inspiration that came was to create a "remembrance wall" on my phone for my loved ones who have transitioned. A photograph. Their name. Important dates. A note about them. Memories I don't want to lose. A place I can return to again and again to honor and connect with my loved one and the people who have helped make me who I am.

My cousin belongs there.

He was part of my soul family. A soul mate, for sure.
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allow the heart to Feel

Holding the The Photo Close to the Heart as a Way to Connect

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Let the Body Participate
I looked at a photograph of the two of us. I studied his face. Looking at it now, I feel as though he was tired.

I cried.

I held the phone against my heart.

There was nothing sophisticated about it. I simply allowed my body to do what it needed to do.

Sometimes processing grief is not about figuring anything out. Sometimes it is crying. Holding a photograph. Sitting quietly. Talking. Remembering. Sleeping. Writing. Praying. Walking outside. Letting someone love you.

Allow Yourself to Be Supported
I talk with Bill. He listens and lets me process. I cry some more.

Ava, our dog, lies near me as I type.

I blog.

Writing helps me process. Putting words around something like this gives the experience somewhere to go. It doesn't make the loss disappear, but it allows me to be in relationship with what I'm feeling rather than trying to push it away.

For another highly sensitive person, your way may be entirely different. Maybe you paint. Maybe you make music. Maybe you pray. Maybe you need nature. Maybe you need silence. Maybe you need people around you. Maybe you need to be alone.

Grief asks us to listen closely to ourselves.
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A life lived

He is Free

​He Is Free
And then I let myself imagine my cousin beyond the tiredness I saw in his photograph. Beyond the body that could no longer carry him. Beyond whatever struggles belonged to this lifetime.
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I imagine him free.
He is free.
He is free.
He is free.

Repeating those words feels True.

Etched on the Heart
Each of us processes loss in our own way. I don't believe grief is something we simply “get over.” Perhaps we allow grief to etch itself into us, carving our hearts.

It hurts.

And somehow, it can also be beautiful.

Because grief exists where love existed.

The depth of the ache tells us something about the depth of the connection.

So today, I am not trying to rush myself toward feeling better. I am allowing myself to remember him, miss him, question, cry, wonder, write, love, and hope.

If You are Grieving
If you are grieving too, especially if you are a Highly Sensitive Person, empath, intuitive, creative, or deeply feeling soul, perhaps you don't need to make yourself feel less.

Perhaps the invitation is to give yourself safe places in which to feel more.

Journal. Cry. Remember. Talk. Pray. Create. Sit in nature. Hold the photograph to your heart. Accept the love of the people and animals beside you. Ask your questions. Allow mystery to remain mystery. And honor whatever brings you genuine comfort without requiring yourself to have all the answers.

How do you process grief? Please leave a comment below if you feel called to share. And if this article was helpful to you, I would love to know.

Thank You for Be-Ing with Me
May we all gently find our way through the events of this life with as much grace and ease as possible. May we honor those who have traveled beside us, however long or briefly, and may we remember that having loved deeply is itself something sacred.
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Thank you for reading.
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Be blessed.

Love, 
Jennifer

​​​​Jennifer Michaels, M.A., RYT200
Founder of The Art of Love Counseling ⎹ Mooresville, NC
Holistic Counselor, Spiritual Life Coach, Energy Healer, Artist & Author of What is Love? My Question... God's Answer
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In Remembrance

In Remembrance of Craig Young (1969 - 2026)