I’ve Been in Your Shoes

I took this walk you’re walking now.

I’ve been in your shoes.

There’s something about loss that feels so uniquely personal — as if no one could possibly understand the ache you’re carrying. And yet, when I think back to my own walk with my dad, I know what it means to stand where you’re standing now. To feel the ground shift under your feet, to realize life will never be the same again.

You can’t hold back the hands of time. None of us can. As much as we want to freeze the moments, to hold on just a little longer, time insists on moving forward. It pulls us along, ready or not. And it’s just something you’ve got to do: walk through the grief, stumble through the memories, learn how to live with a heart that now carries both love and absence in the same space.

So dry your eyes — not because the tears aren’t real, not because the pain isn’t deep, but because I understand just what you’re going through. Those tears are holy. They mean you loved well. They mean you were loved in return.

When I took that same walk with my dad, I thought I’d never find my footing again. But I did. Slowly. Tenderly. With the help of memory, faith, and the kind of love that death cannot erase. And now, when I see someone else begin that same walk, my heart reaches out — not with answers, but with presence. Not with quick fixes, but with the quiet reassurance that you’re not alone.

Because grief, in its rawest form, is proof of love. And while love doesn’t end when someone leaves this earth, grief is the bridge we must walk to discover that truth for ourselves.

I’ve been in your shoes. I’ve walked that path. And while no two journeys are ever the same, I can tell you this: one day, the sharpness softens. The memories that now cut with pain will one day shine with gratitude. And the love you shared will keep showing up in ways you can’t always explain — in dreams, in echoes, in the quiet moments when you feel their presence close by.

So, if you’re walking that road now — with a parent, with a spouse, with anyone your heart can’t imagine living without — know this: you’re not walking alone. Others have walked it before you. Others are walking it beside you. And those you grieve are still walking with you, just in a different way.

I’ve been in your shoes. And somehow, step by step, love carried me through.