The Space Where Grief Turns into Love — The Power of Now During the Grieving Process

🎧 Want to listen instead of reading? I’ve created the audio version of this post, recorded straight from my heart ❤️. Scroll down to listen.

Some days, grief returns — no longer like a storm, but more like a soft ache. Tears start flowing from my eyes, and memories from the past return. A longing arrives. Not only for the past — for our walks in nature, the late-night motorbike rides, or watching stars in silence — but also for the future that will never be.

And yet, at the same time… he is still here.

Ever since my soulmate made his transition into the non-physical, to my human mind’s surprise, I’ve felt his presence walking beside me every single day. He has sent me countless hearts through physical objects, nudged me intuitively to go to certain places “with him,” he even helped me find a new apartment and he has stopped countless cars so that I can cross the street safely. If you know the driving culture here in Rhodes island, you understand how rare that phenomenon is. I’ve shared some of these stories in my earlier blog posts if you are curious to read more.

So…He’s still Here — and yet, He’s Not.

And that has been one of the hardest things for my human heart to integrate. I feel him. I speak to him every day. I hear him through my intuition and receive all these beautiful signs. But he’s not here in the way my arms can hold.

His love surrounds me. His energy guides me.

But there are still moments — like this one — where the ache of missing his physical presence takes over.

The Paradox of Knowing Love is Eternal… and Still Missing the Form It Once Had

There is this weird paradox of knowing that love and the soul bond are eternal, while still missing the form it once had.

For us humans, that missing can reach its peak when the mind wanders into the past, reliving beautiful memories — or into the future we once dreamed of. Sometimes the pain sharpens with the victim-driven questions like: “Why me?”

But again and again, when we return to what I’ve learned from presence and spiritual practice: the key is to gently return to the now.

The Power of Now During the Grieving Process

Grief softens when we meet it with full awareness, full acceptance and full presence.

By confronting the sadness and letting it arise — without resisting it, analyzing it, or pushing it away — we discover it’s not a fearful place after all. It becomes a space where peace can slowly begin to emerge. The pain doesn’t vanish instantly, but tear by tear, layer by layer, it transforms. It’s through presence and acceptance that the heart begins to heal.

If I hadn’t learned how to meet my emotions mindfully — to fully accept both the light and the dark — I’m not sure how I would’ve made it through this past month. My earlier journey with mindfulness taught me to face deep fears, buried traumas and core wounds. And even when it left me broken on the floor, it also helped me see: emotions don’t break us — resisting them does.

Through presence practice and my soulmate’s transition, I’ve come to understand something very profound:  The now-moment is where the soul lives. And in the now, our loved ones are not gone — they are just beyond form. It’s in presence that we access the eternal, formless dimension where soul connection continues. It’s not through a phone call or message, but through the quiet inner space — the space where love never died.

To close this post, I want to share one of the many magical moments I’ve experienced since my soulmate transitioned — a story that still fills me with awe and deep comfort, and hopefully brings some solace to your heart as well.

A Love Letter Beyond the Veil 

Some days ago, I said out loud to him: “You haven’t sent me any hearts for a while…”

That same day, as I was preparing a lunch and pouring olive oil into a pan, I froze.
There, in the shimmering golden oil, a perfect heart had formed.

Later that day, I felt a strong pull to go for a walk near the sea. I didn’t know exactly where I was going, but I followed the inner nudge, and his guidance number for me, “23”, on the cars’ license plates. Eventually, I was guided to the beach — to a tiny church we used to visit together to light candles and simply be.

And right there, on the sand… someone had created a heart. Waiting for me. I cried, of course. But not from sadness. From beauty. From the miracle of this connection.

Love doesn’t end.
It just changes form.

And when we meet grief with presence — we don’t only find peace, we also find the place where love continues speaking. ❤️

🎧 Listen to the blog post here