There is definitely depression there. I live with it every day. Some days it is quieter than others. Some days it becomes impossible to ignore. Without my twin, it feels heavier. Her loss is felt within all of it.
Developing tinnitus two months after her death now feels inseparable from that time, from her loss, and the grief that followed.
Loss and grief are persistent. You may think of them as something loud and obvious – but more often they live quietly beneath the surface. As reality settles in, grief waits, hidden, until something cracks the surface open again. A difficult moment, loneliness, exhaustion, or a memory can suddenly bring it back, as if no time has passed at all.
Losing a twin has deepened this experience. My twin was not only a sibling; her connection was woven into my identity from birth. As the first born, she existed alongside me from the very beginning, shaping our emotional landscape, our sense of safety, and our familiarity with the world. I’m not really sure how I feel. Some days I cope better than others.
There isn’t a day that goes by where my thoughts are not with my twin.
What makes grief especially complicated is that the living continue to carry the emotional weight of both loss and being human. Love becomes longing. Memory becomes a dull ache. Stress can revive sadness. Healing is temporary because emotions return. They do not disappear completely; they simply retreat into quieter places.
This is why many people grieving choose to see their loved one differently. There is comfort in believing that the person who has passed no longer carries their emotional burdens. The living still carry loneliness, uncertainty, fear, and longing. But those who have passed are often imagined as free – peaceful, lighter, untouched by the emotional suffering tied to earthly life.
“I know my twin doesn’t think or feel like this anymore. She’s happy to be at peace. She no longer carries the human emotions that once weighed on her spirit.”
Whether understood spiritually, emotionally, or symbolically, this thought reflects a deeply human hope: that my twin is finally free from suffering. At the same time, it reveals the painful contrast between their peace and the grief of the one left behind.
There is also something important hidden within this belief: grief is not only about sadness. It’s also about continuing connection. The mind continues speaking to the person who is gone because human ties do not vanish simply because physical presence does. Especially with twins, connection can continue internally for years through thought, memory, feeling, instinct, and imagination.
Grief comes from loss, and loss is deeply felt at its core. Human emotions may feel heavy, but they are also evidence of attachment, meaning, and connection. To sit with grief is not a weakness.
Perhaps this is the hardest truth about loss and grief – those who are gone become peaceful in our imagination, while the living continue learning how to carry both love and absence at the same time.
