Sometimes death is gentle and expected, allowing space to say goodbye and begin the process of grieving a loss. Other times it’s drawn out, leaving deep imprints on those who witness and live with traumatic loss.
Traumatic loss carries with it not only the absence of the person, but also the weight of the moments that led up to their final breath. Grief in these circumstances does not unfold neatly. It can be layered with images that replay, questions and a heaviness that goes beyond words.
This kind of grief holds two burdens: the sorrow of losing someone, and the pain of witnessing struggle. Both deserve equal recognition. Both shape how you're able to grieve. But it is important to grieve, rather than ignore. In losing my twin, both burdens have been part of my trauma journey.
Traumatic loss unsettles the natural rhythm of grieving. Instead of resting in gentle memories, the mind circles back to what it couldn’t change. Grieving a twin brings a kind of disorientation that’s hard to name. Losing my twin altered everything. It wasn’t about strength or weakness; it was something I had no control over – something that became inevitable, something I had to survive. When I think of my twin now, it’s my mind still finding its way through what was once too much to hold.
Living with trauma means learning to understand it rather than trying to erase it. Trauma shapes us – but trauma doesn’t only appear through loss. It can come from experiences we’re forced to endure, from the weight of uncertainty, from events like the pandemic that changed our ability to cope, how we see the world. It is still important to be kind, supportive and helpful. We all live with and have experienced some kind of trauma. Learning to carry it means facing what it was and what it still is, and finding ways to heal that makes living possible again.
Memories can help create space for the different aspects of remembering. Some memories may hold pain, others hold happy thoughts and love. Keeping a journal, writing letters, or practicing small rituals can help separate the trauma from the comforting memories, allowing both to exist without overwhelming one another. Writing has become part of how I heal – writing about grief and trauma helps me to process my loss and find meaning. It’s one reason I continue to write.
Carrying this weight alone is heavy. Sharing it in trusted spaces: with those who listen, or who understand trauma – can ease the isolation.
Trauma around death isolates us, when what has been experienced is ignored. What matters is not solutions, but being met in the truth of that loss.
Trauma is not only something you live with mentally. It lives in the body. Gentle grounding, learning to sit with trauma, or time in nature can offer moments of calm when grief stirs up distress.These small acts of care remind the body that it’s safe again.
When loss is traumatic, its meaning is torn away. Slowly, rituals, remembrance, and acts of love give shape to their memory. This does not erase grief. It simply allows grief to be carried differently.
Grief after trauma is not something you just “get over.” Instead, it becomes part of the fabric of living. With time, it may soften: not because the loss is smaller, but because strength grows around it. To sit with grief is to allow the pain to give shape to the way we carry our loved ones.
