When someone you love dies, there’s a part of you that feels guilty for still being alive, aka “survivors guilt” for experiencing joy, or for finding moments of happiness. It can feel like you’re betraying them, like you shouldn’t smile or laugh when you are full of grief.
I particularly felt this way when my father died in 2012. Just a week before, I had been in a car accident, and we were both in the hospital at the same time—though in different states. I survived. He did not. For years, I struggled with survivor’s guilt, questioning why I was the one still here. Why did I get another chance at life when he didn’t? I wished the roles had been reversed, especially since he left behind my younger brother and sister—while I was a 21-year-old with “nothing to lose.”
His absence left a hole in our family, and the grief, compounded by the guilt, felt suffocating.
But eventually, I learned something essential: both things can be true. I can feel the weight of my grief and still experience moments of joy. Just because I laugh or find a moment of peace doesn’t mean I am dishonoring the one I’ve lost.
Grief doesn’t erase joy, and joy doesn’t erase grief.
Over the years, I’ve come to understand that the two can coexist. It’s possible to carry the weight of sorrow while still cherishing the fleeting moments of happiness life brings. It doesn’t invalidate the deep sadness that will always live in my heart for the loss of my daughter, my father, or anyone else I’ve loved and lost.
We grieve, and we live.
We laugh, and we cry.
We love, and we lament.
Aloha, Mamaste.