Grief used to feel like it was going to swallow me whole. Less than two weeks after a house fire left me homeless, my sister died from an overdose. The shock and pain were overwhelming. It felt like the ground had disappeared beneath my feet. For a long time, the grief was so heavy I didn’t know how I could possibly carry it. People often talk about grief like something we are supposed to “move on” from. But that hasn’t been my experience. The pain is still there. But over time, something changed. I learned that grief isn’t just suffering — it’s also a reflection of love. It shows us what mattered. It shows us what was sacred. In that way, grief can become a kind of compass. It doesn’t point us back into the past. It points us toward the things that matter most — love, connection, compassion, and the parts of ourselves that survived the fire. I still feel the pain. But now I know I can carry it. And like the phoenix, sometimes the ashes of our lives don’t mark the end of the story — they quietly point us toward who we are becoming. 🔥 The Purple Phoenix Collective