Six years ago, my life changed in an instant. My beloved husband passed away suddenly and traumatically, and the world I knew dissolved before my eyes. Everything shifted: my family, my friendships, my surroundings, and most profoundly, my sense of purpose and perspective on life.

In the quiet that followed his passing, I wished desperately for nothing to have changed. But something did—I changed. I came to understand that we are not placed on this Earth simply to survive our days but to truly live them, with gratitude and reverence for the moment we are in. I began to embrace the truth: tomorrow is never promised, and the present is our most sacred gift. My guiding mantra became clear—one day at a time, live in the now.

In the earliest and most tender stages of grief, I joined a grief support group. For over a year and a half, five days a week, I showed up. It became a lifeline. I met people who had also experienced loss—not always a spouse, but all navigating the profound ache of absence. We were different, yet united by invisible threads of sorrow, anger, fear, and resilience.

Through these shared stories, I learned something sacred: we are all connected. Though our circumstances vary, our emotions echo one another. We cry in different languages, but the heart always understands. What many of us struggled with, however, was the lack of understanding from those closest to us. Family and friends often didn’t know how to hold space for our pain. Some took our anger and sadness personally. But grief cannot be fixed by others. It is a path only we can walk—what we need from those around us is simply love, compassion, patience, and tender care.

It was in that online grief group—among more than 125 souls—that I met Sarah. The youngest in the group to have lost a partner, Sarah radiated something deeply beautiful, something spiritually familiar. We connected instantly. Despite the distance—she lived in the United States and I in Canada—our bond grew strong. Through the grace of technology, we began FaceTiming almost daily. Our companionship became a sacred rhythm.

We created simple but meaningful rituals: dinner nights and movie nights. We would cook and eat together over FaceTime, just as if we were sitting across the table from one another. Afterwards, we’d choose a movie or a series, count down, press play, and watch together—often pausing to share thoughts or reactions along the way. These ordinary moments became extraordinary. We were no longer alone in our grief. We were together in healing.

As life unfolded, I slowly opened my heart again to love. I met someone who gently helped me rediscover joy. And yet, Sarah remained—and still remains—a sacred part of my life. My partner knows of our connection and deeply respects it. Sarah and I continue our rituals, and we’ve even begun to travel together. We’ve shared laughter, tears, long talks, and the beautiful silence of simply being with someone who understands.

Looking back, I realize that grief, though heavy and painful, also opened the door to a rare and powerful friendship. Sarah is my angel on Earth—my “spousie-spouse” from afar. She helped me heal in ways words can barely express. Our bond is a reminder that even in the darkest places, light can find its way through. That connection, even when born from sorrow, can be one of life’s greatest blessings.

To Sarah: thank you. I am so grateful for you. I love you dearly.

Grief does not only connect us to angels above—it introduces us to angels walking beside us, right here on Earth.

One day at a time. One heart at a time. This is how we heal.

Love, and harmony to you all.

And remember—your energy matters. Be the ripple.

Anna Giannone, a first-person advocate and founder of Co-parenting in Harmony. Certified Master Coach Practitioner – Co-parenting Coach. With a deep belief in the power of emotional awareness and conscious communication, she empowers individuals to lead with love, live with intention, and raise the next generation in peace and unity. You can learn more about Anna, book a session, or purchase her book via www.annagiannone.com