This year I’ve thought about and experienced a new form of grief: separating from and divorcing the partner I knew for decades, with small children caught in the middle. It has been the toughest thing I’ve done — 2025 has been a year shaped by both loss and connection.
I’ve been reflecting on how deeply intertwined loss and connection are. When we experience loss, we experience a break in connection. Regardless of whether the disconnection is chosen or not, grief follows. Losing a person, moving away from a physical place, or shedding a familiar routine are huge changes that disrupt our lives as we know them. These moments create grief because they reshape how we understand our place in the world.
But, what I’m learning is that letting go of old connections creates space for new connections. Loss creates grief, but connection—such as supportive relationships, community, even brief moments of kindness—becomes the antidote that helps us heal. Rebuilding connection can be important for our recovery because it gives us an outlet to process pain. I’m beginning to see that letting go is not just an ending; it also makes space to allow new things in.
Loss creates grief, but connection becomes the antidote that helps us heal. Rebuilding connection can be important for our recovery because it gives us an outlet to process pain.
Loss and gain work in parallel. I’ve begun to see them not as opposites, but as companions. As one thing falls away, something else quietly begins to form and I’m learning to embrace it.
As I’ve been letting go of old connections, I’ve noticed that new ones are finding their way in. Some are with people I’ve only known for a little while or not very well — it’s interesting to see how connections can deepen when circumstances change. Others are with complete strangers, who I’ve met during chance encounters. When I think about connection now, I think about every type, from brief encounters to long-term bonds – even the smallest moments can carry meaning.
Take today, for example, I met a kind stranger in a café. We talked about the weather and our kids, in true British form. And somehow, in the gentle way conversations can unfold when you least expect it, we ended up talking about the struggles we’d both faced through separation. With a few more years of experience behind him, he offered something I didn’t know I needed: hope. Real, lived hope, born from having walked this path himself.
Learning to let go so I can settle into a new life has required boundaries, resilience, and a willingness to sit with discomfort. It has asked me to carry on when things feel uncertain, and to rediscover who I am outside my roles of wife and mum.
“It really will work out ok,” he said. “It will be hard. There will be moments of despair. But sweetie,” he leaned in slightly, “you’ve got this, and you’ll get through it.”
It was a small interaction, but it felt like a moment of grace and promise.
Over the past year, I’ve also met people who have made a meaningful impact on my life. People I never knew before, and people I’ve learned to love and appreciate more deeply through our shared history and honesty. These not-so-random, sometimes slightly mad moments remind me that each day brings promise. They are gentle reminders of the kindness that exists in the world, especially when it feels like it’s waning. They show me that genuine love takes patience, empathy, honesty, and transparency.
Human connection is everywhere if you’re ready to let it in.
I’m also rediscovering the connection I have with myself. Learning to let go so I can settle into a new life has required boundaries, resilience, and a willingness to sit with discomfort. It has asked me to carry on with life and its wonders even when things feel uncertain, and to rediscover who I am outside my familiar roles of wife and mum.
This year has been one of shedding and liberation in parallel and I realise now that letting go and opening up aren’t separate acts. It’s not one or the other. It’s both, unfolding at the same time. They are two parts of the same difficult but necessary process. Endings create space for new beginnings, and learning to face into that has been central to me this year.
I carry the stranger’s words with me. I also carry the joy I feel when making new connections, and the importance of nurturing the most loving and meaningful ones I’ve built over the years. You know who you are, I see you. Thank you. Human connection is everywhere if you’re ready to let it in.