A Hundred Ways to Hold Her: The Moment Relief and Grief Meet

There are chapters we leave carrying more than memories.

We carry the hopes we held, the conversations we replay, and the version of the story we wished might still find its way into being.

For a long time, we may not even realize how much of ourselves remains tied to what could have been.

Until something shifts.

Not all at once. Not dramatically. But quietly.

And alongside the grief we expected, another feeling begins to emerge. One that can feel almost surprising in its honesty.

Relief.

The verse shared below is one of the intimate reflections woven through A Hundred Ways to Hold Her. This verse speaks to the quiet freedom that can emerge when heartbreak and healing meet.

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There is often a temptation to see every ending as a loss. To focus our attention on what is gone, what could not be repaired, or what never became what we hoped it might be.

But some endings invite us to look more closely. Not only at what ended, but at what was being carried along the way. The disappointments we learned to live beside. The compromises we stopped noticing. The effort it took to keep believing, hoping, and holding on when something within us already knew how heavy it had become.

And sometimes, when something finally breaks apart, relief arrives carrying its own kind of wisdom.

Not because the grief is any less real, and not because what mattered suddenly matters less. But because something within us can finally rest. The effort of holding together what was already asking too much of us slowly begins to soften.

There is a quiet mercy in recognizing that. In understanding that we can mourn what mattered without believing we should have carried it forever. That we can honour the hope we held without mistaking its ending for failure.

There is something humbling in realizing that grief and relief can exist in the same breath. One honours what mattered. The other honours what has been released.

And perhaps this is one of the quietest truths healing offers us. Relief is not a betrayal of what we loved. Sometimes it is simply the first sign that we are returning to what is true.

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If you recognize yourself here, may this feel like a gentle reminder. Some chapters ask us to release not only what was, but what we hoped might still be. And there is no failure in that. Only the quiet courage of loving something fully, and the grace of meeting its ending with an open heart.

As this collection continues to unfold, I’ll be sharing verses, reflections, and moments from the journey here on my blog, on Instagram, and via my YouTube channel.

May this space always feel like somewhere your heart can rest. ♥

If you’re just joining this journey, or would like to return to earlier verses, you’ll find previous posts linked below.

• Returning to What is True: Poetry, Presence, and the Inner Work of Becoming
• A Hundred Ways to Hold Her: Honouring the Healing Journey Through Poetry
• A Hundred Ways to Hold Her: A Healing Benediction for Courage and Renewal
• A Hundred Ways to Hold Her: Poetry About Resilience and Keeping Your Light
• A Hundred Ways to Hold Her: A Healing Benediction on Resilience and Becoming
• Where Peace Finds Us
• A Hundred Ways to Hold Her: Poetry About Self-Protection and Becoming
• When Wonder Has No Edges

Natalie, xo

This space is an offering of presence.
Words shaped through listening, reflection, and reverence.
A place where becoming is honoured, and the voice remains true.

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