True healing from loss begins when we stop trying to apologize for the depth of our love.

The Silence Around Grief

Grief is perhaps the most universal experience in the human condition, yet it remains one of the topics we are least equipped to discuss with honesty. At some point, every one of us will lose the things and people we hold most dear. Whether through the finality of death or the fractured silence of a breakup, loss is an inevitability. Despite this, our society offers very little guidance on how to navigate the aftermath. We are often left to wonder how to deal with the vacuum left behind when a significant presence vanishes from our daily lives.

In my own life, the past few years have been defined by a high volume of loss, including the passing of several loved ones and the end of deeply meaningful romantic relationships. These experiences have forced a reconsideration of how we conceptualize love. We often treat love as something that must be reciprocated or 'active' to be valid, but loss reveals that love has a life of its own, independent of the person who inspired it.

The Leonard Cohen Realization

The late Leonard Cohen, perhaps Canada’s greatest poet and songwriter, captured this nuance perfectly in his song "Ain't No Cure for Love." On the surface, it sounds like a standard breakup lament about the inability to escape the memory of a former flame. But there is a specific line that carries a weight far beyond simple nostalgia. Cohen describes wandering into an empty church with nowhere else to go, only to hear a voice whisper to his soul: "I don't need to be forgiven for loving you so much."

That line is a revelation. It suggests that we often carry a subconscious sense of guilt or shame for continuing to love someone who is gone. We feel as though we are failing at 'moving on' if the love persists. But Cohen’s insight is that the love itself is not a mistake to be corrected or a sin to be forgiven. It is a fundamental truth of the heart that does not require the other person’s presence or permission to exist.

Love Versus Attachment

To understand this, we must distinguish between two distinct internal experiences that often get tangled together: the love for the person and the desire for their presence. The first is a pure, outward-reaching appreciation for who they are and what you built together. The second is a form of clinging—a craving for their smile, their touch, or their company. This second element is where the suffering lives. It is the ego’s protest against a reality it cannot control.

When we try to kill the pain of the breakup, we often mistakenly try to kill the love as well. We turn to distractions, substances, or new relationships to drown out the feeling. But as Alan Watts famously suggested, when you try to deny or suppress emotional energy, it doesn't simply disappear; it manifests in unpredictable, often destructive ways. You cannot legislate your heart into indifference. Instead of trying to cure the love, we should learn to decouple it from the desperate need for the person to return.

The Alchemy of Gratitude

When we stop fighting the fact that we still love someone who is out of our life, something remarkable happens: the space previously occupied by anger and longing begins to fill with gratitude. This is not a hollow, motivational sentiment, but a profound shift in perspective. It is the choice to focus on what was gained rather than what was taken away. It is the realization that having loved someone deeply enough to hurt this much is, in itself, a rare and beautiful privilege.

I felt this most acutely after the death of my mother. For a long time, I was consumed by a victim mentality, an internal rage that asked, "Why her?" I would see other people her age and feel a bitter sense of injustice. But eventually, the love I felt for her began to override the anger. I realized I had an incredible mother for twenty-nine years. Many people never experience that kind of unconditional support for even a single day. To have had it at all makes me a lucky man, regardless of how early it ended.

Loving Without Expectations

There is a specific kind of beauty in a love that has zero expectations. To love an ex-partner who may have treated you poorly, or a friend who has passed away, or a version of a life that no longer exists, is a form of pure devotion. It is a love that asks for nothing in return. It acknowledges that the connection was real and that its value isn't diminished by its conclusion.

We don't need to be cured of this. We don't need to apologize for the depth of our feelings or feel embarrassed that we still care. By leaning into the love rather than the loss, we find a healthier way to carry our ghosts. Life is short, and the connections we forge are the only things that truly count. If you find yourself still loving someone who is gone, don't seek a cure. Seek the gratitude that lives within that love.