They Called Me the Happiest Widow They'd Ever Seen

My husband, Duncan, Telluride, Colo. He had a love of adventure and getting lost was part of the fun.

I learned I couldn't outsmart grief. I'm still learning to feel it.

When my husband, Duncan, died, I thought I could outsmart grief. I thought my spiritual practice, my meditation, my awakening would help me move through the pain without being undone by it.

Four months before he passed in December of 2020, I had a spontaneous kundalini awakening. I was in my kitchen caramelizing onions, listening to Spotify, when a surge of energy shot up through the base of my spine and burst out of my crown. It felt like all the love in the universe was coursing through me—higher than any high I'd ever known.

For six months after that, I lived inside that love. It carried me through caregiving and holding down my government job responding to the COVID crisis in Seattle, where it all began. It was the only thing that made the impossible seem bearable.

The Mask of the Happy Widow

But when Duncan died, I didn't break down. The day after his passing, I went to work. I put on a face. A neighbor said, "You look like the happiest widow I've ever seen." That was the mask I wore. Inside, I was a storm.

We didn't get last words. In his final days he stopped talking. We thought we had more time. There was no final "I love you," no note, no whispered goodbye. I felt lost and abandoned. And instead of collapsing into that pain, I did the only thing I knew how to do: I created.

I visualized and manifested the reality where we lived our perfect partnership—no fights, no miscommunication, just pure love. I wanted what I knew we had but hadn't trusted ourselves to fully show. I craved the words I never got to hear.

Manifesting Connection While Bypassing Grief

Every day, I meditated, integrating breathwork, feeling his love through every cell of my body. I told myself I would see and hear him again. There was not a shred of doubt in my mind.

Two months later, I saw his energy, a blue orb hovering over a candle. Then came his words. First through a medium, then within me.

Each day unfolded like a precious gift. I was living in an awakened timeline where I could see, hear and feel him. Not in the same way, but deeper than anything I had experienced when he was embodied.

I was so excited, alive and awake—how could I let grief pull me down? He wasn't gone, he was just residing in another frequency. One that I could experience if I matched his signal.

I manifested the hell out of that connection. But I also bypassed my grief.

I thought if I let myself fall apart, I would lose him entirely. I thought staying in an elevated state was the price of admission for the mystical experiences I was having.

What Spiritual Bypassing Actually Looks Like

The truth is I never let myself fully collapse. My grief comes out in bits like spurts when you squeeze too hard on the last bits of the toothpaste tube—messy and erratic. A moment waiting in line at the grocery store, praying not to lose it at checkout. Feeling my heart melt watching a couple holding hands. Waking up alone in our bed in tear-soaked sheets. Today, as I write these words.

Grief doesn't disappear when you bypass it. It waits. It settles into the body like an echo, and it stays there until you're ready to feel it.

I'm learning—slowly, imperfectly—to let it come when it wants to come. To stop trying to control when and where and how much I feel. To stop treating my grief like something I need to manage or transcend or vibrate above.

Holding Both Truths: Connection and Loss

The connection with Duncan is real. The communications, the love that flows between frequencies—all of it is true. But so is this: I miss his physical presence. I miss his voice in the way I used to hear it. I miss the feeling of his scruffy beard on the back of my neck. I miss the life we were building together.

Both things exist at once. He's here in ways that transcend the physical, and I still grieve what we lost in this dimension. Holding both truths doesn't diminish either one.

I spent so much time trying to earn the mystical by maintaining some elevated state. But Duncan wasn't more accessible when I was vibrating high and less accessible when I was crying in the grocery store. He was there either way. The frequency I was trying so hard to match? It included my grief. It included my messy, human heartbreak.

Grief As Part of Awakening

I'm still learning this. I'm still catching grief in spurts instead of letting it fully move through me. But I'm learning to trust that feeling it won't make Duncan disappear. It won't lower my consciousness or cut off our connection.

Grief isn't the opposite of awakening. It's part of it.

When I let myself be human—fully, messily, tenderly human—I don't lose access to the mystical. I deepen it. Because the mystical includes all of it: the transcendent experiences and the grocery store breakdown, the blue orbs and the tear-soaked sheets.

Duncan never left. He simply changed form. And so did my grief. It's not something to get through or get over. It's love that's learning to flow in a new direction.

And I'm still learning to let it guide me wherever I need to go.

Frequently Asked Questions About Grief and Spiritual Connection

Can you stay spiritually connected to someone after they die?

Yes, many people experience ongoing connection with deceased loved ones through meditation, dreams, and intuitive sensing. The key is allowing yourself to also feel the human grief of physical loss rather than using spiritual connection to avoid feeling the pain.

What is spiritual bypassing in grief?

Spiritual bypassing is using spiritual practices or beliefs to avoid feeling painful emotions. With grief, it might look like focusing only on "they're in a better place" or "everything happens for a reason" without allowing yourself to feel the sadness, anger, or devastation of their physical absence.

How long does grief last after losing a spouse?

Grief doesn't have a fixed timeline. It transforms over time but often comes in waves throughout life. The work is learning to feel it when it surfaces rather than trying to transcend it or wait for it to be "done."

Can spiritual awakening help with grief?

Spiritual awakening can provide comfort and broader perspective on loss, but it doesn't eliminate the need to feel grief. The healthiest approach is integrating both the mystical understanding of consciousness beyond death and the human experience of missing someone's physical presence.

Working with grief and major life transitions is part of my practice as a Medical Intuitive and Somatic Life Coach If you're navigating loss while trying to stay spiritually connected, I offer healing services that honor both your human heartbreak and your spiritual awareness.