Today marks one year since my dad passed, and as I sit with my thoughts, I reflect on the deep and complex journey of grief. It’s a road that is neither straight nor predictable. Some days, my chest feels as light as a feather; other days, the weight of loss nearly takes my breath away. Grief is love, expressed in waves—sometimes crashing like a storm, other times arriving gently like a whisper.
My message today is for anyone who is missing someone they love.
It’s okay not to be okay. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to laugh. It’s okay to disconnect. It’s okay to rest. It’s okay to have fun. It’s okay to say no.
There is no right or wrong way to grieve. It moves like the tide—unpredictable yet constant. Some days, it feels manageable, and on others, it brings an overwhelming emptiness. But through it all, love remains.
Despite the sorrow, I am endlessly grateful for the time I had with my dad—the laughter we shared, the conversations that mattered, and the simple moments that became the most precious. Celebrating his life with family and friends, playing his favourite music, and honouring the incredible person he was brings me comfort. More than anything, I have come to understand that it’s not about how much time we have with our loved ones, but how we choose to spend it.
One of my greatest supports this past year has been my breathwork practice. The six-month breathwork facilitation course in 2024 gave me space to fully feel my grief, to breathe through the pain, and to be held by an incredible community—one that will forever be a part of my life. I am deeply grateful for their presence.
I am also profoundly thankful for my amazing mom and sister, whose unwavering support has meant the world to me. Their presence at my breathwork events has touched my heart in ways words cannot express. And to my brother—thank you for the laughter and support; I’m still holding out hope to get you breathing with me one day!
To everyone who has stood by me this past year—I see you, I appreciate you, and I thank you from the depths of my heart. Buíochas ó chroí libh ar fad.
A special note of gratitude goes to my dad’s kidney donor and their family. Their selfless gift gave my dad 21 extra years—years filled with love, joy, and cherished memories. Their generosity gave us the gift of more time together, something I will treasure forever.
But above all, I am forever grateful to my dad, Máirtín Leaca Dona. He taught me about love, resilience, and the beauty of life. Even now, I feel his presence guiding me forward.
Through my own journey with grief, I have found deep purpose in holding space for others as they navigate loss and healing. If you are struggling, please know you're not alone. There is no rush, no “right” way—only what feels right for you in each moment. Breathwork has helped me find stillness and release during loss, providing a sense of grounding and peace amid the waves of grief.
I also find comfort in the words of Donna Ashworth’s poem "When I Go", which reminds us that our loved ones never truly leave us. They live on in the moments we cherish, in the love we continue to share, and in the small, unexpected signs that remind us they are near. I feel my dad in the songs he loved, in my family’s laughter, and in the lessons he left behind. His love is woven into my life, and it carries me forward.
Grief is love, and love never fades.
For anyone missing someone today—be gentle with yourself. You're not alone. Bí cineálta leat féin, níl tú leat féin.
Lasfaidh do choinneal, go domhain inár gcroíthe,
Glórtha na n-aingeal, go gcloisfidh tú choíche.
Grá mór & siochán,
Marian xx
18/3/2025
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