Love feels natural, effortless, and beautiful. Yet hidden within it is a curse that only reveals itself when you lose someone you love deeply.
Put another way, buried deep within love is something we rarely talk about — its hidden cost. The harder you love, the deeper the pain of loss.
I’ve been thinking a lot about my mum. I loved her deeply. I went back to her home in Nigeria this September, the first time since we lost her. It took days before I could walk into her room. Every corner of that house carried her presence. Her voice. Her scent. Her peace. I could almost hear her call my name. It was rough.
I kept asking why the pain felt heavier than the memories. Why grief seemed to drown the love we had. I needed to process this some more, so I pulled out a pen and paper.
A realization occurred. The hardest part wasn’t just losing her. It was her final five months. Cancer is a bastard. It strips away strength and light, leaving only pain. Watching her fade and groan in agony broke something inside me. It replaced my belief in a kind universe with the cold reality of its indifference.
Since then, I’ve been reflecting on love’s complexity. It feels so beautiful and natural when it flows, but it a heavy burden that only reveals itself in loss. Grief can feel heavier than memory, louder than joy. It threatens to overshadow everything that once made love feel safe.
Maybe that’s the truth of it. The same love that brings immense joy also creates a deep void when it’s gone. Grief doesn’t end; it transforms. Sometimes it sits quietly beside you. Other times, it swallows the whole day. I suppose I could define grief as the shadow of a jewel.
The very light that fills our lives can also cast the deepest shadow when it fades. Maybe that’s the hidden curse of love — that to love deeply is to accept the risk of breaking completely. When you sign up to love and care for anyone, you are implicitly signing up to give them pain or to suffer the pain of an endless grief. Either way, we are cursed.
Here’s the thing that worries me thiough, I love my kids so deeply, and I know that they love me. Now that’s a puzzle.
But here’s what I’m learning to hold onto — the curse is also the blessing. Yes, grief is the price of love. Yes, it breaks us. But would I trade away the years with my mum to avoid this pain? Never. Would I love my children less to spare us all future heartbreak? Not for a second.
The weight of grief is simply love with nowhere to go. It’s not the opposite of love; it’s love’s continuation in a different form. And if I must carry this shadow for the rest of my life, then so be it — because it means the light was real. She was real. This love is real.
Maybe we’re not cursed after all. Maybe we’re just human. And being human means choosing to love fully, knowing the cost, and deciding it’s worth it anyway. Every single time.
Yeah, vanity. everything is vanity.
