After the Sky: Grief, Spirituality, and the Meaning We Leave Behind

A reflection on grief, spirituality, mortality, creativity, and the ways we search for meaning, connection, and purpose throughout adulthood.

In midlife, I’ve struggled at times with hearing people say, “Your life is half over.” That perspective has always struck me as a very glass-half-empty way of looking at existence.

As an adult, I’ve spent a great deal of time questioning the meaning of life, spirituality, grief, and what happens to us after we lose the people we love. Those thoughts often lead to more questions, more reflection, and more internal dialogue.

For me, much of that process truly began after my father passed away in 2005.

Where exactly did he go? Where does someone exist after death? How are they remembered? Who still thinks about them years later?

Wrestling With Spirituality

Over the years, I’ve maintained different kinds of connections to spirituality and faith. Some days, that connection resembles the Catholic faith I grew up with. Other times, it resembles the broader concept of a Higher Power often discussed in recovery spaces. And occasionally, it feels like something much harder to define entirely.

Whatever form it takes, I think it’s important for me to believe there is something larger than myself in this universe.

As a child, much of my understanding of religion revolved around being “good” enough to earn a place in Heaven and avoid punishment. Growing older complicated that understanding. I still see value and meaning within faith traditions, but my relationship with spirituality has evolved significantly over time.

At one point, I became consumed with fears about forgetting the people I had lost — their faces, personalities, laughter, and presence.

But years later, I still remember them.

Sometimes through my own memories.
Sometimes through the stories other people continue telling.

And maybe that’s part of how we stay alive after we’re gone.

The Stories We Leave Behind

Stories carry people forward. They preserve pieces of who we were and how we impacted others.

About a decade ago, it felt like my life revolved around weddings, engagement parties, and graduations. Now, it often feels like milestone birthdays, anniversaries, funerals, and losses are the only times large groups of people from our lives gather together anymore.

As adulthood unfolds, celebrations and grief somehow become increasingly intertwined.

And I’ve realized these milestones matter more than I once believed they did.

For years, I rolled my eyes at celebrations, gatherings, birthdays, and traditions. I viewed many of them as obligations rather than meaningful experiences. But after enough loss, something shifted in me. I started appreciating the simple fact that people were still here to celebrate at all.

Birthdays especially have taken on an entirely different meaning for me.

I think birthdays deserve to be celebrated fully — maybe even excessively. Another year of being alive matters. Another year of relationships, experiences, memories, and growth matters.

Sometimes I think people dislike birthdays because they force us to confront aging, mortality, uncertainty, and questions about whether our lives have meaning.

But maybe that confrontation is important.

Creativity, Legacy, and Meaning

In recent years, I’ve invested more deeply into creative work — writing, painting, pop art, and community projects. Part of that comes from simply loving the process itself, but another part comes from wanting to connect with something larger than myself.

Creativity can sometimes feel spiritual in its own way.

It can offer comfort, grounding, reflection, and connection. It can remind us that our time here matters.

At the same time, I’m learning that creative expression probably shouldn’t be entirely about legacy or being remembered forever. Maybe the value exists within the experience itself — the act of creating, connecting, feeling, expressing, and participating in life while we’re here.

I think we all need reminders that our existence has meaning, regardless of how long people remember our accomplishments, careers, or creative work.

So I’ll keep creating.
Keep reflecting.
Keep living.

And maybe, eventually, I’ll write about whatever phase comes next.

Ready to start the conversation?

Connect with our team to learn more about therapy, grief, healing, and emotional growth at VMA Psychotherapy.