When Something You Love Goes Away
Sometimes, something really important goes away.
It might be a person you love.
A pet.
A teacher.
A friend.
A home.
A routine.
Even a version of life that felt safe.
And when that happens, it can feel confusing, heavy, or unfair—especially for kids, who don’t always have the words yet.
Here’s something important to know first:
If you feel sad, mad, quiet, weird, or nothing at all—you’re not doing it wrong.
Loss doesn’t come with instructions.
Loss Can Look Like a Lot of Things
Grown-ups sometimes think “loss” only means when someone passes away. But kids lose things in lots of ways:
A best friend who moves away
A pet that doesn’t come home
Parents who separate
A favorite teacher changing schools
A grandparent who gets very sick
A life that suddenly feels different
Your brain notices when something meaningful disappears.
Your heart notices too.
Feelings Don’t Follow Rules
Some days you might cry.
Some days you might laugh and feel fine.
Some days you might feel mad at everyone.
Some days you might not feel much at all.
All of that is allowed.
Feelings don’t line up neatly. They show up when they want to.
Missing Means It Mattered
Here’s a gentle truth I tell kids all the time:
If it hurts to miss someone or something, that means it was important.
The pain isn’t proof that you’re weak.
It’s proof that you cared.
And caring is a good thing, even when it hurts.
You Don’t Have to “Be Over It”
Sometimes people say things like:
“You’re so strong.”
“At least you still have…”
“It’s time to move on.”
But healing doesn’t mean forgetting.
It doesn’t mean pretending nothing happened.
It means learning how to carry the memory without it hurting quite as much.
That takes time. And time looks different for everyone.
A Small Thing That Can Help
If you’re a kid (or helping one), try this:
Name it.
You can say:
“I miss ___.”
“I’m sad because ___.”
“I don’t like that this changed.”
Saying it out loud helps your brain and heart work together.
You’re Not Broken
If you’re hurting, nothing is wrong with you.
If you’re not hurting yet, nothing is wrong with you either.
Loss is part of being human.
And humans heal best when they’re allowed to feel, ask questions, and be honest.
One Last Thing
Even when something goes away,
what it gave you doesn’t disappear.
The love stays.
The memories stay.
The way it changed you stays.
And you don’t have to carry it alone.
Isn’t getting older grand?
A child I work with recently told me they’re scared to get older.
They talked about bigger expectations. More responsibility. Harder days.
They worried that something important might disappear—that being older would mean less fun, less safety, less magic.
It wasn’t dramatic. It was honest.
And sitting there with them, I realized how often we talk about getting older like it’s something to brace for instead of something to step into.
We warn kids about it.
We joke about it as adults.
We measure it in losses more than gains.
But the truth is, getting older isn’t just about what gets heavier.
It’s also about what gets wider.
What We’re Afraid Of When We Think About Getting Older
The fear makes sense.
Getting older does come with more responsibility.
More decisions.
More moments where no one swoops in to fix things for you.
For kids, that can feel like the end of something precious.
For adults, it can feel like a narrowing—fewer options, fewer chances, fewer firsts.
We don’t lie when we acknowledge that weight.
But we miss something important when we stop there.
What Actually Grows With Age
What we don’t talk about enough is how much capacity grows as we age.
You gain skills you couldn’t have accessed earlier:
Emotional regulation
Perspective
Knowing when to push and when to rest
Knowing what matters and what doesn’t deserve your energy
These skills don’t arrive all at once.
They stack quietly, year after year, often unnoticed until you need them.
You also gain new freedoms:
Choosing your people
Choosing your pace
Choosing how much you explain
Choosing what you no longer carry
Getting older doesn’t mean you lose agency.
It often means you finally get to use it.
Three Generations, One Moment
This all hit me in the same week I was talking with that child.
I’m getting another year older next week.
Not in a dramatic way—just one of those birthdays that sneaks up on you.
At the same time, I’m planning a summer trip with my 78-year-old mom.
We’re traveling to foreign countries together—new streets, new languages, unfamiliar places.
Watching her plan that trip is a quiet reminder of something powerful:
getting older doesn’t mean you stop exploring.
It often means you explore with more confidence, more curiosity, and fewer apologies.
In one week, I’m holding:
A child afraid of growing up
My own reflection on aging
And a parent who is still expanding her world
That doesn’t feel like decline.
It feels like continuity.
A Better Way to Think About “Older”
Getting older doesn’t mean the door closes.
It means the map gets bigger.
Each year adds tools you didn’t have before.
Each year gives you more choice about how you move through the world.
Yes, the stakes change.
Yes, responsibility increases.
But so does your ability to meet what’s in front of you.
What I Told the Child (and What I Tell Myself)
I didn’t tell my client not to be scared.
I told them that every year comes with new tools they don’t have yet—and that they won’t be alone when those years arrive.
And I think that’s the part worth holding onto.
The excitement of getting older isn’t loud.
It doesn’t announce itself.
It shows up quietly—in new skills, new freedoms, and the growing realization that you’re more capable than you once were.
That doesn’t mean life gets easier.
It means you get stronger at living it.
And honestly?
That’s something to look forward to.