November is supposed to be a month of reflection and gratitude. For me, this past November was grief and heartache in its rawest form. It became a chapter I’ll never forget, a time that tested everything I thought I understood about faith and resilience.

It started with losing my cat, a companion whose love had been a constant in my life. The ache of that loss was still fresh, still sitting heavy in my chest, when twelve days later my mother passed away unexpectedly.

While everyone else across the country was gathered around tables for Thanksgiving, celebrating with their families, I was gathered with mine for an entirely different reason. We watched my mother slip into the eternal embrace of death. She left this world peacefully, surrounded by those who loved her most.

Now I’m faced with the heavy, surreal task of navigating life without her. Sorting through her belongings, managing all the practical bullshit that comes with loss, confronting the emotional void she left behind. It feels like wandering through a labyrinth with no clear exit.

In moments like these, it’s tempting to ask why. Am I being tested? Is there some grand purpose behind this pain? But I’ve come to understand that those thoughts, while completely human, are inherently self-centered. Life isn’t a series of tests crafted specifically for us to endure or decode. It’s a mosaic of joy and sorrow, beginnings and endings, light and darkness. The losses we face aren’t messages or trials. They’re just the hard truths of existence.

What sustains me in this darkness is my faith in Hekate. She’s the Keeper of Keys, the Guide through the crossroads, the Light in the darkness. When despair threatens to swallow me whole, I look to Her blazing torches, trusting they can burn away the darkness that wants to consume me. She reminds me that even in grief, there’s transformation. Even in loss, there’s wisdom to be gained.

Grief isn’t linear. It doesn’t have a clear resolution or a neat endpoint. It twists and turns, ebbs and flows like a tide, often pulling you under just when you think you’ve found solid ground. There’s no timeline for healing, no definitive end to the ache. You just gradually learn to carry it with you. Each day is a journey through uncharted territory, and while it feels isolating as fuck, I hold onto the knowledge that I’m not truly alone.

Hekate, the Keeper of Keys and Guardian of the Crossroads, walks beside me through this darkness. Her presence is a steady reminder that even in my lowest moments, there’s a light to be found. Her torches illuminate the shadows, showing me that grief isn’t something to overcome but something to honor and integrate. In Her wisdom, I find solace. In Her strength, I find the courage to take the next step, however uncertain it might be.

So I move forward, because there’s no path back to what was. Each step is heavy with sorrow, but I trust they’ll eventually guide me toward greater peace and renewed hope. What happened might not be a test or carry meaning beyond the inevitable truths of our mortal lives, but it’s taught me lessons I can’t ignore. Life is fragile, fleeting, and can change in the blink of an eye. It’s a stark reminder to cherish every moment, to hold close the people and joys we have today, because tomorrow they might be gone.

May Hekate’s light guide us all through the darkness.