The Bravery of Turning Toward Tomorrow: The Moments That Last Long After They Pass

Change has a way of arriving quietly, yet it reshapes everything. What was once familiar becomes memory, and what lies ahead is uncertain. There’s a grief in this—grief for routines that felt safe, for chapters that once defined us, for the comfort of knowing how the story went.

Grief, as the Stoics remind us, is not something to run from. It is proof that we have loved, that we have belonged to something worth missing. To let go is not weakness but courage: the act of loosening our grip on what cannot stay, and turning toward what we cannot yet see.

Marcus Aurelius wrote, “Do not act as if you were going to live ten thousand years. Death hangs over you. While you live, while it is in your power, be good.” Though his words are centuries old, they still resonate today. Every ending reminds us that life is temporary and, therefore, precious.

I won’t pretend it’s easy. I’ve sat in those spaces myself—the ache of saying goodbye to something that once held me, the fear of stepping into a season I didn’t yet understand. I’ve also sat with others as they’ve written their own endings, too. Again and again, the same truth emerges: what feels unbearable in the moment eventually softens into a story of resilience.

There is beauty in nostalgia—the sweetness of remembering what once was. There is bravery in stepping into the unknown without any guarantees. Both belong to us. Both shape who we are becoming.

Transitions are not interruptions to life; they are life. Change is not something to conquer or avoid—it’s an invitation to live with presence, to carry forward what matters most, and to trust that even letting go has meaning.

When the weight of change feels heavy, maybe we can hold it as evidence that we are alive, awake, and deeply connected. In time, we may look back and see that the moments we feared losing—the ones that broke us open—are the very moments that last long after they passed.

Wherever you find yourself on the path of change, know that both the grief and the courage are part of the story you’re writing.

Facing the Unknown with Open Hands