When Grief and Loss Feel Too Heavy to Hold

Greetings, Dear Ones, We are Shaltazar, the Gavish Banenu, the Energy of 33, the Master Teacher, and the Energy of 44, the Master Healer.

There are many among you now who are carrying grief, loss, sorrow, and heartache more deeply than they realise. Some of this grief is obvious to the human self. It comes through the loss of a loved one, the ending of a relationship, the loss of health, the loss of stability, the loss of work, the loss of certainty, or the loss of a way of life that once brought a sense of comfort and familiarity. Yet there is also grief that is far less visible. There is grief for the life you thought you would be living by now. There is grief for the innocence you once carried. There is grief for the trust you once held in the world around you. There is grief for the version of yourself that no longer fits who you are becoming.

Many of you are grieving far more than one event, one person, or one ending. You are grieving a great many things at once, and because your world moves so quickly, because there is so much noise, distraction, pressure, stimulation, and mental activity, many do not slow down long enough to even realise that grief is what they are carrying. Instead, they call it anxiety. They call it fear. They call it heaviness. They call it confusion. They call it fatigue. They call it emotional overwhelm. Yet beneath many of these states is grief that has not yet been honoured, acknowledged, or lovingly allowed to move.

This is important for you to understand, Dear Ones, because grief that is not consciously met does not simply disappear. It changes form. It settles into the nervous system. It clouds the mind. It colours perception. It tightens the body. It feeds fear. It can create impatience, irritability, withdrawal, numbness, hopelessness, control patterns, and a deep sense of inner disconnection. When grief is buried, it does not become healed. It becomes hidden, and what is hidden often begins to direct much of your life without your awareness.

So We say to you clearly: do not be afraid of your grief. Do not make your sorrow into an enemy. Do not judge yourself for what you feel. Grief is not a sign that you are weak. It is not proof that you are broken. It is not evidence that you have failed spiritually. Grief is often the sacred echo of love. You do not grieve deeply unless something mattered deeply. You do not ache in this way unless your heart has known connection, meaning, tenderness, or hope. Your grief is not only about what was lost. It is also about what was loved.

This is why We say that grief must not be rushed. Your world has taught many of you to move quickly past pain, to get back to normal, to be productive again, to appear strong, to function, to perform, and to carry on as though the heart can simply be instructed to stop hurting. Yet grief does not respond well to pressure. It does not open under force. It does not heal through denial. Grief asks for presence. It asks for honesty. It asks for space. It asks that you stop trying to outrun what your Soul and heart are asking you to feel.

Many humans suffer twice in times of grief. First, they suffer because they have lost something real. Then they suffer again because they resist their own natural response to that loss. They tell themselves they should be over it by now. They tell themselves others have had it worse. They tell themselves they must be positive. They tell themselves they are tired of feeling this way. They tell themselves that if they were more evolved, more spiritual, more awakened, they would not still be hurting. Yet Dear Ones, love does not speak to grief in this way. Love does not shame the hurting heart. Love sits beside it. Love breathes with it. Love allows the tears. Love honours the ache. Love says, yes, this is painful, and yes, you are still held.

The healing of grief begins when you stop making war with what you feel. The healing begins when you can sit quietly with your sorrow and say, something in me is hurting, and I will not abandon myself for that. Something in me is grieving, and I will not rush this part of myself because the world is uncomfortable with pain. Something in me needs tenderness, not correction. In this way, grief begins to become a passage rather than a prison.

There is also something more We wish to share. Grief is not only emotional. It is energetic. It can shake your sense of identity. It can loosen your connection to time, direction, purpose, and reality itself. It can make the world feel unfamiliar. It can make you feel as though even Spirit has gone quiet. This is why in times of grief many of you feel ungrounded, disoriented, or as though you have been left alone in the dark. But you are not alone. You have not been abandoned. You are moving through a threshold where an old form has dissolved and a new inner relationship with life must be born.

This is why simple loving practices matter so much in times of grief. Not because they erase the pain, but because they help you stay connected while the pain moves. Breathe slowly. Place your hand upon your heart. Sit with a tree. Walk gently in nature. Speak honestly to the Universe. Cry when the tears come. Rest when the body asks for rest. Let trusted loving people witness you. Write what you are feeling. Name what has been lost. Name what still matters. Name what you need. These small acts of presence create openings through which grace can enter.

You do not need to solve your grief all at once. You do not need to understand it all in one moment. You do not need to force meaning where meaning has not yet fully revealed itself. Sometimes your task is not to make sense of the loss too quickly. Sometimes your task is simply to stay present enough that the loss does not turn you against yourself.

And know this, Dear Ones: grief can deepen you. We are not saying that loss is good, nor are We saying that pain is required for spiritual growth. But We are saying that when grief is met consciously, tenderly, and truthfully, it can soften what has been hardened within you. It can strip away illusion. It can humble the mind. It can open compassion. It can make you more real, more present, more available to what truly matters. It can return you to the essential. It can bring you to the place where you no longer seek only to avoid pain, but to live more honestly, more lovingly, and more awake.

So if you are grieving, be gentle with yourself. If another is grieving, be gentle with them. Do not try to fix every sorrow. Do not try to explain away every tear. Do not be so quick to turn pain into a lesson before it has first been honoured as pain. The heart needs witnessing before it can fully receive wisdom.

Ask yourself gently, what am I truly grieving? Ask yourself, what part of me feels lost, broken, or left behind? Ask yourself, what would love say to this pain right now? Not the pressured mind. Not the frightened ego. Not the voice that tells you to hurry. What would love say?

Perhaps love would say, you are allowed to hurt. Perhaps love would say, you are not behind. Perhaps love would say, this loss matters. Perhaps love would say, let yourself be held. Perhaps love would say, what has changed form has not disappeared from the greater field of love.

Dear Ones, grief is not here to destroy you. It is here to reveal where love once flowed, where love still longs to flow, and where healing now calls you into a deeper relationship with your own heart. Let your grief become a holy meeting place. Let it slow you down enough to hear what the deeper wisdom within has been trying to say. Let it break open not only your sorrow, but your tenderness, your compassion, your humanity, and your capacity to love more truthfully.

We bring you this message from a place of love. Our love for you is everlasting and unconditional.

April 9, 2026