Mortality always makes its way to my mind during the summer. It first started in 2008, the summer after my freshman year of college. I would wake up from that in-between place (you know, the one you’re in when you’re drifting off, but still a bit aware of yourself), terrified of what non-existence is like. No idea where this train of thought came from, but it worms its way out of my subconscious each summer.

Mortality has been on my mind lately for other reasons, though. I’m able to mine information for lessons, revisit the thoughts of a younger (and more careless) me, and see or read posts remembering or mourning loved ones all on social media. But I can’t blame social media–my timeline is just a reflection of my aging. Just growing older makes you more aware of life’s fragility, particularly when people you know and care about are facing the prospect of parting with those they love.

My parents are both the youngest children in large families, so I’ve never been a stranger to death, unfortunately, but in 2015, I witnessed more than my share of grief. I saw it in all its nakedness, and it’s hideous. It wails and moans and screams in desperation and despair. Sometimes, though, it sits with eyes glazed over, numbed from even the thought of its cause. Grief can be beautiful, too. At its most beautiful, grief allows a mother to acknowledge that she misses her baby boy, but is eternally thankful for the years she had with him. It gives a sister the strength to push past her own sadness for her brother’s life so that she can tend to her niece. Grief can even grant a son the ability to hold his mother’s hand and reassure her that it is okay to let go.

Grief is just a misunderstood manifestation of love; 2015 taught me that. It is love that keeps the beautiful memories of our beloveds fresh in our minds. It gives us the energy to cry, moan, and wail until it later provides the motivation to keep living. It is love, not time, that heals all the wounds and aches that come from losing someone too soon, too young, or too anything.

As my mind continues to wonder about what’s next, my hope is that my heart keeps me focused on the here and now, so that I can continue to love no matter the circumstances.