My Business Isn’t for Everyone. And That’s Ok

My Business Isn’t for Everyone. And That’s Ok

Someone recently told me my business sounded morbid.

It happened at a networking event, which, as an introvert, was already well outside my comfort zone.

Someone asked me what I did, so I told them about Grief Gifts and why I started the business.

Their response was simple.

“Sounds morbid.”

I was floored.

For a moment, I didn't really know what to say. I remember wanting to quietly back away from the conversation, make my way to my car and retreat into the safety of my own little world.

Eventually, I replied with something along the lines of:

“I don't think it's morbid. I think that in a world where there is so much sadness, there are so many people who care deeply. And their kindness shines through.”

I'm sure my actual words weren't quite that eloquent in the moment, but that was what I meant.

And I've thought about that conversation ever since.

Because I don't see Grief Gifts as being about death.

I see it as being about love.

It's about the person who hears that a friend has lost someone they love and wants to do something, but doesn't know what to say.

It's about wanting someone who is hurting to know that they are being thought of.

It's about finding a small, meaningful way to say:

I'm here.
I'm thinking of you.
I'm so sorry.
You don't have to go through this alone.

And I think there is something incredibly beautiful about that.

Grief can be uncomfortable.

We often don't know what to say. We worry about saying the wrong thing. We don't want to remind someone of their pain, so sometimes we say nothing at all.

But grief doesn't need to be avoided.

And neither does kindness.

Sometimes, the simplest gesture can mean more than we realise.

A handwritten card.

A thoughtful keepsake.

A gift chosen with intention.

Something that lets someone know that their loss matters, their feelings matter and they haven't been forgotten.

That is what Grief Gifts means to me.

It's not about death.

It's about love that remains after loss.

And I've realised something else too.

My business isn't for everyone.

And that's okay.

It's for the people who get it.

The empaths.

The givers.

The carers.

The people who feel deeply.

The people who notice when someone is hurting.

The people who want to show up.

The people who believe that a small act of kindness can make someone's darkest days just a little softer.

Those are the people I want to surround myself with.

Because perhaps if more of us were willing to show up for each other, to lead with compassion and to be a little more thoughtful, the world might be a softer place.

So no, I don't think what I do is morbid.

I think it's human.

I think it's kind.

And most importantly, I think it's love.

 

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