Letting Go: Lessons in Life, Loss, and Legacy

“One of my husbands latest art pieces that I look at every morning”

A few weeks ago, I sat down with my friend Barbara overlunch. She had just returned from clearing out her parents’ home after losing both of them in the span of two years. As she walked me through the emotional rollercoaster of sifting through decades of belongings—clothes, furniture, family photos, etc —I could feel the weight of it. Not just the physical load, but the energetic and emotional toll.

She’d spent weeks in their 5,000-square-foot house, deciding what to keep, what to donate, what to toss. She was exhausted. Not just from the labor, but from the responsibility. The legacy.

That conversation has lingered in my mind for weeks, especially as I navigate my own season of letting go—not due to death, but to transformation. My family and I are preparing for a multi-year move to Bali, (you can read a bit more about this in this blog post and in the process, we’ve been slowly releasing everything we no longer need. My office is now a guest room. My daughter’s room is becoming a workspace. Our home is being turned into a short-term rental. And the closets, the drawers, the bookshelves—all of it has been up for reassessment.

The deeper I go into this process, the more I understand what Barbara meant when she said, “This is grief work.”

Because even when it’s a joyful change—even when it’s something we’ve chosen and are excited about—there’s grief in letting go. There’s a tenderness in releasing who you once were to step into who you’re becoming.

And here’s the thing I’ve realized: the universe abhors a vacuum. When we let go, when we clear space—physically, emotionally, spiritually—something new rushes in to fill it. But we have to be brave enough to make room. We have to be brave enough to trust the process. 

Sometimes we’re holding on to things simply because we always have. A filing cabinet filled with papers from five businesses ago. Old journals that carry stories we no longer want to live by. The dress for “one day” or the tool you’ve never used but “just in case.” These objects seem harmless until you realize they’re tethering you to a version of yourself that no longer fits.

As I shredded old documents one afternoon, I thought about how much of our past we unconsciously drag with us. Every piece of paper, every photo, every digital file we swear we’ll “get to later.” But why are we waiting? If we’re not using it, loving it, or growing from it—why is it still taking up space?

A second client also named Barbara—yes, two Barbaras, both bringing me lessons—recently in one of our classes that she’s getting her affairs in order. She wants her kids to feel peace, not burden, when she’s gone. I’ve been going through this too because of all the paper filing I’ve been going through and  I don’t want to leave a mess for my family. None of us know when our time is up. But what we do now—how we curate our lives, how we release, how we simplify—becomes part of the legacy we leave.

It’s easy to think that organizing, decluttering, downsizing, is just about stuff. But it’s not. It’s about making intentional choices about what we carry forward. It’s about clearing the way for what’s next.

And sometimes, when you start letting go, it sets off a ripple effect. After we said goodbye to one of our dogs last month—one we’d loved for over a decade—I felt the sadness open a portal. It made it easier to rehome our second dog when we realized she’d be happier with family while we traveled. That grief, strangely enough, created space for gratitude, too. For the memories. For the good parents we’ve been to all of our pets.  And for the clarity to know what comes next.

fWhat are we leaving behind that someone else might one day have to touch, interpret, or carry?

What if we became stewards of our own legacy now?

Not out of fear or morbid planning, but from a place of love. Of clarity. Of courage.

Since starting this process, I’ve noticed something wild happening: every time I release something, I gain something. I let go of outdated client files, and I get a new idea for a course. I donate clothes I haven’t worn in years, and I feel ten pounds lighter. I clear my office space and we find the perfect family for our doggie. Coincidence? Maybe. But I’m starting to think the universe really does respond to spaciousness.

If you’ve been feeling stuck, maybe it’s time to look around and ask: what am I holding on to that’s actually holding me back?

Because letting go is more than a task. It’s a sacred practice.

It’s a statement to the universe that says: I trust what’s coming is better than what’s been.

And if you’re worried that letting go means losing something important—know this: what’s truly meant for you doesn’t require a death grip. It doesn’t live in clutter. It lives in clarity.

So maybe the most radical thing we can do in this season of our lives is to open our hands, release what no longer serves, and let the next chapter come rushing in.

Because when we make space, the universe always fills it—with possibility, with people, with purpose.

What might be waiting for you, just on the other side of letting go?

To your success and abundance!

Tania

Ps: the second part to the sleep episode is available on the podcast, if you or someone you know struggles with sleep make sure to listen to this week’s episode.

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