How do I deal with grieving my own writing while editing others?

You make other people's words sing, and you do it from the shadows, unnamed. Meanwhile the writing you meant to do sits quietly in a drawer, and you feel the ache of it. That is real grief, and you are right to call it that. Setting aside your own voice to lift others is a genuine loss. Being a good editor is its own quiet art, and you should not shrink it. Seeing what a piece could be and helping it get there is a rare gift. But your own writing is not gone. It is waiting, and waiting is not the same as dead. The story you tell yourself, that you gave it up for good, is the thing hurting you most, and it does not have to be true. Start small and start now. Give your own writing even one hour a week that belongs to no one else. Not to publish, not to prove anything, just to keep the flame alive. You do not have to choose between serving others' words and honoring your own. Keep a little corner of the work for yourself, and let that be enough for now.