What do I do with the future I imagined for us

You're grieving a ghost—the version of tomorrow that won't happen. The trip you planned. The milestone they won't see. The everyday moments you thought were guaranteed. This is real loss, and it deserves mourning. Mirabai's devotion was radical because it lived entirely in the present moment with Krishna, even though she knew he'd never be hers in the way she wanted. She didn't pretend the gap didn't exist. She felt it completely. What you might try: Don't erase those plans yet—that can feel like betrayal. Instead, hold them loosely. Some futures might shift: maybe the trip becomes something different, or maybe it becomes a memory you protect instead. Some futures dissolve entirely, and that's the grief you're carrying. Write down what you're losing—not to wallow, but to witness it. The normal life. The uncomplicated joy. The person who understood you without explanation. These are real deaths. Then, carefully, ask: What's still possible? Not as toxic positivity, but as honest geography. What can still happen in the time you have? What new kind of future might be building itself in the rubble of the old one? You don't have to answer this immediately. Sometimes you just sit with the grief first. That's the examined heart at work.