Why am I grieving the sexual part of my relationship even though I love my partner?

Because you're allowed to hold both things at once. Mirabai knew grief intimately—her longing for the divine was inseparable from her loss, her separation, her ache. Grief isn't the opposite of love. It lives inside it. You can adore someone and simultaneously mourn what's missing. That loss is real. It's not shallow or unfaithful to feel it. Your body knows what it needs. Your heart knows what it misses. Pretending otherwise doesn't protect the relationship—it hollows it. This grief often carries other griefs too: the freedom you imagined having, the version of yourself you thought you'd be in this partnership, the future you pictured. Let yourself feel those layers. Here's what Mirabai's examined heart teaches us: grief is how we love what we've lost. It's not a sign to leave. It's a sign to stop numbing, to stop performing okay-ness, to get honest about what this relationship actually is and what you actually need. You might grieve and stay. You might grieve and eventually leave. You might grieve and discover the intimacy was never really gone—just buried under unspoken things. But you can't move forward from numbness. Grief is the doorway. Walk through it.