Grief doesn’t arrive quietly. For Cassandra, it came like a tidal wave — devastating, disorienting, and relentless. In just a few short months, she faced the unimaginable: the sudden death of her husband, the passing of her uncle, and later, a life-changing accident. This is her story of loss, survival, and the slow, painful process of rebuilding. 

This is Cassandra’s story, in her own words:

My name is Cassandra Barrie, and grief changed everything. 

In 2015, I was 30 weeks pregnant with my son Franklin. I was newly married, running four businesses, and preparing for a beautiful new chapter — until everything shifted. My husband Glenn passed away suddenly in his sleep at just 26 years old. 

I remember the surreal stillness of that moment — like time cracked wide open. There I was: a soon-to-be mum, a business owner, a heartbroken wife. Nothing prepares you for the chaos that grief brings into your life. 

Then, on the very day Franklin was born, my uncle passed away in his sleep too. In just a few short months, my family experienced a cascade of loss that left us shaken and raw. 

By 2018, another layer was added. I was in a hit-and-run motorcycle accident. After surgery, I was left with screws in my shoulder and permanent damage — and just like that, I lost the career I’d known for over 15 years as a hairstylist. That brought on a whole different kind of grief — the grief of losing who I thought I was. 

What helped me survive? Honestly — connection. Therapy. Breathwork. Spirituality. Friends who didn’t flinch when I fell apart. But also, I had to learn how to be with my grief — not fix it. There is no “moving on.” There’s only learning to live with it. 

Grief has become my sidekick. It’s shaped my career, my motherhood, my healing, and how I now hold space for others. I’ve become a somatic therapist and holistic counsellor, and helping others navigate their own grief has given mine purpose. 

If I could tell people one thing, it’s this: grief is not linear. It’s messy. It’s inconvenient. It doesn’t come with a checklist or a timeline. But you are allowed to feel it all. You are allowed to rebuild at your own pace. And you are still worthy of joy. 

“Grief cracked me open — and somehow, in all that breaking, I found a version of myself I never knew I needed.”