The Space Between Us: Finding Strength in Loss and Connection

Trigger Warning: This article discusses themes of loss and death. Please take care while reading.

Hello,

This is my first blog back after a much-needed break, and honestly, it’s good to be back. I’ve learned a lot over the past year about stepping away, the importance of connection, and how even when we don’t have it all figured out, we still need to keep moving forward.

Let me take you back to the start of one of the most impactful friendships of my life.

I met Chris at an idea pitch event for TEDxStockholm. He gave a talk about having 10 jobs in 10 years and how none of those jobs defined his identity. That message hit me hard because I’d had my own bumps in my career journey, and I knew exactly what he meant.

After he won the pitch, I walked right up to him, played my little LinkedIn networking game, and immediately owed him a fika (that’s coffee and cake in Swedish). We met up for what was supposed to be a 45-minute fika, but we ended up talking for hours. He taught me about tools like Obsidian, where he organised what he called his "second brain," and how he mapped his networks. By the time we parted ways, I was in awe—and a friendship was born.

Chris became a huge part of my life. He helped pull me out of my shell and encouraged me to start producing content on LinkedIn. Together, we became what we jokingly called “accidental influencers,” helping each other craft ideas and step into the light of content creation. He was the kind of person who made you believe you could do more than you ever thought possible.

In September 2023, I called him and decided to have a spontaneous lunch at The Nut House in Upplands Väsby. I picked him up and teased him about how I, someone who didn’t grow up in his “hood,” knew more about his local spots than he did. It was one of those lunches that feels magical in its simplicity. We laughed, talked about life, and shared stories of our entrepreneurial journeys. Chris was also venturing into new territories, figuring out his path, and during that lunch, he led me through an exercise where we imagined ourselves a year into the future.

He asked me to project myself into 2024 and talk about the milestones I’d hit—the clients I’d worked with, the keynote speeches I’d given, and the connections I’d built and I did the same for him. He was excited about working more with Notion (which he was genius at), coaching more (which he was natural at), and doing more speaking gigs. I was so inspired by this idea that I sent him a calendar invite to meet again exactly a year later to do it all over.

Sadly, just a few weeks after that incredible lunch, Chris was gone.

Losing Chris hit me hard. It was sudden, and like any loss, it’s something I still carry. In March 2023, eight months before he passed, I launched my company and hosted an event where everyone had to bring a piece of art they’d created. I set it up like an art gallery, so when people attended, they had the chance to connect on a deeper level through creativity.

Chris brought his own art, and it was my favourite piece in the entire gallery. I loved it so much I asked him if I could buy it, and he was thrilled. He joked that he’d become a “legitimate artist” because he had sold his first piece. Now, that piece of art hangs proudly in my office, and it’s also the screensaver on my phone. It reminds me of him daily—not just of his friendship, but of the idea that even when you don’t know exactly what you’re doing, you just have to keep going. Like art, life will eventually make sense. And when I am unsure of what I am about to write about (like this piece), I hear him in my head saying, Shaena, do it.

After Chris passed and my mom’s health took a turn for the worse, I had to pause my business and focus on being with her. That break was hard to take, but it was necessary. I know not everyone has the financial means to step away completely, and it’s easy to say “take a break.” But sometimes, even if you can’t hit pause entirely, you can find small ways to give yourself some space—setting boundaries, saying no to extra tasks, or taking a few minutes to breathe.

And if you can take a full break, do it. It’s not about falling behind; it’s about coming back stronger, with more clarity. After I took my break, I returned with a renewed sense of purpose and focus.

The time I spent reflecting, celebrating Chris, and pausing when I needed to has made me more grounded. The piece of art I bought from Chris reminds me every day that, just like in life, things will come together—even when you don’t know how they will in the moment. I’m back now, more focused than ever, ready to continue building connections and helping others create meaningful relationships.

I kept that calendar invite I sent to Chris for our year-later meet-up, and this time, I invited anyone who had crossed paths with him to celebrate his life. It’s funny how even in loss, Chris continues to bring people together. A few of us gathered, and I led the “future projecting” activity he did for me. It was a beautiful way to honour him and the impact he had on all of us. And yes, I had that slice of apple pie in his honour—because during that lunch a year ago, I joked that he owed me one.

Here’s the thing: Pay attention to the people you meet along the way. As much as it hurts to lose someone, they can give you the greatest gift. It’s those connections—those moments of impact—that stay with us, shaping who we are and reminding us to keep moving forward.

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