Grief as a Call to Action: Facing the Next Four Years

From grief to grit, finding strength to defend our future.

Sometimes, life comes at you with an unrelenting force. That’s how 2025 has begun. A terror attack on New Year’s Day, a nation mourning the loss of Jimmy Carter, and wildfires consuming Los Angeles with a fury that defies comprehension—all in just 20 days. The grief is palpable, a shadow that looms heavier by the day.

Can you feel it too? This ache in the air will only intensify today and going forward. I had a front-row seat to the turbulence, chaos, and divisiveness that defined Donald Trump’s first presidency. I spent countless hours grappling with policies that I knew, deep down, would leave lasting scars on our country and on the values that make America what it is. Now, with his return—emboldened and vengeful—I am overwhelmed by a profound sense of mourning.

This isn’t theoretical. I know what’s coming. I know what this presidency will do to our nation, our institutions, and our people. I lived Trump 1.0 from the inside while you lived it from the outside. I fought hard to stop this from being our reality again. I am grieving for our democracy, which will face irreparable harm under his leadership. It’s no longer a question of if. His first term revealed a blatant disdain for the principles that have sustained our republic for more than two centuries—rejecting the peaceful transfer of power, undermining and attacking the free press, and dismantling truth itself. A masterclass in how to destroy trust in institutions. As someone who proudly worked in government for many years, I never got used to it. I was continually astonished by his disregard for even the most basic norms.

In the past couple of days some political pundits in the media have suggested that he may be more tempered this time. No. He hasn’t learned from his mistakes; he’s weaponized them. With fewer constraints, his ambitions are clearer than ever: consolidate power, crush dissent, and warp our government to serve his own interests.

I also grieve for the soul of the Republican Party, the party I once proudly served, built on the principles of liberty, respect for the rule of law, and fiscal responsibility. Those values have been abandoned, replaced by unwavering loyalty to one man. Independence is punished, dissent silenced. The removal of U.S. Congressman Mike Turner as Chairman of the House Intelligence Committee is proof. His integrity and commitment to national security above partisanship made him a liability to Trump’s agenda given Trump’s contempt for the intelligence community. As a former career intelligence officer, I vividly recall the day Trump stood before the CIA’s Memorial Wall, one day into his first administration, turning a solemn space into a stage for his ego.

Most of all, I grieve for the American people—ordinary people enduring extraordinary struggles. I’ve met so many of them throughout my years of public service—from hurricane survivors to victims of mass shootings. In those moments partisanship evaporated, and what mattered was helping people survive and rebuild. That’s what government should be: a force for good. Under Trump, it will be weaponized against anyone who doesn’t conform. Blue states? Good luck. The suffering will not just go unheeded; it will be exploited.

Trump is more concerned with protecting the interests of the powerful and the connected, and that’s never been more obvious than right now, as he consolidates an oligarchy before our very eyes. The needs of ordinary Americans will be secondary at best, and they will be fully politicized.

For me, the most painful part of Trump’s first term was witnessing the harm caused by a president who not only seemed indifferent to suffering, but appeared to delight in it. From children in cages at the border to the reckless mishandling of the COVID-19 pandemic, his policies often exacerbated the very problems they claimed to address. His mass deportations will be no different. The cruelty will be on full display while the real-world effects on regular Americans will be ignored.

On a personal level, grief has struck me this month with the loss of my dear friend Roxanne. Her absence is a painful reminder of the struggles we face—not just in our personal lives but as a nation grappling with loss and division. Yet, even in grief, I see the strength of community rallying around her family. It reminds me of who we are at our best—people who rise to make the unbearable more bearable, turning pain into purpose.

Grief is not new to this nation. Decades ago, we felt it in the most profound way when Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was taken from us—a voice of justice silenced by violence. The ache of his loss rippled through every community, a painful reminder of how far we were from his dream. But grief can also forge strength. It demands that we stop, connect, and act. Dr. King urged us to transform our pain into a movement for justice, equality, and love. That’s exactly what we must do as a country for the next four years.

As we honor Dr. King’s legacy today, and face the start of Trump’s second presidency, let us remember that our pain can inspire purpose. We must rally to meet the challenge before us—not with despair, but with resolve.

We’re living it—every moment, every challenge, every heartbreak.

Let’s get through this together,
Olivia