Grief is a sacred journey

Bereavement and End of Life

Everything Leads to You

“This much I know. Everything leads to You.” Deborah Gregory, “In Full Flower” from A Liberated Sheep in a Post Shepherd World *** You were in my dream last night, healthy, waving from across the room. I

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Three Little Love Stories on the Anniversary of A Brother’s Death

1950 Jim and I sat in the backseat, our faces out opposite windows. The wind dried our sweat into salty white stains. Daddy was sick, so our parents had pulled a tiny Airstream to Arizona for a virus-free winter. We packed

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When Kindness Demands a Lie

“Give my son a kiss from me,” my mother-in-law Virginia whispers. “OK, I will,” I say as I give her hand a squeeze. She wants to kiss the child who was the center of her world. There’s no use

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Interdependence

I should have known sorrow would flood my heart. I should have known grief would grab my belly and soak my face. I should have known I’d search the crowd for my dead husband’s smile. I should have known

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A Good Hurt: Choosing to Remember Those We Miss

…there comes a time when, long after loss has been well-lived…, a small melody of love always returns.”  Dreamwork with Toko-Pa  For the seventh year, I gathered candles and evergreens for a Solstice Ritual. My son, daughter-in-law,

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Winter Solstice: Rituals of Grief, Hope, and Laughter

In 2009, the year after my husband Vic’s death, my sons and I created a solstice ritual. In Solstice Blessings: A Family Ritual of Remembrance and Love, I wrote about that first of many rituals of love and remembrance. We were on

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When Forgiveness Requires Patience

“Instead of getting angry, nurture a deep caring and respect for troublemakers because by creating such trying circumstances they provide us with invaluable opportunities to practice tolerance and patience.” ― Dalai Lama “She’s amazing,” the nurse practitioner said

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How to Remember the Sorrow We Can’t Forget

“I don’t come to Vic’s cairn so often now,” I said to my friend. She and I had walked my favorite forest trails before taking a side trail to the stone memorial where my husband’s ashes are buried.

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Keeping Love Alive When Grief Goes Underground

I miss my big brother’s Sunday calls. I want to tell him Bob Dylan won the Noble Prize in Literature. My brother Jim brought Dylan records home from college when I was 14. I want to tell him Clinton

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Letting Go of Fear

I lie in darkness under warm blankets. Willow snoozes on her bed on the floor. It’s 4 a.m. My heart pounds as though I’m being chased. No one here except me and this demon. Each breath comes knotted and

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