02/09/2026
On Grieving The Living
As I continue to braid so many strands of grief, I think it’s important I name my process. Not in the way social media can sometimes make it seem like we are cajoling sympathy, but in my refusal to stay quiet about what breaks the heart.
Our culture doesn’t welcome grief, but especially the more complex and nuanced dynamics that still come under the black umbrella that is loss.
This year I’ve experienced long periods of anticipatory grief for those that I knew were slowing leaving. A long walk towards twilight, the end of days, an ultimate and final return to darkness. That hurts, it is its own particular weather, and like all grief forms, unpredictable without straight lines or neat borders.
But the grieving of people who are still very much alive and present in our lives? That is a complicated, multi-faceted, living process, a painful nightmare that we can’t wake from. Some days we can breathe with it, others, we are rendered gasping, without oxygen for the way this perpetual loss gut-punches us to the ground when we least expect.
When those two specific strands of grief collide and weave themselves together, you need solitude to process. But you also need ballast. In the form of the experience of others, those that know this very unique place. To feel that you are not alone, especially when there is so much controversy and judgement that comes in unsolicited ways when you least need it.
I’ve got lots I want to say on this topic, but not today. I know it’s a recurring theme not just in my own life, but those of clients I have sat with over the years.
I believe we should be bringing back ancient and indigenous grief practices as a healthy way to engage with all of life - not just the light and the rising - but with the ache of family dynamics that offer no clear end or neat resolution. To be able to know there are people and places where these deeply embodied emotions can be witnessed, free of judgement and fear.
In more contemporary history, if we saw a woman dressed in black or a man with a ribbon of black crepe around his upper arm or hat band, we’d know: this person is in transition, deep in loss, let’s address them with the reverence that deserves.
What do we have today?
For now, this book is an excellent resource for those of you grieving the living. I have a lot I will be sharing on this in time, but for now, let’s not pretend grief is something we keep shrouded in the dark.
This note is my black arm band.
🖤🖤🖤
