What Grief Asks of Us

Let's talk about grief.

There have been some losses in my life, in my family, and in my community lately that have had a really big impact.

These seasons of loss seem to change us irrevocably. They change who we are. They change our trajectory, our patterns, our lives. Grief is mental and emotional and physical and spiritual and existential. It touches everything.

And I find that it's rarely voluntary.

Often, loss is imposed on us. Sometimes we're prepared for it. Other times it's like the rug has been pulled out from underneath us. But even when we know it's coming... I'm not sure we're ever really ready.

Are we ever prepared for those big losses? Whether it's the loss of a person, our sense of safety or security, a job, a home, a family relationship, or even a version of ourselves?

Are we ever really ready?

And then what?

What are our first steps? Our second steps? Our one-thousandth steps?

What are we meant to do in these dark and heavy times? How do we let go? What are we meant to do for ourselves? What are we meant to do for others?

How do we walk through one of the deepest parts of being human?

I find it so interesting that, as humans, we're pretty good at gain.

We celebrate a new baby born into the family.

A birthday. A new job. A new family member through marriage.

A new home. A new adventure through retirement or some other life change.

We know how to welcome in what is beginning.

But we're not nearly as comfortable with what is ending.

The death of someone we love. The loss of a job. A home that is swept away by a tornado, a flood, or a fire.

The loss of financial security. The loss of a relationship. The loss of certainty.

Loss and letting go.

For something that every single one of us will experience, we're surprisingly unseasoned at it.

It's uncomfortable, awkward, and uncertain. It’s hard.

Because of that, so few of us feel confident in knowing how to show up for someone who's grieving. Sometimes we avoid them. Sometimes we fill the silence with platitudes because we don't know what else to say. Sometimes we worry about saying the wrong thing, so we don't say much at all.

To be honest, I do think we're getting better.

At the same time, I think we have a long way to go.

I don't think we're actually being asked to fix grief.

I think we're simply being asked to be. To be present.

To be willing to sit beside someone in the middle of something we can't solve—even as it brings up our own discomfort.

To simply say, "I'm here" or, "I'm listening."

Even if that's from across town, across the state, across the country, or across the world.

Just to let someone know they aren't carrying it alone.

I think that's where we begin.

And while I think we're getting better at doing that for each other, I believe there is definitely room for improvement when it comes to ourselves.

When was the last time you gave yourself that same space?

A space of love. Without judgement. Where you weren’t trying to manage or fix anything.

Just a quiet place inside where you can honor whatever is happening. Whether it's a life-changing loss, a disappointment, or an old hurt that has resurfaced.

When was the last time you simply sat with yourself?

Today, I encourage you to notice.

Is there anywhere in your life... anywhere within yourself... that simply needs a little love? A little support?

If there is, maybe close your eyes for a few moments.

Don't try to fix it or rush yourself through it.

Just be there.

Hold space for yourself the same way you would for someone you love, and see what comes up.

You might be surprised.

Here's to being there for each other.

And for ourselves.

With compassion. With love.

Maybe one of the most loving boundaries we can practice is simply giving ourselves permission to grieve.

To simply be with whatever is here.

And trust that, for today, that's enough.