Dear Grief,
Can I be honest with you?
Being in a relationship with you means I have to keep unfolding, peeling back my layers, getting raw, getting naked, being vulnerable.
And sometimes, I don’t feel like I have the time for that.
The time to sit with you.
To understand you.
To listen to you.
But you show up in so many ways, and even if I try to hide or escape, you always remind me I can’t outrun you. The harder and faster I move, the more I have to tend to, the more I have to repair… until I’m left with no choice but to be still with you.
And stillness can be uncomfortable.
Which is why, I guess, it’s time to face you.
You see, God makes me live the lessons deeply, to gather the medicine, before using me to guide others.
This season, God has called me to guide the work of Grief.
Last year, when this calling first came through, I was grieving a matriarch in my family—my dad’s mom, my grandmother.
This year, I am grieving parts of myself.
Life has been in full transition these past few months. A breakup. Standing firmly in my boundaries. Practicing conflict resolution with my team. You’ve been on my back in ways I never expected. Stretching me to feel emotions I had buried so deep in my shadow self that I forgot they even existed.
And I’ve realized something: grief doesn’t only arrive with the death of a loved one.
It can show up as:
The end of a relationship
Losing a job
Missing your shadow self
Missing younger versions of yourself
The weight of capitalism and other isms
Sadness from what’s happening in the world
And so much more
In our society, grief often carries a heavy, negative connotation, and it makes sense in a world that benefits from keeping it that way. But there are communities and cultures that see grief differently: as a celebration, a reclaiming of love.
“A testament to our capacity to love and to feel deeply.” – Carly Pollack
Imagine if more of us leaned into grief’s lessons, how different the world could be.
If we used grief to call our communities together. To share meals. To sit in ritual. To honor what has been lost and embrace what still remains. Imagine the healing that could happen.
I am honored to say that I have been making time for you, Grief. And in that time, you have given me unexpected gifts:
Leading me into relationships I once prayed for
Helping me stand strong in my boundaries
Teaching me from my shadow self, and removing the fear of her
Guiding me toward joy, gentleness, firmness, kindness, and love
Encouraging me to slow down and listen more deeply
Showing me how to release what no longer serves me, while honoring what has shaped me
You are not always easy to be with, but you are a teacher, my teacher that I will keep saying yes to.
Grief, I look forward to continuing to learn from you and gathering in community with you.
Thank you, Grief.
