There must be something strangely sacred about salt. It is in our tears and in the sea.Kahlil Gibran
Those of us who’ve suffered one or more devastating losses often describe grief as being like the ocean with pain and longing breaking over us in waves. At times, the sadness is overwhelming, and we feel as though we’re drowning. But over time, we learn to float, to keep our head above water. We begin to recognize when the big waves are coming and become better able to deal with them. Although we never escape the sadness, we learn to navigate the waters of grief and move forward into the life we create in the wake of our loss.
During my darkest days, I found that the wisdom and experience of other grievers helped me to re-enter the world. They showed me that life after the death of a beloved was possible, that I could begin to see beauty, find grace and feel hope, even joy. They helped me realize that love was all around me, and all I had to do was lean in.
At Salt Water, our community can help you find your equilibrium and begin to heal after an unbearable loss. As Barbara Kingsolver put it so beautifully in High Tide in Tucson:
What a stroke of luck. What a singular brute feat of outrageous fortune: to be born into citizenship in the animal kingdom. We love and we lose, go back to the start and do it right over again. For every heavy forebrain solemnly cataloguing the facts of a harsh landscape, there’s a rush of intuition behind it crying out: High tide! Time to move out into the glorious debris. Time to take this life for what it is.
We invite you to become part of our community. Share your story, ask a question, make a comment. We’d love to hear from you.
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I see somebody who was never properly mothered herself, who wasn’t able to give all of herself, now being forced to drain every last ounce. She was fighting for control of her life, for direction and meaning, as if she were locked in a brutal tug-of-war. The difficulty was, my sister and I were on the other end of the rope. Ronit Plank
There is an ocean of silence between us … and I am drowning in it. Ranata Suzuki
In the early morning hour
the one after
your deepest sleep
but desperately far
from when you need to wake
From our place in the middle of the river of grief, the rickety raft begins to disintegrate.