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.

a panoramic photo of Pismo Beach at sunset

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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Travels With Jimmy

Ash is the ultimate reduction, the bare soul, the last truth, all else dissolved. James Hillman

Mom holding Jimmy age 18 months. Mom is wearing glasses and a tan sweater; her gray hair is held back by a clip. Jimmy is wearing a green jacket and green hat.

Everything Is Waiting For You

The doors have always been there to frighten you and invite you — David Whyte

Pink daisies in the foreground. Two women walking in the background near a dried grass field

What Grief Reveals

There are three things I can’t change – the past, the truth and you. Anne Lamott

Close up shot of pink cherry blossoms

The Cherry Tree

Only love is big enough to hold all the pain of this world. Sharon Salzberg

Red and yellow glow of a volcano against a dark blue sky

The Regrets That Burn

Be light. Go light. If you sink in here, you will burn. Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

Sometimes you have to ignore the weather forecast

My professional life has been spent fixing things or helping other people figure out how to fix things. I’m a machinist, tooling designer and occasional interpreter between mechanics and engineers. My job is to lead a small team taking theoretical repair schemes and making them reality. I thought I had a pretty good handle on processing grief after losing my mom in 2003. I was wrong. Suddenly losing my son in 2020 rocked my reality in ways I never could have imagined.

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