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.

Never miss an article or podcast! Subscribe here to be notified whenever new content is posted to Salt Water.

The author and her mother with the ocean behind them

The Different Me

It’s been almost three years since my mother ran out of time in her battle with cancer. I miss her more than words can say. I think of her every day, several times a day. I am finally at the point that I have more good days than bad, but memories still cause tears.

Jan working at her computer with Cliff to her right. The photo is black and white. Cliff has a beard and is wearing a white t-shirt with a logo on it and a watch. He's leaning on Jan's chair. Jan is wearing a white t-shirt with a long sleeve dark t-shirt underneath. They are both seated behind a desk

Our Relationship Continues

One person was brave enough to say it after my husband died: “You weren’t living with him. Why are you still so upset?”

Seth standing on a rock in front of a large lake with pine trees and another mountain in the background. He's wearing light blue jeans, black shoes, a green jacket and a baseball cap

The Pain Does Get Easier To Bear

Jody Nelsen retired from her career in university administration to serve as the president’s spouse — first at the University of Texas Pan American and currently at Sacramento State. Jody has a passion for assisting those who have lost a loved one to suicide. She lost her only child Seth to suicide when he was 25 years old.

Rudy driving a red Miata. The background is blurry.

Keep Them In Your Heart

I lost my oldest brother Rudy in December 2016. It was sudden and still to this day, a shock. Sudden death or “our of order deaths” are harder to deal with, in my opinion. I have lost people to cancer, old age, other health issues, but nothing has ever compared to how to we lost Rudy. It was a car accident. We had no warning, and we are still here two and a half years later trying to pick up the pieces.

Steph in a hallway carrying a huge bouquet of red roses and greenery in a glass vase. Her hair is up, and she's wearing a no sleeve white print shirt and blue jeans

It’s Okay To Say ‘No’

Stephanie Day Morfitt is a Licensed Clinical Social Worker in Los Angeles, specializing in anxiety, depression, trauma and grief. She is passionate about empowering teenage girls and young women, improving relationships and helping people navigate crisis and heal after loss and pain. She enjoys running, reading, watching movies and spending time with her husband, Neil, […]

Grace And Courage

Jenny, our precious one and only — the night you were born I could not imagine that 11 short years later, we would be in the same hospital, at night, again at your side, watching you depart.

error: Our content is protected.