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.

A Scatter of Petaled Snow

White blossoms cover the path, fallen promises giving way to green

Happiness

Lately, I’ve had considerable difficulty connecting with anything – a task, an experience, some good work, a close. friend. It feels like I’m on hold, going through what it takes to drift from morning into night, on to the next 24 we’ve named a day.

Purple lilac

Aspiration

Jan Haag taught journalism, English and creative writing at Sacramento City College for more than three decades before her 2021 retirement. A former magazine editor, she is the author of Companion Spirit, a collection of poems about her husband’s death published by Amherst Writers & Artists Press. She leads in-person writing groups in Sacramento, as well […]

Heavenly Bodies

The moon is my grief and I its point of orbit. Someone once suggested that I might be the moon and not the hungry Earth holding on.

Pink Marguerite daisies

Mothered

She’s the place you came from, your first home, and she’s the map you follow with every step you take.

Where Is Joy?

Lisa Sargent lives in Carmichael with her partner-in-life, Jim, and their kitty, Bobbie. Creativity bubbled up after my retirement from the State of California. She loves writing what just shows up and sharing with other generous souls.

error: Our content is protected.