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.

Silhouette of a female standing on a rock with other tall rock towers to her left. She has her arms outstretched in the shape of a Y. The sun is setting and the sky is red and blue and purple

Truths Are More Powerful Than Platitudes

Life is so beautiful. Life is so hard. Kate Bowler

White coffee cup on a wood table with a spoon in front of it. Coffee is spraying out of the cup, as if it's been dropped on the table. Next to the cup is a plate of sugar cookies

Gravy

He always said the years
after the meltdown — when blood vessels
inside his skull exploded —
were a bonus, that if evolution
really worked, he’d have been dead
by now.

Vertical piece of stone sitting next to a dirt path in a grassy area. In the distance, you can see a turquoise body of water, a line of mountains and cloudy skies above.

The Life That Remains

You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming. Pablo Neruda

Cherry cabinet with two doors and stars in between the upper and lower panels of the doors.

The Cherry Wardrobe

Built to last, its vertical lines are plum.
The only ornamentation, a simple
crown moulding, the inward curve
of the cavetto.

The cover of the book Stay Through The Storm with two little girls huddled together under a red tent inside a house

Stay Through The Storm

A story to bring hope in times of trouble, Stay Through The Storm is a moving reminder that we’re never alone even when things seem darkest.

Mom wearing a teal one piece bathing suit, sitting at the edge of our pool with her right arm around me. I was about 2 and am wearing a light blue one piece bathing suit. There's a wire and wood fence behind us

All You Can Do Is Try

Your kind of love, once given, is never lost. You are alive and luminous in my head. Except when I fail to listen, you will speak through me when I face some crisis of feeling or sympathy or consideration for others. You are a curb on my natural impatience and competitiveness and arrogance. When I have been less than myself, you make me ashamed even as you forgive me. Wallace Stegner, Letter Much Too Late

error: Our content is protected.