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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Our Secret History
If we could read the secret history of our enemies, we should find in each man’s life sorrow and suffering enough to disarm all hostility. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The Tommy Tat
Months before Tommy died, I noticed a spot on his ankle. I asked him if he was getting warts again! Tommy laughed and said that a guy he knew wanted to practice tattooing, and Tommy decided to get a small circle on his ankle.
Into The World
And it is still true, no matter how old you are, when you go out into the world, it is best to hold hands and stick together. Robert Fulghum
Dear Jack
How is it possible that five years have passed since I held you in my arms as your heart sounded its final beat? How is it possible that my heart has continued to beat the last 1,825 days? Time feels so different since you died. Yes, years come and go and can be counted, but time feels oddly stationary. As if it’s incomprehensible that life could continue on without you.
Proof
Every year on his death day I send an email to his old address: troutbum@… at what? This year it has disappeared like his voice, his touch, his scent on two flannel shirt hanging shoulderless in my closet.
Ars Poetica: Starting Over
I have forgotten how to choose fabric by the feel of the drape, how to tell by touch what will fall into folds under its own weight.