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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In the early days of sheltering in place, I was spending a lot of time hiding in my blanket fort, watching reruns of Survivor and eating copious amounts of Skittles. I sorted my Skittles into different piles, mixed and matched flavor combinations (green and red together for the win!), and found hibernating with my candy very comforting.
I am a mother to two children, one who is earth side and one who is not. My son Douglas died from the tragic and insidious disease of addiction in July 2008, and my world as I had known it was shattered into unrecognizable razor-like shards that even I could not pick up.
I will never eat a salami and cheese sandwich again without thinking about my stepdad, Richard. We had them every time he came to visit, or when we went on trips. In his final days, it was this delightful Italian staple that kept us fed while we supported him on hospice.
Carrying home a bag of books I think of all the books I will never know about because you will not show them to me. I think of the loss of knowledge, all the things I will never know because you are not here to tell me. I cannot ask questions, I cannot be reminded. Elizabeth Alexander
There is only one life you can call your own and a thousand others you can call by any name you want. David Whyte