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.

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Brave

Scared is what you’re feeling. Brave is what you’re doing. Emma Donoghue

The Storm

I know a little more how much a simple thing like a snowfall can mean to a person. Sylvia Plath

Joy Will Come Again

For now, it is enough to know that joy exists, that I have felt it and that it will come again. Que Minh Luu

Dear Sepiuta

As I write this, you are just two years old. I know being two feels grown to you. but I am going to ask your Mom to keep this letter until you are a little older. I trust she will know when you are ready.

Seven Ways To Find Hope

My journey into grief began in December 2019. My husband, Matt, died unexpectedly while our kids were home from college for the holiday break. Matt’s death revealed a drug addiction he’d been dealing with for years. He used drugs and alcohol to medicate trauma from his childhood and to escape emotions too big for this […]

You Are Not Here To Tell Me

The kindest and most meaningful thing that anyone ever says to me is: Your mother would be proud of you. Finding a way in my grief to become the woman who my mother raised me to be is the most important way I have honored my mother. It has been the greatest salve to my sorrow. Cheryl Strayed

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