There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief … And unspeakable love …
Washington Irving

After the death of a beloved, there is no avoiding the overwhelming grief or the tears. In the immediate aftermath, we may be in shock, feel numb or even be in denial about the loss. Although everyone’s timetable is different, eventually we have to acknowledge the loss and how devastated we are. No matter how painful, we must sit with our grief and all that we’ve lost in order to start healing.

a close up image of a piece of paper with handwriting all over it

At Salt Water, we can help you learn to live with an unbearable loss. We offer ideas, strategies, tools and most importantly, hope that you can survive the death of someone you didn’t think you could live without.

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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Broken Holy Warrior

She reckoned happy meant no more more breaths of terror beltin’ ya in the face and no more chasin’ mama’s car as though she’ll stop this time 40 some years on down the road. Stop. See her. Find her worth keepin’ safe.

Beach in New Zealand at sunset. The beach is dark blue, the ocean is blue with waves of dark blue. There's a dock on the left side. The clouds are dark blue with patches of orange and some blue sky above them

One. There Is No Heartbeat.

My husband and I decided to move from Australia to New Zealand. We’d been married almost three years and were living life to the fullest. I was meeting so many new friends and people from all around the world and feeling free and young. I had been working so hard in my new job that I didn’t realize I was about two weeks late.

Jordan asleep in the hammock. He's wearing a white t-shirt and facing away from the camera. Behind him, there's a red barn like structure and trees in the distance. His book is on the lawn which stretches to the barn like structure.

Turning The Pages Of Life Without My Son

My old life is now foreign to me. I remember that life with Jordan living as if he is still here at home. I know I will never get that life back. I am watching it drift away over the horizon.

Month old Jimmy wrapped in a white baby blanket . Held by Margo who is wearing a flower print shirt

Even After I Have Forgotten

We do not remember days, we remember moments. Cesare Pavese

Brass statue of the Bodhitsava with headdress, eyes closed and right hand raised

goddess of compassion

after steven died, you would show up
on occasional friday nights
for my creative writing class

Healing The Broken Place

The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places. Ernest Hemingway

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