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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Road with sand dunes on either side and an orange and white barricade with a ROAD CLOSED sign on it

The Road I Couldn’t Travel

We live on the dash between our birth day and our death day. Jesse Jackson

Buster, a black border collie, nose to nose with a brown and white paint horse with a white forehead and muzzle on the other side of a wire fence

Wondering

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain. Kahlil Gibran

Folsom Lake during the drought. The water level is low in the background. In the foreground, the hills are covered with purple lupine and dotted with evergreen trees

Resurfacing

The trouble with you humans is that you are so concerned with staying afloat. Go ahead, be gouged open by love. Gulp that saltwater, sink beneath the waves. You’re not a boat, you can go under and come up again, with those big old lungs of yours, those hard kicking legs. Laura Lamb Brown-Lavolie

Dialing My Dead

The trick of functioning with grief is that of remembering and forgetting all at once. Of letting the ghost walk at your side but not block your way. Jack Ketchum

My Brother, Michael

I was only 10 when my older brother, Michael, died. Our lives, so far, had not been particularly carefree, not really, our family was a minefield and when I looked into his eyes, to share a smirk or a flinch, I knew I wasn’t the only one living in fear of being blown to bits.

Dark silhouettes of trees in a circle. The sky is pink, blue orange with stars sprinkled across it.

Waiting For His Return

Grief is the beast we all must ride. Chris Abani

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