08/26/2026
We each have our own version of grief. It stares intently at us asking to be examined within the context of what is now lost.
Moving through it is profound. And as hard as it is to acknowledge the question it begs, what can be learned from this?
Grief often resides in the lungs. What was the last thing we said? The hardest laugh we had? The last breath’s sound? The armoring: we close off our broken hearts by rounding in our shoulders and shrinking in posture. It’s ok. It’s grief.
Getting it to move, though, is the medicine. Maybe that’s through physical activity. Perhaps screaming/singing/talking out loud. Sitting under a tree. Even taking a shower and getting dressed.
There is no timeline. Just now. Because now we are already healed and whole, living our experience, knowing it will happen again, and knowing this is part of the process. Trust the process.
I dedicate this post to the person who would’ve cheered me on for being so vulnerable. Anything worth doing…
