09/04/2026
Grief is not linear.
All I remember after my brother died was that the first time I cried was days later at the funeral when my friend's mother hugged me. I was 12, he was 10. Due to the genetic disease he had, I knew it was coming, but it was still a shock.
My sister died of the same disease - I was 15, she was just shy of 9. My parents dropped me off at school the next day and went to work. The teachers asked me why I was there. I said I was fine. I was frozen in trauma. Feeling was too much.
Grief was not a part of life. I never mourned the loss of pets, much less siblings.
It wasn't until many decades later did I invite grief in.
And good Goddess, did grief have a lot to say.
Today, I know how to sit with my grief, as it comes in waves and cycles. I let it move through me, without rushing it.
To many around me, esp my family, it can seem like I haven't figured out the "next stage in my life." We have been so programmed to acheive, produce, and move on, that allowing with presence can look like stuck energy.
It's not stuck. It's simply processing and transforming.
A caccoon is not a stuck caterpillar.
The other day, as the sun shone bright on a beautiful day I could not get out of bed. My body hurt with grief mourning the old versiom of me.
Loss of identity as I voluntarily retired from a career I did not enjoy but spent an entire life working towards, as well as mutually ending a 17 year partnership, selling our home, downsizing my life, changing my daughter's life, overhauling my entire belief system, and surrendering to constant uncertainty as I tread uncharted paths.
Then there is the loss of my baby as she moves into her teen years, and the loss of the me I knew as hormones drastically shift in my body.
My mind says "get out of bed & do something", but the grief says "be still."
And when I allow myself to feel, I realize I am still that young child in mourning, scared, confused, angry at God, myself, the world.
No wonder I don't want to get out of bed. Grief has something to say.
So I stay in bed and feel.
That is more productive than anything else I could have done.
In that stillness of feeling, I can finally breathe.