Hi love,
The day I recorded this, I got yanked off my feet when Bella ran after another dog. The retractable leash extended, I flew in the air and landed flat in the street with knees, palms, elbows bleeding.
I’d just loaded Garth Brooks' “The Dance”, so while I’m sobbing, this song played in the background. Fitting, since this day would’ve been my wedding anniversary. Chip died five months before we were set to be married.
But that’s not the whole story.
The fall came while I was out looking for Red, a red husky puppy who wandered into our lives with sores on his body and heartworms in his blood,
who chose us, brought comfort, gentleness, and the ache of impermanence. I’d told him just the day before, “Please don’t leave me.” And when he looked up at me I heard, “I’ll always be with you.” And I cried.
This episode of Grief Heals isn't one thing. It’s a spiral. A dog. A song. A fall. A memory. A graduation inside a prison where a man met his baby girl for the first time. And somehow all of it
Grief, love, surrender, uncertainty, presence
Come together.
I didn’t feel Chip when I visited the cemetery. I felt him more inside the prison when a man reached out to tell me about the loss of his wife. We held hands. We cried. And grief moved through us like a friend who doesn’t ask for answers.
I talk about journaling, about dialoguing with grief, about the kind of forgiveness and love that happens after death, and even the complexity of things we find out too late. The things that never got said, but can get said now. Conversations we didn’t have with them, but still get to complete.
If you’re someone who’s navigating love in all its layers, judged yourself for feeling something, or not feeling something, apologized for your tears…
May this episode feel like sitting together for a while with no pressure to be anything other than what you are today.
Please reply with any memories, questions, or tenderness that opens for you because we belong to each other.
P.S. Red came back. He was out wandering free, but he chose to come home.
xoxo
I hit record not knowing what I’d say, just knowing that I felt tender and full and needed to say something, anything, about how grief has been moving in me…
What came out was a web of stories threaded by longing, scripture, comfort, hunger, shame, healing, and breath.
There’s the line: “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” And how Neil Douglas-Klotz says that in Aramaic, “blessed” can mean “ripe.” Ripe are those who mourn. That cracked something open in me because I didn’t mourn when I was young. I didn’t learn anything about mourning…
I learned to stuff, deny, ignore. I learned what our culture models.
And I was unripe.
I read a story of a little boy who was hungry, ashamed that he didn’t have food. One day a girl quietly gave him half her sandwich, and continued to do so each day, until she didn’t come back to school.
Years later, his daughter asks him to pack two sandwiches because there’s a boy at school who doesn’t have lunch.
I am learning to give half a sandwich to younger parts of myself. The ones I silenced with food, or busyness, or shame. The parts hungry for love, comfort, safety
The parts that thought those things made her bad.
This episode isn’t polished. I wander, I spiral, I tear up, I confess.
I share about masturbation at six years old, stuffing myself with food well into adulthood, soft belly breathing and how grief can stop us, soften us, witness us.
Grief says
“I see you. You matter. You make sense.”
Healing is not a straight line. There are no straight lines in nature.
Maybe this isn’t a “message” as much as it’s an invitation—to be exactly where you are. To feel what’s ripening in you. And to soften the belly. Just a little.
I’m with you in it, Lisa Michelle
P.S. A few gifts that accompanied this episode:
The Hidden Gospel by Neil Douglas-Klotz — the idea of “ripeness” instead of “righteousness” has been changing everything for me.
Mind Your Body by Rachel Sachs — her work deeply supports this practice of befriending our hunger, our pain, and our shame.
Hi Ren by Ren — a musical prayer about mental health, rigidity, healing, and softness. Trust me. https://youtu.be/s_nc1IVoMxc?si=eznS0taktBrzQ1K3
I’m also captivated by Elizabeth Zharoff’s show because she is so vibrant!!!! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gGKgklIV7Ko
I’d love to hear what ripens in you. Just reply.
In this very special episode of Grief Heals, host Lisa Michelle Zega is thrilled to welcome the podcast's very first guest, Denise Clanin.
Denise is a former accountant turned stay-at-home mom and debut novelist living in North Idaho.
What began as a simple college writing assignment over a decade ago has blossomed into Denise's novel Among the Stars - but the story behind the story is what makes this conversation truly compelling.
After losing her brother six years ago, Denise found herself returning to that forgotten manuscript during her toddler's nap times, discovering that writing became an unexpected pathway through grief.
Her novel explores themes that mirror her own journey - loss, healing, community, and the messy, complicated nature of grief itself.
In this heartfelt conversation, Lisa and Denise dive deep into how creativity can become a companion in healing, the way our loved ones continue to inspire us beyond their physical presence, and why no one is ever truly a lost cause.
Whether you're navigating your own grief journey, curious about the intersection of writing and healing, or simply love hearing authentic stories of human resilience, this episode offers profound insights wrapped in genuine warmth.
Plus, you'll discover how Denise's entire family moved together from California to Idaho after her brother's passing, the unique ways her brother's fearless spirit continues to influence her approach to building community, and how writing fiction helped her learn to be patient with herself in the grieving process.
To purchase Among the Stars by Denise Clanin, you can find it here
Of course you’ve
judged yourself for how you feel…
cried at work and then felt ashamed…
pushed something down in the name of being strong or good or grateful…
So – this wildly unpolished episode is for you.
Here’s a glorious unraveling and remembering of what I mean when I say grief heals. It isn’t about being fixed. It’s about being fully human or
Experiencing our humanity with awareness and mercy.
I think that’s what healing – experiencing wholeness – actually looks like.
So perhaps
It’s not bad to cry at work.
Perhaps, our big emotions aren’t problems to fix but parts of us seeking to belong.
Just maybe that long list of things we judge ourselves for – you know
Avoiding people, mindless eating, binging tv, sleeping all day, endless learning without doing…
Reveal how we survived.
Survived so we can be here now. ALIVE.
Sigh. – Don’t know about you, but I feel like saying thank you. Thank you to everything I’ve ever done so that I get to be here with you now.
I feel Grief as Love. Grief as witness. Grief as medicine.
Because Grief is big enough for all of it.
So that parts of me once judged get welcomed to the kindergarten carpet – There’s room for all of it
“Hey, rage – you can sit beside me on the pink square.”
Yep. Inspired by Rachel Sachs’ Mind Your Body, I imagine all of us—our whole selves—gathered on one of those big, multicolored kindergarten carpets. No part left out. Not even the ones we try to hide.
Because if love heals, then grief does too.
Come listen. Let’s remember together.
I’ve been practicing what it is to truly welcome what is – how it is.
I’m talking about welcoming what’s outside the shiny and preferred
Like the
Ache. envy. not-enoughness.
Bugs on the skin. Memories that still sting. Joy that expands vision.
I’m exploring grief as living.
Yes. Grief as response to death…
And
As a presence that awakens LIFE.
I’ve been starting my morning, lying on the earth, breathing with my tree (yes, I know how that sounds),
reading two beautiful books—Cured by Jeffrey Rediger and The Hidden Gospel by Neil Douglas-Klotz. And in that stillness, I’ve been meeting parts of myself I usually try to push away. Envy. Rage. Doubt. Dissatisfaction.
Those parts that have been
Hidden. Banished. Disappeared.
Wondering –
What if grief is how we welcome all of it? Not to fix or force change, but to become more whole.
This episode is raw. It’s unfinished. It's real. I talk about mosquitoes, spontaneous remission, ancient language, sibling rage, sacred anger, and the strange beauty of becoming a part of something bigger than myself—bigger than any one of us.
Sensing grief as a bridge
to love, to belonging, to collective healing.
When you listen, you’ll also hear how for me, grief invites the paradox of belly laughter and holy weeping, of sacred rage and deep peace.
And if you’ve read The Guest House by Rumi, you’ll know what I mean when I say this episode is one long welcome to whoever shows up at the door.
May we welcome the grief.May we welcome the life.
Lately, I’ve been feeling lost. When Chelle asked me what I meant, I described what it would be like to watch me - check my phone over and over, scroll mindlessly, walk to the fridge - open and close it a few times, go for a walk, take a nap… Rinse and repeat.
It’s been like playing pin the tail on the donkey - being blindfolded, spun around, but without a donkey for the tail.
Today, I experienced a profound shift and what started as a disorienting sense of lostness feels deeply connecting and life-affirming.
Listen and let’s explore:
What Eric Simpson calls sacred vs. profane grief
How feeling lost might actually be the doorway to deeper connection
The invitation to love what is… even when it makes no sense
This one’s for anyone who’s felt stuck, alone, aimless—or like your inner compass has gone quiet.
Because perhaps,
Grief isn’t a problem to solve…
Maybe, it’s an open-hearted guide with outstretched arms.
If it speaks to you, I’d love it if you’d share it with someone you care about.
Xoxo
I just recorded an episode that is maybe the most personal, most collective one yet.
You know by now—Grief Heals isn’t just a title. It’s a way of life. A lens. A returning. And this week, I explored how grief heals our justice work, our relationships, and the roles we all play—often unknowingly—in systems that divide and dominate.
I pulled from a familiar model: the Drama Triangle.
Victim. Persecutor. Rescuer.
These roles aren’t just interpersonal—they’re deeply systemic. And when we take on one, we often slide into all three.
This week, I invite you into a deeper reflection:
Where have I tried to save someone and lost sight of their power?
Where have I become the bully in the name of justice?
Where has grief been bypassed, ignored, or mutated into resentment, burnout, or judgment?
I talk about that moment I entered a county meeting to “stand up for the people” and ended up steamrolling others. I talk about the pain of watching family members steeped in grief they never got to name. I talk about how even our best intentions can cause harm when we skip over grief and go straight to control.
But more than anything—I talk about how grief can transform the triangle.
Grief that is sacred, not profane.
Grief that slows us down, enters gently, and listens.
Grief that composts our pain into nourishment for us all.
This episode is a love letter to the justice worker, the reformer, the wounded, the weary, the world-builder.
If you're deep in the work and wondering why it still feels heavy—this is for you.
If you’ve been the victim, the rescuer, or the one in power—this is for you.
If you're grieving what’s been done in your name or by your silence—this is for you.
Because as Gabor Maté says: Grief is the antidote to trauma.
And we don’t just carry trauma individually—we carry it collectively.
Let’s grieve together. Let’s name what’s real. Let’s remember who we are.
Thank you for showing up with your whole heart.
Thank you for naming what hurts and walking with love.
Thank you for believing with me that grief is holy, that we belong to each other, and that love—when it shows up real—transforms everything.
With you in all of it,
Lisa Michelle
P.S. The episode includes a few reflections to sit with, or journal through:
Where have I reenacted the triangle internally—with my own inner critic, rescuer, or bully?
Where has my grief gone unnamed—and how is it asking to be heard?
What might it look like to show up as a companion instead of a savior?
Let’s breathe together because we breathe the same air.
I recorded this episode inspired by an experience I had with the red ants in my yard. You heard that right.
For the whole story, listen to this week’s recording. In short, I got impatient, disrupted an ant hill, got stung, and ended up contemplating – Does God Grieve?
I’m not a theologian, philosopher, or anything else that might hint toward expert. And, I’m in awe how grief continues to teach me.
Love me.
Cause me to slow down and notice.
I’m in awe of grief’s attention to detail.
Connection to the whole story.
Grief is my path to oneness – perhaps yours too.
I recorded this podcast specifically for someone experiencing the fresh loss of a loved one. If that’s you, welcome.
I’m gonna keep this brief - and the podcast if brief too.
First. There is nothing wrong with you. You can not get this wrong.
Your body is responding to a profound disruption to your sense of normal and your entire anatomy is impacted.
Two. It’s common to feel guilty to simply live your routine.
Imagine, your person watching you now. Better yet. Imagine that the roles are reversed and you are watching them experience losing you. What do you want for them? Do you want them to stay in a perpetual state of suffering?
What if what you want for them is a permission slip of sorts for you?
You likely want to stay close to your person. How do you do that? What did they care about? What were their values, or the unique impact they made in the world.
Trying on some of those interests and traits is a way that may help you feel close to them.
Three. Being honest with yourself about the unfinished conversations between you does not hurt your person.
Even though in our culture, there is an unexamined belief that talking about the dead is off limits - that somehow it harms them - the truth is what is unfinished stays alive in you.
There is so much more in this episode… It's deeply personal with parts of my story – including how I was with the betrayal I sensed, how to get support, what to say to hurtful comments, and how to stay grounded.
And please know, I’m here – in your corner.
I recorded this podcast specifically for someone experiencing the fresh loss of a loved one. If that’s you, welcome.
I’m gonna keep this brief - and the podcast if brief too.
First. There is nothing wrong with you. You can not get this wrong.
Your body is responding to a profound disruption to your sense of normal and your entire anatomy is impacted.
Two. It’s common to feel guilty to simply live your routine.
Imagine, your person watching you now. Better yet. Imagine that the roles are reversed and you are watching them experience losing you. What do you want for them? Do you want them to stay in a perpetual state of suffering?
What if what you want for them is a permission slip of sorts for you?
You likely want to stay close to your person. How do you do that? What did they care about? What were their values, or the unique impact they made in the world.
Trying on some of those interests and traits is a way that may help you feel close to them.
Three. Being honest with yourself about the unfinished conversations between you does not hurt your person.
Even though in our culture, there is an unexamined belief that talking about the dead is off limits - that somehow it harms them - the truth is what is unfinished stays alive in you.
There is so much more in this episode… It's deeply personal with parts of my story – including how I was with the betrayal I sensed, how to get support, what to say to hurtful comments, and how to stay grounded.
And please know, I’m here – in your corner.
I don’t see grief as something to get over.
I see it as something that carries us back to what matters.
This week on the podcast, I’m sharing the heart of how I understand grief—not just as a response to loss, but as love in motion.
Grief is not the wound.
It’s the hand that tends the wound.
It’s the love that moves toward what hurts…
what was taken…
what never arrived…
and still matters.
In this episode, I meander through how this framework—this living relationship with grief—has shaped my life, my work, my way of being with others.
I share stories. Memories. Moments where grief softened me into truth.
Moments where grief showed me how to stay with what was once unbearable.
I talk about how unprocessed grief mirrors systems of domination—how we often internalize the very violence we long to dismantle.
And how grief, when we let it do its sacred work, can return us to flow, to self, to oneness.
Grief doesn’t only soften — it also disrupts.
It turns over the tables of numbness and performance.
It clears the way for real love to enter.
In that sense, grief is a revolutionary.
Like Jesus, it disrupts… for love’s sake.
This isn’t a lecture.
It’s an experience.
A wandering through the wild garden of love and longing and letting go.
A remembering that grief is not our enemy. It’s our companion.
Whether you’re in the thick of change, quietly cocooning, or simply not in a space to listen right now—I honor you.
Grief Heals is a family, and families know how to feed one another in many ways. So here are a few invitations, tools, and practices for you to carry into your own day:
Nourishment for the In-Between
Practice the pause. Take one breath. Let yourself feel exactly how you feel. No fixing. No judgment. Just presence.
Name a shift. What have you recently let go of, or what is letting go of you? What might be arriving in its place?
Try this breath: Inhale: I belong here. Exhale: Even in the in-between.
Reflection prompt: What part of your life right now feels like a threshold—a goodbye and a hello at the same time?
Up for listening…
Let’s dive deep into the beautiful, generative space between what was and what will be.
A journey where grief isn't loss, but Love– witnessing, listening, and giving a compassionate kiss to your most tender emotions.
We explore:
The magic happening underground, just like muscles breaking down to rebuild stronger
How every emotion - anger, resentment, uncertainty - has a place in nourishing your personal ecosystem
The power of welcoming all parts of yourself, just as nature welcomes every creature
We'll breathe together, stretch our arms wide, and remember: we belong to each other. Your story is not just yours - it's a sweeping, interconnected circle that touches us all.
Inspired by Amanda Owen’s The Power of Receiving and the Rumi poem The Guest House, this episode is for anyone in the middle of a goodbye and the unknown ahead…
Which, if we’re honest, is all of us.
This Episode Is For You If…
You find yourself comparing your success, your body, your parenting, or your worth to others.
You struggle with feeling “not enough” and don’t know why.
You want a way out of the pain loop that doesn’t shame you for how you got there.
Hello, hello, hello—
Let’s just take a breath together. Because you and I? We breathe the same air. We really do belong to each other.
This week on the Grief Heals podcast, we’re exploring something that affects all of us—whether we admit it or not: comparison. We’re diving into two chapters from Mel Robbins’ book The Let Them Theory, and like always, we’re holding it through the lens of grief—not as something tragic, but as love coming to meet what was lost.
Because here’s the truth: We don’t compare ourselves because we’re stupid, or broken, or shallow. We compare because we learned—somewhere along the way—that in order to be loved, we had to be better. Be quieter. Be smarter. Be more useful. Be less needy.
And what if that’s the very place grief is trying to reach?
In this episode, we explore:
How comparison is a natural outcome of unmet childhood needs for safety and belonging
The brilliance of our early coping strategies (like perfectionism, people-pleasing, staying small)
A framework that helps us say: everything I’ve thought or done made perfect sense with what I knew and what I had
Why naming our losses opens the door to healing them
How grief grows our capacity to love and be loved as we are—not as who we perform to be
And yes, we touch on capitalism, poverty, education systems, and how this all connects to collective grief—and our collective healing.
Whether or not you listen, here are a few prompts to help you hold what surfaced:
Where do I compare myself the most? What am I afraid would happen if I didn’t?
What did I learn about love growing up? What part of me thought “I have to earn it”?
What might change if I told myself: You are already enough. You’re already loved. You’re already home.
Listen now to “Comparison, Compassion, and the Loss of Belonging” [Insert episode link]
And don’t forget— We’ll be launching a Let Them book club soon, walking through Mel Robbins’ work through the lens of grief. You don’t have to perform. You don’t have to pretend. You just get to show up as you are, with your whole self—and that is enough.
Because grief heals. Because you matter. Because we belong to each other.
In this week’s episode of Grief Heals, we explore Chapter 5 of Mel Robbins’ book Let Them, which invites us to let them think bad thoughts about you.
And in true Grief Heals fashion, we’re holding that invitation through the lens of grief—not grief as death, but as love bringing nutrients to the soul, the kind that fosters new life, deep self-acceptance, and brave belonging.
Because let’s be real: So many of us were never taught that our loudness, our softness, our mess, our silence, our brilliance—were okay.
We were shaped, shamed, scolded, or celebrated only when we conformed.
And what got lost in all that shaping? Us.
So we talk about that in this episode:
The grief of being judged for who you are
The strategies you developed to belong (people-pleasing, perfectionism, shrinking, rebelling—not bad, just brilliant adaptations)
And the reclamation of your wholeness, not through force but through love
You don’t have to listen to receive something nourishing from this. Here are a few reflection prompts and tools you can use right now:
Reflection Prompts
Whether or not you press play, these are yours to hold.
When was a time you were judged for something beautifully unique about you?
What got lost in the aftermath? What strategy did you develop to stay safe?
What part of you are you still trying to manage or hide to avoid rejection?
Could that part be grieving not being celebrated?
What would it mean to let them judge you—and still love yourself?
What does that kind of freedom feel like in your body?
Practice: Letting Grief Nourish What Was Lost
Close your eyes.
Place a hand on your heart or belly.
Breathe in the phrase: We breathe the same air.
Breathe out: We belong to each other.
Let grief come like water, like wind, like the love you didn’t get then—but are giving to yourself now.
Want to listen?
This episode is full of tender stories, real-time revelations, and an honest look at how grief can meet us right where we are—even in our shame, our mistakes, our need to control.
Even in a too-loud voice or a scraped-up pair of jeans.
This week’s Grief Heals episode is a deep breath, a full exhale, and a tender look at what happens when our inner eight-year-old is still running the show in a very grown-up life.
I’m talking about Chapter 6 of Mel Robbins’ book Let Them, where she explores “grown-ups who throw tantrums”—and of course, I couldn't help but look at it all through the lens of collective grief.
Because here’s the thing: Most of us were never taught that our big emotions are welcome. We weren’t held when we were heartbroken. We were told to “toughen up,” “move on,” or “be good.”
And now?Now we’re walking around in adult bodies with young, un-met, un-witnessed parts of us still aching to be seen.
So in this episode, I share stories from my own life—some tender, some raw—of what it’s looked like to bump up against those unmet parts in myself, in others, and in the systems we live and work inside.
It’s been humbling. It’s been hard. And it’s been holy.
Even if you don’t listen right now (or ever), I want you to know this:
Every time you shut down, avoid conflict, blow up, people please, or retreat into silence… it’s not a moral failing. It’s an emotional pattern born from unmet grief.
And those patterns? They can be witnessed. Loved. Rewritten. Not overnight—but with time, care, and grief met with compassion.
This episode isn’t just about tantrums. It’s about what happens when we start to honor the sacred responsibility of tending to our losses.
Because yes, grief is love.
And love heals—it really does.
Oh—and something new is coming:
I’ll be starting a Let Them Book Club soon, walking through Mel Robbins’ book with you through a grief-heals lens—no pressure to read or be perfect. Just a chance to slow down together, reflect, and notice.
So if you’re curious, if you’re hurting, if you’ve ever found yourself wondering, why am I like this?—this episode is a loving place to begin.
Courageous,
We are living in a time where fear is being wielded to pull us apart—feeding the illusion that we are separate, that it’s us vs. them. But here’s the truth: We belong to each other. And love—real, courageous, unshakable love—asks us to remember that.
I know what it’s like to pull away when I feel misunderstood, to stay quiet when I long to speak, to convince myself that holding back is safer than being fully seen. Self-protection happens automatically—it’s wired into me. Maybe you feel it too.
I’m also discovering that every moment of self-protection is an opportunity. An invitation to pause, notice, and ask: What am I afraid of? What fear is feeding the illusion of separateness?
This episode is for those of us who refuse to be hardened by fear. Who are willing to meet our own discomfort, hold our own grief, and stay open anyway. Because when we stop fighting against fear and instead welcome it with curiosity, we find something powerful: the strength to stand together.
Fear tells me that safety means separation, that if I don’t risk vulnerability, I won’t get hurt. But I know now—that’s how I stay hurting. Real safety comes not from shutting down, but from learning to stand open-hearted in the discomfort, to receive love in new ways, to let myself be known.
I’m inviting you—those committed to love, to connection, to the messy, beautiful work of being fully human—to listen. This is about moving beyond self-protection, anger, and division. It’s about choosing to love fiercely, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.
Join me. Let’s remind each other what’s possible.
P.S. If you’re longing for a space to feel connected amidst the divide, join our free Healing Circle. The next one is tomorrow, Tuesday March 18 at 5:30 PM PST—a space to experience belonging, to grieve, to breathe, and to remember that we are not alone. You are welcome here. .
xoxo,
Lisa Michelle
We’re living in a world that’s working overtime to convince us we’re separate. That we’re alone. That we should be afraid of each other.
But I refuse to buy into that lie. And I know you do, too.
That’s why this week’s episode of Grief Heals is about something radical: remembering that we belong to each other.
Grief has been my greatest teacher in this. It has stripped away the illusion of individualism and shown me—without a doubt—that what happens to one of us, happens to all of us. We breathe the same air. Drink the same water. Walk the same earth. We are each other.
In this episode I share stories of how grief has woken me up—not just to my own heart, but to my neighbors, to the suffering of marginalized communities, to the undeniable truth that our healing is bound together.
And if you’re reading this, I know you feel it, too.
This isn’t just a podcast episode. It’s an invitation. To resist the division being spoon-fed to us. To stay open when the world tells us to shut down. To love fiercely, even when it’s uncomfortable.
If you don’t have time to listen, here’s something to sit with:
Where has grief cracked me open to love more?
How can I stand with and for people beyond my immediate world?
Where is fear trying to close my heart, and how can I welcome my fear and keep my heart open?
And if you do listen, share it. Talk about it. Let’s be the ones who refuse to turn away.
We are the love revolution. And we need each other now more than ever.
P.S. If you’re longing for a space to feel connected amidst the divide, join our free Healing Circle. The next one is Tuesday March 18 at 5:30 PM PST—a space to experience belonging, to grieve, to breathe, and to remember that we are not alone. You are welcome here. .
There’s something powerful in remembering that we all breathe the same air. And that’s really what this latest episode of Grief Heals is about—the love we find when we step into our grief, especially collective grief.
Right now, there is so much division. So many lines drawn between “us” and “them.” And in that divide, grief is quietly doing its work—showing us what truly matters, revealing that we belong to each other.
In this episode, I share a story about a road trip, a broken-down truck, and a simple act of kindness that reminded me: Our people aren’t just family and friends. Our people are— people. Period. No matter where they’re from. No matter how different their lives may seem. We belong to each other.
To come together we must invest in loss. The loss of certainty and being “right” is painful, but only by investing in loss do we touch our genuine longing— longing for belonging, connection and love. Because grief isn’t just sorrow—it’s love in another form. And when we let ourselves invest in loss, we actually make room for healing, for growth, for deeper relationships.
For those of you working in social services, caregiving, or any role that serves others—this conversation is especially for you. The way we approach grief, the way we recognize our shared humanity, it changes how we show up for the people we serve. And, maybe more importantly, how we show up for ourselves.
So if you’ve been feeling the weight of division, the uncertainty of these times, or the personal aches of loss, this episode is an invitation—to breathe, to grieve, and to remember that love is still here, waiting to be seen.
Give it a listen, and if it resonates, share it with someone who might need it too
Reflecting on the death of his grandson, my friend shared this on facebook:
Two years have passed since Jan 4th, and yet the shadow of that redwood, mighty and indifferent, still looms over my heart as if it fell but yesterday. Aeon—his name an echo of eternity, his spirit a flicker of divine light—was taken by the same earth that cradled him. A boy so full of wonder and possibility, his laughter seemed to carry the whispers of angels, and his eyes bore a brightness that spoke of a world yet to be explored. How cruelly the tree, a symbol of life and strength, became the instrument of loss. Yet, even in this, there is something profoundly human—a mystery of suffering, a question directed at the heavens. Aeon’s absence leaves a silence that reverberates louder than words, a reminder that love endures beyond the grave, bearing witness to the unbearable and transforming it into something eternal.
Dan’s loss reverberates with the universal human experience of suffering. And speaks to my heart about the nature of true comfort.
What a contrast. The comfort he shares is so different than the notion we’ve absorbed, that comfort is solely about ease and convenience.
No! Dan’s words echo that true comfort is found in love’s endurance through all of life’s challenges and reaches beyond the grave.
At the heart of this episode is the unwavering belief in the transformative power of love, weaving through history and the struggles of marginalized voices who have fought for equity and justice, at great personal cost.
Love is the only force powerful enough to make a duet of wonder and grief ~ words from the poem, Adrift by Mark Nepo.
Perhaps isolation is an epidemic because we've been conditioned to think we are less than we are – that we and others don’t have the capacity to be with all that life brings.
Love, loss, pain, and joy are all part of the human experience. But we’ve absorbed a lie that we and others can’t handle the complexity of life. This leads to hiding emotions, which keeps us segregated from ourselves and others.
Isolation.
I found out Chip died at midnight. By 7:00 am, 9 women were at my door ready to support me however possible.
That afternoon, I could hear them huddled together, whispering. I yelled out, “Nothing about me without me!”.
They were trying to help, but didn’t recognize that talking without me sent the message that I wasn’t able to be with my own life and denied me the community I needed for this desperate time.
How have you experienced this in your own life - times when you or others have tried to "protect" someone from the full range of emotions?
What could it look like to embrace the complexity of life's joys and sorrows together?
What intimacy might this create?
Because…
“The way you see any individual in your mind is the best they can ever be in your presence.” - John Overdurf.
In this episode, I share more stories and metaphors of how I’ve seen and experienced John’s words.
Join the conversation on death, loss and grief as the Grief Heals substack: http://griefheals.substack.com
