The Familiar Fog of Grief

Dear Reader,

Our family recently spent a few days in northern Minnesota, where Mother Nature is showing off her abundance - fall colors blazing, cold nights settling in, sunny and warm days, and each morning beginning with a steady stream of fog.

One morning, the fog was particularly dense, almost magical. I watched, captivated, as a stranger paddled her kayak through it. The fog was so thick that I imagined she could barely see one stroke ahead of the next.

Grief can feel a lot like that fog. Sometimes, we may look like we know where we’re going, but in reality, much of the early journey after a loss is about moving forward without seeing far ahead - just one paddle after the other. We steer ourselves toward whatever gives us a sense of peace and trust in the journey to unfold, even in its mystery.

As we packed up and started thinking about heading home, I felt the beginnings of another grief cycle. Perplexed by the sudden wave of sadness, I took a walk through the trees and cried deeply. That’s the nature of grief - sudden, sneaky, and unpredictable. One moment I was having the best time, and the next, I was overwhelmed by a sorrow I hadn’t felt in some time.

And then, I remembered: just put one paddle in front of the next. Don’t look too far ahead. Don’t try to answer all the questions that rush in. Simply dwell in the mysteriously beautiful fog.

Sitting with those uncomfortable emotions, I found my heart longing for just one more vacation with my parents. We traveled so many places together, and they would have loved experiencing this magical spot. I also felt a wave of grief for times gone by. During this trip, my son took me out in his canoe, and we paddled for hours. As much as I love our relationship now that he’s grown, there’s still a nostalgic ache for his childhood and all those moments I’d savor more if I could relive them with the perspective I have now. And, as I mentioned earlier, the realization hit me that I’m now an emerging elder in our family. Most of the time, I welcome this phase of life (there’s real freedom in middle age!), but in that moment, I longed for the comfort of being someone’s “kid” again.

We tend to want to escape sorrow, and for good reason—it’s uncomfortable, unpredictable, and doesn’t fit our ideas of what a "good" ending to a family vacation should be. Isn’t it funny, Reader, how our “good vibes only” culture encourages us to always be sunshiney?

The truth is, being human means experiencing it all - the joy, the sorrow, and everything in between. And I know this: the fog always lifts eventually, revealing a clearer path ahead. But until then, I encourage you to dwell in the fog once in a while. Sit with it, feel it, be curious about it. Befriend it, even.

Fall is the season of grief - release, quieting, slowing down, and remembering. There may be moments when you find yourself in a fog, simply putting one paddle in front of the next. And that’s enough.

I hope you’ll consider me a lighthouse in the fog of grief - a beacon to help guide you back to yourself as you navigate the mystery of loss.

All my love,

Reader, I have a favor to ask. If you know anyone who could benefit from a grief circle, I would greatly appreciate you sharing this email with them (or the link to the circles): https://www.befriendinggrief.net/griefcircles

As always, I would love to hear from you. Simply reply to this email or catch me on the socials - I'm starting a YouTube channel, too!

113 Cherry St #92768, Seattle, WA 98104-2205
Unsubscribe · Preferences