My Writing

" People do not pass away. They die. And then they stay dead." A wise poet said these words. It's true. The finality of death hits us over and over again. That is why the grief of profound loss moves through us, and we move through the grief. It is a ceaseless dance. Grief is non-linear. Profound loss changes us, rearranging the structure of our very being. We are not the same. We integrate the story of our loss into our core self. And we continue. Some moments of joy and som

People do not pass away. They die. And then they stay dead." A wise poet said these words. It's true. The finality of death hits us over and over again. That is why the grief of profound loss moves through us, and we move through the grief. It is a ceaseless dance. Grief is non-linear. Profound loss changes us, rearranging the structure of our very being. We are not the same. We integrate the story of our loss into our core self. And we continue. Some moments of joy and some

Is there a lump in your oatmeal or your throat? Here is a litmus test someone in my Death Cafe described as a way to discern the most appropriate response to a situation. I have found this so helpful. I invite you to try it. Ask yourself these three questions about your situation: Is there a lump in my oatmeal? Is there a lump in my throat? Is there a lump in my breast? Today when a little situation regarding plans for my daughter's wedding next week (!) seemed like a lump in

What if rain drops had names? When they splashed down to the ground and broke apart, would you grieve them? Would you memorialize each drop by name? There are 8.3 billion people alive on the planet right now. Each of us was born, lived, cared for (however well or badly), and will die. Each of has a name. Let us honor all life. Let us honor all death. We die because we were born. Every raindrop existed, exists and will exist again.