Grief Digest Articles

I have a strong character. I’m not sure about my Higher Power these days, but I do have a Light inside of me that urges me on to healing, even during those days when my eyelids are too swollen to lift them up to Heaven.I vacillate between great days and very low days, but mostly, I function well, and there will always be a vein of sorrow that runs through everything I do. Maybe there was a time when I thought it would hurt less if my life came to an end, but I never thought about taking my own l …

Flailing about for answers after my son’s sudden death a few years ago, I leaned on some of those crutches that become familiar to many dads.I dove back into work, changing careers to become a high school teacher. I put extra elbow grease into buffing the topsides of our boat, venting, churning, then finally ready to unwind a bit on the water for another season. I tried to anticipate the needs of our two younger children, noting when they were sad or vacant.Taking long solo runs, I called on Mik …

Adults are often bewildered by the reaction of teens who have lost a family member or close friend. Most adults experience grief as a long journey where they undergo numerous emotional, psychological and physical changes. Through grief work and the passage of time healing takes place. However, with teenagers grief is not so predictable. They experience periods of grief that are interrupted with activity, play and at times they seem totally unaffected by the loss; like it never happened. Most are …

At times it seems like the negative thoughts and sadness are taking a toll on me and I start to wonder if my mind and heart will ever find peace. Suddenly, I finally find an unknown source of inner calm, I relax into it and just let myself “be.” Be in that moment of time where nothing can touch me, where I can forget for just that moment…
I appreciate these rare moments of peace in my shattered mind and body. I treat them as a time of meditation, stillness within myself. A replenishing I suppose …

She’s a woman in her mid-sixties and still dresses exclusively in bright neon colors. She cries before she talks. She knows she has come here to discuss her husband’s death. As she wipes her tears I notice her tattoos, so many—so loud. Then I wonder who has more, her or me? Now she sniffs a little and explains she is all cried out. We both know she is lying.I ask her about her life with her husband and she tells story after story that makes me realize we are so different and yet the same. Drug a …