Grief: The Power of Presence

Each week, I witness so many forms of grief.

It gets to a point where I often pace around and shed a few tears after sessions, to release the awe, devastation, and gratitude I feel for the people I just journeyed with.

I find that it never gets easier to learn the weight of what others carry, but it is effortless to be present.

Early on in my training as a grief coach, I learned that the most important thing I could do is to trust someone’s profound expression of loss. That the most generous way to be of service to another’s heart is to encourage mourning, and to relate to it as essential and necessary for the health of our souls. It has become my favorite misconception to clear up- that grief needs anything more than loving eyes and space.

Would you be shocked to know that fundamentally, grief is most nourished by the power of another’s presence?

When I look back at my life, I realize now I was always in training for this, far sooner than a degree, programs, and credentials.

My earliest memory was with my dad at 4 years old. His sweet sister had just passed away from an aggressive cancer, and I found him crying hours after her funeral service. Peering through my parents’ bedroom door, I was curious and confused by his tears. “Dad, why are you crying?” I asked. To which he gently looked at me and said, “it’s because I am sad.”

Speechless, I took that in, and stared back at him with awe, as he continued to let tears fall down his cheeks, holding me close.

Of all the gifts my dad has given me, that one continues to be a favorite. In not hiding his grief, he helped to ignite my first apprenticeship with sorrow. From there, I would continue down a path of meeting him and others in their raw state. Of expanding in the safety and intimacy of simply being with another, no matter what they were going through.

Grief, no matter what anyone tells you, is not a negative emotion. It is love prevailing. It is the most ancient, sacred expression of our range as humans. We need to nurture our grief, because in doing so, we rebirth into even grander love. We revitalize into the next evolution of trusting ourselves.

I notice a common arc for those I support: it is always brutal at first. Tears, wailing, nausea, denial, shock, confusion, restlessness, internal ache beyond comprehension. Then over time, they ground into a steady trust of the madness. Grief comes and overtakes, then like the tide, it recedes. And the repetition and ceremony of welcoming it, makes them more intentional, softer, honest, brave, and expressive. They awaken to their values, and they craft a life worth living and dying for.

My wish for this world is to pause a little longer before shutting down in grief. To not judge it, numb it, or fix it. But to allow it in, to let the tide find its rhythm within you. To let your longing break you down, so it can break you open.

Imagine a world with broken-open hearts. Hearts that recognize themselves in another.

I’ll keep dreaming.