There is so much loss and grief out there right now. I started trying to recap some of the latest, but then got overwhelmed and scrapped that idea. This isn’t a news site and you probably know it all anyway. So, unlike those recipe blogs that make you scroll as though your life depends on it just to hit that chicken soup recipe, I’ll get right to the point.

I wanted to share this blessing I wrote for other grievers… you can define ‘griever’ for yourself. It could be recent loss or a wound from 30 years ago.

for other grievers

I feel your pain. Your sorrow, your longing, your loss.

You have pain that can’t be fixed or moved on from or gotten over.

There is no one way forward.

We need to allow space for grief. Reserve an extra seat for it.

Close the curtain around it if you need to not look at it for a bit.

You know where to find it – as if you could possibly forget.

Pull the bed covers up over yourself if you need to.

Go outside if you can, (bring tissues).

It’s all allowed.

I want to warn you that other people will say the wrong thing. This is a given. Sometimes the people you most need support from will say the worst things to you. You’ll wonder how they could possibly say that in this moment. They mean well, yes. They have good intentions, sure. But this doesn’t help in the moment when you feel terrible. Not at all. So in that moment, the moment you’re somehow made to feel worse when all you need is to be heard, I honour your pain.

I wish for you not to feel judged in your grief. I understand how well-meaning “words of comfort” can sting so brutally and feel like harsh judgement. Try to breathe through the many opinions and advices and voices whispering undertones of “you’re doing it wrong”.

I wish for you to speak your truth without fear of shame.

Feel your love, Feel your pain, Feel it all.

I wish for you also to have laughter and joy and pleasure – if not now, eventually. Even if only fleeting. It may be tainted, but you can still experience it. Your favourite treat may not taste as good now as it did before, but I still want for you to have it, even just a bite.

Unfortunately, you’ll need to face down horrible decisions and questions and actions. You’ll need to do what no one wants to do. Your nightmare is real, and you can’t wake from it.

This is big. This is as bad as you think. Maybe even worse.

We are the stuff of other people’s worst nightmares, and it sucks.

Whatever you feel, however you are, however you aren’t. It’s all right.

You are enough in your painful shredded heap.

You are enough.

I hope you continue to write your grief, speak your truth, shout your pain.

It’s important.

I’m here.

And I’m sorry.

I wrote a version of this as part of a “Write your Grief” course I took recently. I highly recommend the course for the writing prompts as well as solace I found within the non-judgemental community of fellow grievers.