I recently started diving deeper into the practice of writing poetry by joining a poetry meetup group, then forming my own women’s poetry group. A friend joined a challenge to write a poem a day for a month, based on a word prompt in the theme of hope. Every time she shared one of those prompts with me, my immediate reaction was anything but hope. So I decided to write about it, and this poem, “Lifeline,” was born. I read it to my Heartlight Institute support group, and they strongly resonated with it and suggested I publish it for our fellow grievers. Thank you, HeartLight, for giving me a venue to do just that. Writing about my grief always gives me a sense of relief, and I want to share it with others so they know they’re not the only ones struggling.

A couple weeks ago, as I was exercising at my local rec center, I was listening to music on my ear pods when a song by Josh Groban, entitled “You Raise Me Up (to more than I can be),” started playing. This was one of Marilyn’s favorite artists and songs and it was the last song we played at her memorial service. I hadn’t heard it much since she died, probably intentionally because of the memories, so I didn’t know whether to fast forward or skip the song entirely. I decided that I needed and wanted to hear the song after all this time.

My wife Mary and I celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary on September 12, 2020. On the morning of November 6, 2020 I went for my daily walk. When I returned from my walk, I found Mary lying dead on the bathroom floor. I was devastated and at a complete loss of what to do. Not only was she my wife but also my business partner. So I lost my wife, partner and also our livelihood…

The pain of loss to suicide is unlike any other grief. All loss is painful, and suicide adds layers that survivors must navigate. With the help of mental health professionals, fellow grievers, and a close network of friends, I have started my journey of grief recovery. Yes, this journey is about me. Not my late husband, but me.

A little “Q&A” from HeartLight Center about navigating grief during the holiday season. Take good and gentle care of yourself during the holidays.

Coping is a verb meaning “to deal with or attempt to overcome problems and difficulties,” and is often used with “learning to cope.” This is a word that I have become very familiar with over the last year, and is an action that I have become used to.

I want to share with you about my beloved, and how it was that she gave me an important gift – permission to make tough end of life decisions; to ultimately let her go.

Today I want to talk about getting through the first year after the death of a loved one, in particular at times of holidays and anniversaries. My wife Marilyn died on July 23, 2022, so I have just been through my first year without her. While I am suffering the pain and loss of a spouse, the loss of anyone, be it a parent, child, sibling, or friend impacts the first year in a way that is unimaginable and very difficult to live through. I don’t mean to imply that the second or third or fifth years are easy, but all I can relate to at this time is the first year. And I want to emphasize that I am not giving advice, only relating what has helped me this past year. We all have our own way of dealing with the tragedy of losing someone we love.

We scattered Robert’s cremated remains this past weekend in his favorite spot in Vail, along the river walk that he loved. A family friend of ours, who is also a minister, said to us as we gathered together, “It’s not for Robert that we grieve but for ourselves. We grieve so deeply because we loved so deeply”. I thought a lot about my own experience with losing Robert. This is what I now know, almost six months since he died: Grief is permission.

Next to my husband Dan, my dad was my second-best friend. When told that dad had six months to a year to live, the news tore my soul. I silently suffered anticipatory grief. Even though I was trained as an end-of-life doula a year prior, I was not prepared to practice on dad everything that I had learned. I went to my hometown on Valentine’s Day to care for dad while on hospice. Dad died from prostate cancer in April of 2020. I thought I would never laugh again. Losing dad at the beginning of a devastating pandemic did not help. The loneliness and isolation from family and friends left me numb.

Dear Fellow Human, May is “Mental Health Awareness Month”. In sharing from personal experience, I recall the first time I confided in someone that I was struggling, and I remember the heartbreak I felt when the reaction I received was irritation and the “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” sentiment.

Dear Fellow Griever, I found some voice through haiku as I was processing some of the depths of my grief. The cadence of 5-7-5 worked for me. I wanted to share in case haiku may be useful to you, too.

March is Social Work Appreciation Month, and it is the perfect time to thank social workers for all they do. I want to offer a sincere thanks to all of my fellow Social Workers.

It can be hard to thank someone for doing so much, and difficult to put into words the gratitude felt for the many things social workers do. As a social worker, I know firsthand how crucial and important social workers are in our world, and how a little recognition can go a long way.

I thought that I was prepared for my mom to die…she had fallen and broken her hip, had a stroke after the surgery to repair the fracture, went to rehab and worked her way back to her assisted living facility but was never the same. Her health declined steadily and then she just became too sick to go on. I thought I was ready for her to die.

Do you feel mad about your grief? I’ve felt so mad. Mad that I’m in this space. That I’m navigating a “new normal” that I didn’t ask for. Angry that my person is gone, my world crumbled. I don’t always feel safe, I feel exposed and raw.

I hate the way they died, I hate how I found out, I hate the lack of goodbye in my story.

I feel lonely. Like no one can actually understand the enormity of my grief.

My name is John and I wanted to pass along some thoughts that I have had regarding starting a new year with grief. I have read a number of books on grief and several grief programs. All of these have been helpful in dealing with the grief I am experiencing. And I plan on becoming part of more face-to-face groups dealing with the emotions that surround the loss of a loved one. And, as you know, these emotions are many and varied, from anger to depression to sadness to disbelief to grief, etc.,