Something in the air changes. You feel it, even though you can’t prove it. There is just this sense that they are near. Invisible, but there.
What do you do in a moment like that?
I have worked with hundreds of people learning to process their grief through writing, and I can’t remember anyone who hasn’t experienced this. We all feel a little funny about it, because we question whether we simply want it so badly that we imagine it into being.
Some things will remain a m
black ink butterfly quickly flits across the page its beautiful air When someone we love dies, all we are left with are their ethereal imprints. From deep feelings of connection to them, to memories we shared, to the scent of their clothes, they live on in intangible ways. Both within us and in the world around us. Like the butterfly that flaps its wings and causes a hurricane half way around the world, the unseen world has a powerful effect on us. We become more attuned to i
I remember when my mom was dying, some of the most healing moments for me happened at the end of her hallway in the hospital. I wanted to give others a chance to visit with her, but I also went there to take breaks from the intensity of having to say goodbye. Nurses often stopped to chat with me there, and I’ll always be grateful for the compassion and wisdom they showed. Now that I do my own form of healing work in a hospital, I have a special radar for the end of the hallwa
Synchroncities are such an important part of the healing process when we’re grieving the loss of a loved one. When we can no longer see the person we’ve lost, our senses become heightened to another level of awareness and we perceive a whole different dimension of life. Last night, in the final session of a 4-week workshop in which participants made art to express various aspects of their journey through grief, a synchronous moment came in the form of this sunset. Just prior