Moving through the waves of grief.
Grief is not only about what is lost to us. It can also be a way back into connection, not necessarily with what is no longer here, but with ourselves, with our capacity to feel, and in time, with love itself.
Grief does not move in a straight line. It comes in waves. It may feel overwhelming, like being pulled under, with no sense of when we will resurface.
And then, gradually, something begins to change. Not that the grief disappears, but that we find ourselves able to move with it differently, to stay with it even when it is intense, and to know, somewhere within us, that we will come back up for air.
As we begin to stay present with what we are feeling, something else can begin to emerge. A softening around the heart, a greater openness, and a sense of being able to breathe again.
Grief does not only bring sadness. It can also bring anger. Anger at what has gone, anger at how we have been hurt, at what was not given or what was taken away, at the experience of being left, or left to carry something alone. And within this, resentment can take hold.
Resentment can be a way of protecting ourselves, a way of holding on to what has happened so that we do not have to risk being hurt in the same way again. It can bring a sense of control, or safety, in the aftermath of pain.
The anger we may feel within resentment is often not only toward the other, but also toward parts of ourselves. Parts that did not speak. Parts that did not leave. Parts that did not protect us in the way we wish they had. Where there is difficulty forgiving another, it can be just as difficult to fully forgive ourselves. And so, resentment can hold us in a kind of tension. Wanting to move forward, and yet holding on to what has happened. Wanting things to be different, and yet not feeling able to let go.
In order for something to shift, there often needs to be space to feel what is there. The hurt. The anger. The impact of what has happened. Not pushed aside, but acknowledged. And from here, something else may begin to emerge. Not all at once, but gradually.
Is it possible to trust again?
And this is not only about trusting another, but also about trusting ourselves. Trusting that we can listen more closely, speak more clearly, and respond differently if needed. Within this, forgiveness may begin to take shape. Not as something we arrive at and remain in, but as something that unfolds over time.
It may come in moments. A slight shift. A different way of seeing. A softening in how we hold what has happened. And then it may move again. The hurt returning, the anger rising, the sense of what was lost or not given coming back into view. And so, forgiveness is not a single act, but something we come in and out of. Something that takes time.
And as this begins to take place, something within us starts to loosen. Not because what has happened no longer matters, but because we are no longer holding it in the same way. Not all at once, but gradually, something begins to soften, and with it, a sense of possibility begins to emerge.
By Serena Maren