GRIEF

I sent similar words to a friend recently describing it, Grief.  Creating a little poetic statement expressing a form of validation, perhaps?

An understanding?

Or maybe an awareness of having been through it myself?

Death was not a new concept for me. I had grown up having experienced loss. My great-grand-mother, a close family friends’ child, as a teen—witnessing its violence wreak havoc—inflicting all areas of their life. I had lost beautiful family pets, members of my family to old age, illnesses and a sweet beautiful best friend, who never got a chance to bore life herself. It was her dream to become a mother.

Trauma of any form doesn’t only harm the body—it sends shockwaves through every facet of life. It tears down our barriers, our sense of safety. It breaks trust, and disrupts our ability to love freely or live fully. It spreads like ripples in water, touching relationships, mental health, communities, even the way we see ourselves and the world. It creates a kind of chaos that lingers long after the moment has passed, distorting joy, distorting peace. That’s how ultimately, grief, augments our reality. It invades everything it touches.

I’ve always pondered what lies behind our time here on earth—questioning, wandering, conceptualizing, trying to understand. I felt the weight of loss in those it touched, those still here. I saw it in their bodies, etched into their expressions, shaping the way they moved through the world.

I used to fear death—the unknown. But over time, through experience, learning, and the deep, meaningful conversations I’ve shared with others, I’ve come to see it as part of the natural cycle of life. I’m no longer afraid. What I fear now is the impact of an unexpected departure—the ones I’d leave behind.

I had been approaching the heavenly birthday of my mother-in-law, and had been feeling her presence surrounding our family again. The theme of loss was popping up all around me, as it seems to do this time of year. Was it because I was thinking about it I was seeing it? Or was it because the universe was aligning it with what I needed to see and feel? I’m not quite sure, but it was, nonetheless, there.

I walked into class on Saturday morning and spoke to a friend about a dream. She told me about how her father came to her and how he had been on a healing journey in the afterlife. This sat with me all practice. I reflected on this finding, such closure in this beautiful idea. I came home feeling light. Her classes feel like a sacred reset—a return to myself. I leave feeling not just refreshed, but renewed in spirit, as if something deep within me has been realigned and gently healed. The boys were outside with their dad, and I spoke to him about this idea. I told him about my reflections. So many people spend their entire lifetime suffering here on earth never having an opportunity to go on their healing journey. What do you think of this idea where our spirits can go on one in the afterlife? I ask him. Lately, he shares such profound and powerful philosophical insights. I just love it. This next one stays with me. His explanation about energy is scientifically based. Our bodies remain here on earth, since our energies cannot be destroyed in this universe. Our electrical being moves on. We are no longer in our body nor our brain. What once was the electrical signals bouncing around inside our skull, an anchor to this physical planet, has left. And so, we feel this electrical signal moves on with our spirit since there is nothing holding us down. "Maybe our body and brain is a bridge to this physical world to allow us to experience." His words, when we further spoke about this. I am in awe of his deep intuitive reflection and how connected. We now have the words to express such an uknown phenomenon in this world. I find this idea deeply moving and resonant. Peace in this notion, provides me with a sense of calm understanding, lifting the uncertainty. Instead, it gives comfort and an explanation for my brain to hold onto—a clearer picture. It simply makes sense to me.

Loss comes at us from all angles. It is a tumultuous relationship of sorts. Stormy and violent until we can find some acceptance in it. And sometimes, we see it coming long before it is here. The anticipation of which is long, grueling, and painful—but also a blessing, for it gives us the gift of time to cherish together. What we do with it, is entirely up to us. How we choose to spend it, and where we direct our focus, lies in the hands of each individual.

I'll end this one with a short quote from my hubs, my scientific philosopher, "Reality itself is more amazing than what we can imagine."

With Love,

Melanie Watts