When we are experiencing deep grief, our relationship with ourselves would ideally be gentle, kind, accepting. Yet that is often not the case as we bombard ourselves with expectations, overload, regrets, guilt and even shame. The presence of a negative inner companion can be our reality during times of trauma and sorrow.
(818) 788-HOPE (4673)
Grief Support Groups Serving West Los Angeles, Encino and Agoura Hills
Grief Support Groups Serving West Los Angeles, Encino and Agoura Hills
This month we are beginning HOPE’s 2026 fundraising campaign. We sent a letter out to the HOPE community asking for angels to consider sending a contribution today to help give us the strength and the ability to build a better community.
Loss can shake you to the core, disrupting your sense of safety, security and identity. Every fiber in your body becomes sensitized. You may feel raw, your nerve-endings exposed, like you’ve lost a layer of protective skin. The relentless eddy of feelings, fears and anxieties create confusion and may leave you exhausted. You crave rest but find it hard to find peace. It is no wonder that even small, ordinary tasks can seem insurmountable or that invitations to be with others, too daunting. These experiences in early grief leave you feeling vulnerable, fragile, needing lots of care. Unfortunately, the person who would normally soothe and comfort you during such a distressing time is not there to help you through. That’s what makes spouse or partner loss such a uniquely painful and difficult journey.
Dear friends,
A teacher once said, “If you think you can wake up without breaking open, you’re mistaken.”
Growth is not polite.
Truth is not always gentle.
And transformation often hurts.
But it hurts like birth hurts.
Like muscles growing hurt.
Like a heart opening wider than it ever has before.
We don’t heal alone.
Even when we think we must.
There is so much wisdom found in the process of grieving… even if we don’t know or feel it at the time. In grieving, we grow, like it or not. You change when you attend to your grief… because just about everything changes when your spouse dies.
Often, we talk about how difficult it is to grieve the loss of a spouse. There are so many layers and so many new things to learn and do. It can be exhausting and overwhelming. Sometimes it’s hard to face the reality and just keep walking. Sleep sometimes seems like a comforting solitude and escape… but it is so temporary because your grief is there when you wake up. It waits.
With age comes an increased awareness of what used to be. Mental pictures from the distant past grow sharper, more in focus almost than more recent events. The images are clear; the voices strong and resonant; and the tastes and smells are as keen as ever. I’ve come to understand that what has gone by is not really gone at all; it is, all of it, still here within me, within reach. I have only to give over my mind, allowing a slight opening for the images to enter and there they are – rich and precious and alive.
Often, poets capture the feelings following the death of our loved one in ways that transcend words. Westley Nash does exactly that in this short poem, read by the author, Left Behind.
Spring is finally here! Winter felt like forever this year. Now, we’re watching the miracle of Nature as life slowly comes back to our landscapes that were changed by the harshness of Winter and natural disasters. The charred California mountains are now filled with beautiful colors of blue lupine, orange poppies and the golden mustard plant. Do you feel it? The colorful…
“I was taught to bury with the dead the presence of my grief…
But when a shattered heart is desperate, the only respite is to let somebody in.”
— From “Home” by Sara Bareilles
A HOPE Connection grief group is certainly the place where grief is shared. Our loved ones are honored over and over as members say, Tell me your story. I’ll tell you mine.
It is the sacred place of sharing grief and fond memories and letting someone else in.
Viktor Frankl, psychologist, author and Holocaust survivor, coined the term “tragic optimism” as the ability to sustain hopefulness despite the unavoidable trials and tribulations of being human. This is not just a happy face that you put on. It’s a way of seeing purpose in grief, a way of embracing the highs and lows of full humanity.
Imagine you owned a beautiful home where you found peace and contentment living there for many years. Suddenly, one day without warning or provocation, you found yourself with an uninvited and unwanted inhabitant invading the premises.
When someone we love dies, the brain becomes a house where grief takes over and sets up residence. It can feel as though our well-used furniture has been rearranged in the dark. We reach for a light switch, but it is no longer there, and we trip over the enormous emptiness left behind. This isn’t just sadness; it is a biological crisis where the mind struggles to map out a world that no longer contains a vital piece of its landscape.