“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning. I keep on swallowing…” – C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed When your loved one dies, you are forced through a doorway and the door to the life you once knew…
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Grief Support Groups Serving West Los Angeles, Encino and Agoura Hills
Grief Support Groups Serving West Los Angeles, Encino and Agoura Hills
Coming to my front door
Heaviness with each step
Fumbling for my key
Turning the latch
Unable to shake loose the day
Walking inside
He is there
Waiting
Enfolding me in his arms
His muscles firm against
My weakness
His cheek a pillow for my tears
My body leaning in
Swaths of warmth
Running down my spine
Tension loosening
Soothed by his strength
Skin to skin
Heart to soul
His touch
Melting my stress
I am home
When death takes our beloved, grief turns every moment into a challenge. Our pain can be unbearable. There is no quick fix to lift our pain. Part of our grief work is to get our inside thoughts and feelings expressed, acknowledged, mourned. Naming and claiming all we have lost can help us get through the days ahead.
One of our deepest losses that often goes unacknowledged is missing physical contact from our loved one — that soul touch that comes with a deep relationship. This is not about meeting sexual needs but about the needs of the heart. We don’t “get over” this loss but we can go on and even thrive. Understanding our touch needs helps us understand our wild feelings and increases our self-compassion.
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.
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…