There is a moment grief finds you —
not with fanfare, not with warning —
but with a silence so loud, it rattles the very walls of your soul.
Grief isn’t just sadness.
It’s the way the sunlight looks different.
It’s forgetting and remembering at the same time.
It’s standing in front of the coffee pot, wondering how mornings keep daring to happen.
And yet — somehow — we keep breathing.
We find tiny ways to stitch ourselves back into the world.
A whispered prayer.
A walk around the block.
A moment where we allow ourselves to be messy, heartbroken, human.
You are not alone in this.
Grief can convince you that you are—but hear me clearly: You aren’t.
Ove the next few months I will be expanding a project I named “Sacred Space.”
I am creating a place — a gentle gathering —for those who carry grief and are longing for somewhere safe to set it down.
For now, just know this:
Every time you choose to keep moving forward, even when it hurts, you are doing the holy work of healing.
You are seen. You are loved. You belong here.
Stay close.
We are building something beautiful together.
carole l sanek