Summer is one of those seasons that can add layers of disappointment and complexity to a grief process. For some, the inability to match, or even care about, the supposed levity and lightness of this season brings a nagging reminder of how different one’s reality is. With this often comes a new depth of isolation.

June usually promises the warmth and ease of early summer, but this year, it brought us a surprising return to winter, complete with unexpected snow showers and sudden shifts. It has been a stark, visceral reminder of life's unpredictable cycles: the constant burning down and building back up. Just as we watch the abrupt shifts in the weather or the baby scrub jays suddenly leaving their nest, we experience these same unpredictable cycles within our own inner landscapes.

April brings a different energy. Where March was the quiet, barren in-between, spring is now here—and it doesn’t ask permission. Living things wake up whether we’re ready or not: the trees, the flowers, and often, our grief. This month, we are exploring the intersection of Awakenings, Surrender, and finding our own way.

March brings the quiet magic of the in-between. It’s that strange, uneasy stretch where the trees are still bare, yet the balsam root sunflowers are just beginning to bud. While the landscape looks barren to the eye, it is actually a powerful container teeming with new life. This month, we're exploring the concept of liminal spaces in our grief.

February 20th came, and there was a moment...maybe even three that day...when the heaviness of my grief shifted. It seemed to fade, and I couldn't quite place it. Lately, that heaviness had been showing up right below my heart, then shifting into my stomach, rotating between those two residences. It had become a familiar character.

When I joined Grounded Grief I was excited to be part of a team looking to expand its support for youth and families in the Portland area. During a flurry of enthusiastic brainstorming, our Founder & Practice Lead, Katherine Hatch, and I landed on what seemed like a simple idea: a monthly blog dedicated to childhood bereavement.

The New Year is a time when many of us are fed that clarity is supposed to arrive, a new leaf is to be turned, and that our grief may feel different or better. Yet for most who are grieving, New Year's can feel quite the opposite. ​