When will I stop grieving?

It's a question I'm asked often. What I know to be true for myself is that we grow into a bigger container that can hold our grief when we allow ourselves to feel.

Registration is open for my 6-week grief group Letting Grief In. We begin on October 2, 2024.

This is a pay-as-you-can group with three price options: $47, $67, and $97.

If you’d like a spot, make sure you sign up soon.

September 30 is the last day to register.

I’m keeping the group deliberately small so that we keep it intimate and everyone feels safe to share. All the details about what we’ll cover in each of the 6 weeks can be found at the link below.

Grieving A Space

There were many things that were hard about our life in Düsseldorf, Germany. But the one thing I loved was our third-floor apartment.

Our living-room right after the movers emptied the space and I cleaned it

We moved into this rented apartment in November 2020. The pandemic had changed our world. I was, once again, in a new country, friendless and alone.

But this is the space where I learned to be with myself, befriend myself, love my own company. The abundance of natural light that poured into this space, the breathtaking sky-views from my armchair, and the ceaseless birdsong held me, healed me.

As much as I looked forward to heading home to suburban Chicago, the grief I experienced at having to say goodbye to this apartment was real.

This space was more than a temporary home; it was my sanctuary.

The reality of leaving it was really hard on me.

The Grief of Relocation

There are so many things we grieve, big and small.

But somehow we believe that we’re only permitted to grieve the BIG losses: the death of a loved one, a health diagnosis, or being let go from a job.

Shame surrounds and buries the small losses.

Here I was, getting ready to come back home, and grieving a rented apartment that we were leaving. That sounds strange, right? I mean, it wasn’t even a home that belonged to us.

Thank god for the work I’ve done and continue to do with grief. I had perspective. I let myself feel the full extent of this loss.

I’ll never live here again.

I’ll miss all the gorgeous views, my tiny den and workspace, the cute little library shelves my husband built for me.

I’ll never again experience the feeling of unlocking this front door, slipping off my sandals, sinking into my armchair, and staring at a golden evening sky.

The sadness was very present.

The day we had to hand over the keys to our landlord, I told my husband that I’d like a half-hour by myself in the apartment.

I walked through the now-empty space, room by room. I cried. I said a loving goodbye. I expressed so much gratitude for all the good times we’d had there. I called in abundant blessings for the next occupants of the apartment.

This little ritual helped me feel complete. As much as grief was present, so was the gratitude.

Honor your grief

No matter what you’re grieving, honor the feeling. Try not to push it away. Because grief rises from love and attachment. It’s your love that turns into grief when the thing you love is no longer in your life.

Whether it’s a grandchild who can now tie her shoelaces, a home you’re saying goodbye to, a friendship that’s no longer a good fit, a body that’s aging, or a dream that’s crumbling, you have a right to mourn it.

If you need some support, I invite you to consider my 6-week small-group grief healing experience. We begin on October 2nd. Registration closes on September 30th.

Maybe you’re doing fine but you know of someone who could use this support. Would you do a small act of kindness, hit the SHARE button below, and send this newsletter over to them?

Wherever you find yourself as the season transitions, I send you warmth and comfort.

With love and care,

Uma