The Tides of Grief

Grief is the word we, as mere mortals, use to contain the vast, untamable sorrow of losing those we love. I’ve spent years dipping my feet in its shallows, sometimes burying my head in the sand, hoping to avoid its full weight. But now, in my forties, the grief tsunami has hit.

Maybe it’s the midpoint of life, when the absence of so many loved ones feels sharper. Maybe it’s simply time—reflection deepening what once felt distant. Whatever the reason, I now understand that grief never truly disappears. The pain changes—it ebbs and flows, rises and falls—but the sense of missing never stops.

If misery loves company, then grief seems to crave community. I still remember reading John Donne’s meditation “No Man Is an Island” in high school, shortly after losing friends in a deadly car crash. That moment planted a seed of understanding in me: loss is universal. It touches everyone, even when it is unspoken. I’m reminded of this truth each time I sit with clients through their pain.

And yet, amid all the heartbreak, there is a strange comfort in shared experience. No matter how isolating grief feels, we are never truly alone. Humanity—every single one of us—has heard or will hear that bell toll. Some, heartbreakingly, more often than others. Within that refrain, we are one. Grief is part of our collective consciousness, and that knowingness anchors me.

No Man is an Island

by John Donne, 1624

No man is an island,

Entire of itself.

Each is a piece of the continent,

A part of the main.

If a clod be washed away by the sea,

Europe is the less,

As well as if a promontory were,

As well as if a manor of thine own

Or of thy friend’s were.

Each man’s death diminishes me,

For I am involved in mankind.

Therefore, send not to know

For whom the bell tolls;

It tolls for thee.

To all who have graced my life with theirs.