Spring Newsletter: Nourishing Our Grief Journeys

Spring in the Pacific NW is rolling out the green carpet in anticipation of Summer. Fields. Meadows. Weedy roadside patches. Ball parks. Trees in full leaf. Every green named on the color palette is displayed and then some. A robust aliveness as I walk the neighborhood with Joey the Pug.

As I mentioned in my last post, Spring seemed to arrive early this year; our Winter was mild. Camellia were in full bloom in February. Then in quick succession it was Magnolia, Cherry, Dogwood, Lilac, Rhododendron and now Hydrangea are coming on strong. Old fashioned Roses are fragrancing the air. It is easy to forget that Spring’s grandeur would not be possible without Decay and Death (yes, I went there). Each daily shift in landscape is a reflection of a blossom or leaf falling back into soil to make way for future harvest. For growth. Sure, some seasons it is more pronounced, but the cycle of Birth, Death, Rebirth is continual.

Singing Grief & Loss Into Our Voices

As summer wanes the songs of birds have also waned. I am no longer roused from sleep by the Dark-eyed Juncos’ romancing lilt an hour before the sun rises. Spring desire stirred their songs to life, along with Robins, Chickadees, Nuthatches, and so many more back when Rain still canvased Pacific Northwest landscape. Now the Junco’s nesting season is over, other wee birds stop by for sips from the birdbaths (Juncos understandably did not want to share space while they were parenting and kept other birds at bay.) I welcome the return of the full calliope.

Anne Richardson

March 3, 2023

Ambiguous Loss, Connection, Covid-19, dementia, disenfranchised grief, Gratitude, Grief and Loss, Grief Literacy, Hope, Kindness, Labyrinth, My Mentor Grief, Newsletter, spiriutal companionship, Winter, professional presentation

Winter Newsletter: Footfalls On The Journey—Shifting Landscapes Shift Perspectives

Anne Richardson

March 3, 2023

Ambiguous Loss, Connection, Covid-19, dementia, disenfranchised grief, Gratitude, Grief and Loss, Grief Literacy, Hope, Kindness, Labyrinth, My Mentor Grief, Newsletter, spiriutal companionship, Winter, professional presentation

Ah February in the Pacific NW. Our mild winter faked us out with a few warm spring-like days earlier in the month. This is typical. A few bulbs poke up. Trees start budding and a few have even bloomed some years, though at least this year the cherries didn’t. Wise those cherries. We are giddy with visions of lighter jackets and warmer days.

Then cold swept in with an unexpectedly large gathering of snow in the lowlands. Caught the weather-folk by surprise as well as the evening commuters on a recent Wednesday. Portland recorded 10-12” in some neighborhoods. My higher elevation abode had about 10”. It turned into an icy mess once the snow thawed a bit and refroze. All the headlines read “snowapocalypse”and folks in the midwest rolled their eyes I’m sure. Now this is typical…a “false” spring followed by more “wintery mixes,” but we are a hopeful bunch in the Pacific NW (or forgetful) and think each year will be different.

Anne Richardson

February 12, 2023

Ambiguous Loss, Community, Connection, Gratitude, Grief, Grief and Loss, Hope, Intangible Loss, My Mentor Grief, Poetry, Seasons, spiriutal companionship, disenfranchised grief

Coastal Language of Ambiguous Loss & Disenfranchised Grief

Anne Richardson

February 12, 2023

Ambiguous Loss, Community, Connection, Gratitude, Grief, Grief and Loss, Hope, Intangible Loss, My Mentor Grief, Poetry, Seasons, spiriutal companionship, disenfranchised grief

I can sense the relief in my interactions with others these days. It is FINALLY light after 5:30pm! Yes! Folks are smiling again. Hope in the form of longer days in the Northern Hemisphere has arrived. We passed the midpoint of winter February 1st and “suddenly” first light crests the horizon well before 7am and daylight lingers longer. Last Tuesday at 6pm when I set out on my Mazama Street Ramble, there was still a vague hint of light in the west as stars started to bud. A clear night blossoming after a day of steady rain.

Nature takes the seasonal shifts in stride. If I look back through my camera roll, there are photos of daffodil tips poking through the soil in February from years past. Already the hellebore are blooming and if I draw a dogwood twig close to my eyes I can see the beginnings of budding. From a distance the deciduous trees appear to still be slumbering, but beneath their exterior they are awakening. It all feels predictable…or at least variations on a theme. And humans, for the most part, we like predictable.

Singing Grief & Loss Into Our Voices

Coastal Language of Ambiguous Loss & Disenfranchised Grief

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