What Good Does it Do to Grieve?

What good does it do to grieve?

One woman just happened to be walking through the park, on her way to a yard sale.

“Hi, welcome,” I said as I greeted her.

“What is this about?” she asked.

As we chatted, she shared that she has cancer and is moving to Oregon in a few months. She wants to live in a state that allows Death with Dignity*.

This weekend, our Deathcare Community planned a gathering in a neighborhood park as an invitation to move through grief together - gently, creatively, and without pressure. We set up self-paced stations for:

• Art-making

• Breathwork

• Writing

• Space to be heard and witnessed

On a table covered in a quilt embroidered with butterflies, we had placed a bowl filled with colored rocks. The sign read, “Please take a stone as a gift - or place one as an offering in the park.”

Her hands trembled as she carefully touched each stone in the bowl. Eventually choosing a bright blue one, she said, “My mother died last year. I’m going to put this in the park for her, near a rose bush with pink blooms because she loved those.”

Just before we settled into our seats under a spreading magnolia tree for the breathwork session led by a physical therapist in our community, two sisters arrived. They shared, “Today is the anniversary of our beloved mother’s death, and we came because we wanted to do something special to honor her.”

Eight of us gathered in a circle, feeling the wind ruffle our hair and watching white clouds billow overhead. As we inhaled, the fragrance wafting over from the rose garden seemed to be caressing us.

Later, a woman rode up on her bicycle. The basket on the front was filled with ruby red tomatoes, sweet peaches, and huge golden sunflowers from the nearby farmer’s market. She was excited to see the “Draw your grief” sign, with paper and art materials spread along a picnic table. She sat down and grabbed a marker to add her colorful picture to the mural being created. Some people drew, while others wrote notes to their loved ones, “I wish I had said…” We gently initiated conversations and listened as people shared their stories, fears, and wishes for their own end-of-life care.

Mothers arrived with their babies and spread blankets and toys out for anyone who wanted to play. Two teenagers dropped by and made beaded bracelets decorated with the name Grandpa to remember the man they miss so much, and a white-haired man made one for Max, the faithful furry companion he lost to cancer.

Earlier that morning, we had spotted a small bench in the park, overlooking a lake dotted with ducks, and that became our listening bench for the day. Emotions naturally surfaced as people participated in the activities, and when someone became overwhelmed with feelings, one of the death doulas from our group offered to walk with the person to the listening bench. She sat with the person and held space for them to express their emotions in whatever way they wanted - screaming, talking, weeping.

We humans are wired for connection and empathy. No matter how distracted we get by a system designed to keep us numb, there comes a moment when the grief breaks through the dam. Something in us refuses to die. We feel it all: the grief, the rage, and the unbearable need to do something.

When we truly remember, we stop pretending we are separate. That's how we return to our humanity. To the part of us that still knows how to listen. To the part of us that refuses to look away, and dares to care.

Something tender survives, and that’s when we come back…to life.

In service of truth and love,

Lee

*Death with Dignity is an end-of-life option, governed by state legislation, that allows certain people with terminal illness to voluntarily and legally request and receive a prescription medication from their physician to hasten their death in a peaceful, humane, and dignified manner.

PS - If you haven’t yet seen last week’s essay, Our Deathcare Community: Lessons the dying can teach us about living, I invite you to read it as a companion essay to today’s piece. I share more intimately about my own journey into death work and offer a glimpse into what our organization is envisioning and building within our local communities here in Birmingham.