07/01/2025
It happened again.
Grief found me in the garden 🌻
It often happens this way… in the stillness between moments, when the birdsong fills the air and my hands finally stop their constant doing. Grief doesn’t announce itself with fanfare. It arrives on quiet feet, catching up to me when I finally slow down enough to feel.
One moment I was laughing, enjoying the evening light across the flowers. The next, tears were streaming down my face, my heart remembering what my busy mind had temporarily set aside.
We’re not taught to make space for these moments. Our culture whispers that grief should follow a timeline, that stillness is unproductive, that feeling deeply is somehow a detour from “getting back to normal.”
But what if these garden moments—these unexpected collisions with our deepest feelings—are actually invitations? What if grief needs the sanctuary of stillness to do its essential work?
I’ve learned that grief is like the garden itself: it needs both tending and time, it grows in cycles, and sometimes the most beautiful blooms emerge from the deepest pain.
My journey with grief has taught me that there is profound wisdom in these quiet moments—wisdom that can only find us when we create space for it to arrive.
Is there a small corner of stillness you might create today? A single breath, a moment at a window, a pause between tasks? Your grief doesn’t need grand gestures. It simply needs to be acknowledged, to be given permission to exist alongside everything else you carry.
💫
I have a few spaces available for 1:1 grief, loss, and trauma counselling starting this week (virtually) through 🌸 If you’re feeling called to create a sanctuary for your grief journey, I’d be honored to walk alongside you.
www.chelseadawn.ca
If you don’t see a time that works for you, please reach out directly via the contact form ☀️💛
