Grief doesn’t have office hours.
It shows up late at night,
in grocery store aisles,
or in the middle of an otherwise ordinary Tuesday.
Solace was built as a quiet place where people can talk, reflect, and process loss whenever those moments appear.
Something that comes up often in grief conversations:
People apologize for their grief far more often than they apologize for their anger, stress, or exhaustion.
...as if grief is something they're supposed to be getting right.
It isn't.
@RollingStone@SaraBareilles I love the word 'alchemy' here. Grief often changes when it's witnessed. Not because someone fixes it, but because you no longer have to carry it alone.
The Rolling Stone Interview: Sara Bareilles
@SaraBareilles talks to Rolling Stone about the importance of sharing grief.
"The alchemy of it doesn't change unless you share it with other people."
One of the best interviews I've done wasn't really about AI. It was about art, ritual, and memory.
And the very human instinct to create places where grief can be witnessed.
Thank you, Patricia, for revealing a different way to think about Solace.
https://t.co/yvxVgX4sC9
"Workplaces often acknowledge loss, but they rarely make room for it."
I don't think workplaces need to become therapists. But I do think they need to become more grief-prepared.
Because grief isn't an exception in the workplace. It's an inevitability.
https://t.co/hDNaZGaEND via @usatoday
The wild thing about grief is that most of us are carrying it while living our lives.
Working. Parenting. Studying. Laughing. Making dinner.
Grief doesn't ask us to stop living. It asks us to carry loss at the same time. Some days, that feels impossible.
Grief makes you realize that some people exclusively hold pieces of your history.
When they're gone, it's not just the person you miss.
It's the stories, context, and memories that they helped hold.
The moment you need grief support is often the moment it's hardest to find.
I recently sat down with Krissy from https://t.co/6gfKWxsCaJ to talk about grief, care, and why support needs to exist beyond scheduled appointments and formal structures.
One of my favorite conversations this year.
One thing I didn't expect after losing both parents was realizing there would be stories I'd never know.
Recently, my sister and I wanted to ask them about something from our childhood. But we couldn't.
We realized they were the last people who held those memories with us. That's grief.
@pvyasbuzz I appreciate this acknowledgment that grief can accompany even the transitions we want and work toward.
Pride and grief aren't opposites.
Sometimes becoming the person you've hoped to be means saying goodbye to versions of yourself you loved, too.
@Markmanson I might swap balance for coexistence. In my experience, grief, gratitude, and excitement rarely exist in equal measure.
The scales are constantly shifting. The wisdom is knowing that all of them can belong.
One thing I didn't understand about grief until I experienced it myself was how often it shows up in ordinary moments.
That sweatshirt you pull out of a drawer. The shape of a cloud. Every song on the radio. An untied shoelace.
What's something about grief that surprised you?
I think we often celebrate major life transitions without making much space for what gets left behind.
Becoming a parent.
A new job.
Retirement.
A child leaving home.
Not all change is grief. And even welcome change can carry loss.
This article acknowledges that becoming an empty nester can carry real loss alongside freedom and real possibility.
We don't talk enough about the grief that can accompany life transitions, even the ones we want and work toward, and can coexist with a spectrum of emotions. Thanks for sharing!
Yesterday was Lou Gehrig's Day.
I know personally that ALS is a disease that takes so much from a person, and from the people who love them, long before they're gone.
One of the things grief has taught me is that loss doesn't always begin at death. Sometimes it begins with the first change, and unfolds slowly (or quickly) from there.
Thinking of everyone living with or caring for someone with ALS, or carrying the loss of someone they love today.
@shannonrohrer5 The more I work in grief, the more I think conversations about death are often acts of love for the people who will one day carry the loss.
I think one of the loneliest parts of grief is realizing the world keeps moving at a completely normal pace while your world has fundamentally changed.
This is what disenfranchised grief looks like: grief that is real and life-altering, but not always socially recognized or supported in the same way other losses are.
People don’t just lose a pregnancy. They lose a future, an imagined life, a version of themselves.
Really thoughtful piece from TIME.