Last summer, I had the opportunity to visit the West Coast for the first time. As I drove along the highway, I watched out the window, admiring the beaches and the Pacific Ocean. Never before had I seen waves like this - massive pillars of water billowing tall and strong, crashing upon the sand, one after another with immense force.

As I watched the waves, I couldn’t help but think of my work as a grief therapist, and my clients’ stories of their powerful grief journeys. I also couldn’t help but think of my own experiences of loss.

I’ve learned that often, grief can feel just like those waves - immense pillars of emotion crashing on our shore, one after another, leaving us searching for solid ground. Other times grief may feel like the gentle lapping of low tide, gracefully washing over our sand leaving white foam in its wake. The waves may rise and fall in rhythm or surprise us with unpredictable swells. Nevertheless, the death of someone we love can feel like we are suddenly thrust into an ocean of pain and grief, struggling to stay afloat.

Perhaps our first instinct is to fight back, attempting to suppress or change the emotions that accompany these waves of grief. We may feel like we need to “put on a brave face” for our family, or “get back to normal” at work or school. However, the waves of grief are meant to be felt, as they are the reverberations of our love for the person who has died. In grief, I often remind my clients (and myself!) that it’s okay not to be okay. In fact, the waves of emotion are normal and valid, whether they contain anger, sadness, shock, guilt, relief, yearning, or so much more. When thrust into an ocean of grief, it’s important to give ourselves permission to acknowledge the waves and feel our emotions as they rise and fall.

In the ocean of grief, it is equally important to find anchors to hold us safe and secure amid the waves. Anchors may be family members or friends who provide support, a safe place to share our feelings, or a warm hug. Anchors may be meaningful activities that give us purpose and direction as we continue to live each day. Anchors may be the values that guide us and help us define the type of person we want to be today, even amidst the grief. If the waves feel too big to navigate alone, an anchor may be professional support in therapy or a support group with other peers who are experiencing similar journeys.

When storms come and the waves grow tall, grief can feel overwhelming and terrifying. Questions and fears of “what if” and “what could have been” can fill our minds and hearts. We may find ourselves like Peter in Matthew’s Gospel, stepping into the stormy water to join Jesus and finding ourselves overcome with doubt, sinking into the waves. Yet like Peter, we are called to “take courage” and “don’t be afraid” (Matthew 14:27). As the waves of grief surround us, we are invited to trust. Trust that Love is greater than death, and trust that hope can be found in even the darkest of nights. We may never have all the answers in this life, but with trust we are able to weather the storm, nevertheless.

As time passes, the waves of grief do not go away, but they do change. With time, we might notice more moments of calm, and we may become more familiar with the feeling of the water lapping upon our skin. As stated by Jamie Anderson, “Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot.”  If grief is simply “unspent love,” maybe this releases us from the responsibility to tame the ocean. Instead, perhaps we are invited to learn how to ride the waves of grief.