What inspired the grief voyage:
My real journey with grief and loss began almost 9 years ago. First my mother died, then my father, then my mother-in-law and finally my husband in a little over 6 years, all by the age of 43.
I physically lost all my longest, most securely attached, and deepest relationships. I was quickly initiated into the world of death and grief. This road has been one of immense pain and suffering as well as profound light and beauty. I am beyond grateful for death as it has been my greatest and most illuminating teacher. It has taught me what matters, how to live fully, and the potential within this next chapter for me. Death is a very pedestrian thing and my story is not that unique, but alas it is my story. My reality. My journey. These experiences have shaped me and become woven into the fabric of my life.
I am highly motivated to make our culture less grief illiterate and dispel the myths and taboo subject of death. I want to support others on what is inevitable… the loss of a loved one. And the opportunity to look at their own life and relationship with death. Death is one of life’s greatest mysteries and something that needs to be given more attention and respect. It is as normal as birth, yet not acknowledged, but rather feared.
A poem by Caitlin Rhoades:
ODE TO GRIEF
You’re a bitch. You’re a temptress. You tie me up and put stones around my ankles to only then just push me into the ravaging waters. I am helpless. I gasp for air. I ask for relief. I collapse under your weight. I drown in your cold dark waters. I hate you and fully know that the only way to heal you is to experience you in your totality. I hate you and yet know you’re my healer.
Now and again you let me rise to the surface to take a deep breath, but sometimes it is only a fleeting moment before I am yanked back down to the depths of my pain. When the desert winds come and dry the waters I can still stick my finger in the dirt and feel your presence. You live just under the surface of my skin. You have woven yourself into my DNA. If only I had choice about when you visited and for how long, but I am powerless to your strength.
But listen up bitch I do have choice on how to navigate and float in the wooden boat that I will create out of your destruction. I will rise again like the phoenix. You may have torn down every solid oak that I know, every place I called home but from the debris I will build a vessel stronger than any I have sailed in before. So hop in you crazy bitch that I call grief. Let’s hold hands my old friend and ride these waters together. For it is the only choice I have.
