Grief in Disguise: A Reflection from the Threshold

There’s a quote that caught my breath the first time I read it:

“I sat with my anger long enough until she told me her real name was grief.”

— C.S. Lewis

I felt that—not just in theory, but deep in my body.

In 2013, I lost my father. I held it together the best I could, pushing forward, carrying the weight in silence. But when my mother passed in 2021, something inside me broke open. All the grief I hadn’t made space for came flooding in—drenched in anxiety, depression, and questions I didn’t have answers for. I wasn’t just mourning my parents; I was mourning the version of myself that didn’t know what it meant to truly feel.

During that time, I was met with what felt like a storm of personal struggles. But in the middle of the wreckage, God placed people in my path who offered something I didn’t know I needed—healing. The kind that holds space without fixing. That listens without rushing. That simply sits with you in the dark.

And it was in that space, slowly, I began to see my calling with clarity: to become the person I needed when I was drowning in grief. To walk with others at the end of life, not with answers, but with presence. To hold space for the unspoken, the sacred, and the honest mess of being human.

Now, as a death doula, I understand more than ever that emotions rarely show up in tidy packages. Grief isn’t always soft or tear-streaked. Sometimes, it roars. Sometimes, it comes wearing the mask of anger. And if we sit with it long enough, it tells the truth.

Naming our grief doesn’t make it easier—but it makes it real. And when grief is met with compassion instead of fear, something sacred happens. Healing begins—not like a lightning strike, but like sunlight breaking through morning fog. Gently. Steadily. Lovingly.

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” — Psalm 147:3

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me.” — Psalm 23:4

It’s only by the power of God’s grace that I’ve come this far. His healing hand touched my brokenness and began restoring me in ways I didn’t expect. And I’m so deeply grateful for the people He placed in my life—those who encouraged me, prayed for me, and stayed by my side without judgment. Their love, care, and kindness helped carry me through.

Now I carry that same love into the lives of others. What I received, I now give. Because no one should walk through the valley alone—and sometimes, just being present is the most holy thing we can do.

If you or someone you love is facing the end-of-life journey and longing for peace, presence, and care, I’m here. You are not alone.

With love,

Sally 🌹

“Embracing the Journey”