Riding the Waves of Grief: Reflection, Gratitude, and New Beginnings
The ocean waves have always been a metaphor that resonates deeply with me. Their unpredictability—gentle waves, overpowering surges—serve as both teachers and mirrors, reflecting the journey of change, culture, and now, grief. Grief ebbs and flows; it is both unpredictable and deeply profound. Some days, it feels like being swallowed by the ocean: waves pounding relentlessly, knocking me off my feet, pulling me under until I lose sight of the surface—consumed by sorrow, loneliness, and an aching sadness that refuses to relent. On other days, the waves are gentler, softly lapping at my feet with memories.
Over the years, I’ve experienced—as we all have—many types of grief: the passing of wonderful colleagues, clients, friends, and family members; the tortured loss of making those excruciating decisions on behalf of beloved pets who gave unconditional love and companionship, only to leave far too soon; the loss of relationships, jobs, and dreams that once felt like anchors. Now, the ground-shaking loss of my mom has left a hole in my heart like none other.
For over three decades, she was my constant. We shared a bond that grew through mutual support, challenges, and love. I cared for her through illness, provided stability, and witnessed her incredible resilience in the face of adversity. Even in her hardest moments, she chose hope. I remember her telling me, after surviving a grueling illness decades ago, that she was better because of the experience. She believed it had deepened her faith, strengthened her resilience, and shaped her into someone more whole. That perspective has stayed with me, especially now. Her diagnosis came swiftly, stealing her in a matter of weeks. I hold deep sadness alongside profound gratitude—for the time we had together and for the end of her suffering. I am grateful for the loved ones, colleagues, friends, and even strangers who came around me to hold, support, and lift me without judgment or expectations.
Each form of grief has carved its own space in my heart, leaving holes that, over time, have been softened and partially filled by love, gratitude, and memory. Grief is a teacher, albeit a harsh one. It has knocked me down, turned me around, and left me gasping for air. Yet, it has also reminded me that growth and development are everywhere—in all experiences and waking moments of the day. Grief has brought clarity and growth. It reminds me of the power of love—how deeply we can feel, how profoundly we can connect, and how those connections shape who we are. It has taught me to honor the waves of emotion as they come, to let them carry me rather than fight them. It has deepened my empathy, sharpened my emotional intelligence, and enriched my ability to show up fully for others—whether in life or in my work as a leader, coach, and practitioner of learning and organizational development.
As we enter a new year, reflection feels natural—this time of year invites us to consider possibilities and beginnings that can happen at any moment; they don’t follow a calendar. They arise when we give ourselves the grace to ride the waves, to feel the sorrow and gratitude, to reflect on what is working and not working, and to embrace the transformative power of loss, love, joy, and hope. Grief isn’t an ending; it’s a passage. It shapes us, allowing us to emerge as newer, fuller versions of ourselves.
While I wouldn’t have chosen this experience, I am grateful for the journey. So now, I ride the waves of grief, love, reflection, and learning, holding the memory of my mom close. As the new year begins, I lean into hope, resilience, and the promise of life still brimming with possibility—finding moments of joy amidst the ache. Though the waves may batter, they also hold me and carry me forward. I trust their motion, honor the journey, and grant myself the grace to feel it all. The ocean, like you and me, holds the boundless potential for healing, growth, transformation, and profound love.
May your 2025 be filled with growth, reflection, gratitude, and possibility.
