Good Mourning Grief

A blog about my adventures as a grief warrior

Month: January 2026

Removing Spiritual Roadblocks

January 25, 2026 /

Geoff’s mother shared a story her daughter-in-law told her about a dream that a colleague of hers had. I apologize if, in translation, I miss details, but I remember it like this:

She was in a large white room with a bench in it and on the bench sat Geoff. He asked her if she could give his wife a message. “Please tell her that I am trying to reach her, but she keeps blocking me.” Then the door opened and in walked another man, who she did not recognize, and he sat down beside Geoff. The two of them got up and left. Her colleague said it was such a weird dream. It felt real. The wife showed a picture of Zane to her and asked, “was this the other man?” Yes! Yes, it was him.

When I heard this story, there were tears. Bittersweet, understanding tears. Proof that our boys are somewhere else, together and yet connected to this realm with a desire to reach us.

The question is often asked “has your loved one visited you?” The answer is varied. Some did in the beginning but not now. Some only once. Some are still waiting. How can we remove the roadblocks to connect with the spiritual realm?

We know that we are to quiet our minds. Visits from our loved ones are brief moments. If our mind is racing with thoughts, a visit might get lost in between all the other topics competing in one’s head. Resting, taking mindful walks help remove the blocks.

Connection requires our loved one to lower their vibration, and we must raise our vibration so that we meet somewhere in the middle. Negative emotions bring our energy down and although it can’t be helped to feel anger or resentment and especially sadness, we must try to elevate feelings of joy, purpose and gratitude. This helps raise our vibration.

Meditative, nighttime rituals are essential to removing blocks. All meditations carry similar components; relax, take deep breaths, empty the mind by focusing the attention on a specific scene, speak your desire. My favorite is imagining a forest with a stone path leading up a small hill. At the top of the hill is a cluster of trees. I stand in front and ask, “which of you would like to speak to me tonight?” Then I wait. It almost always works. It is not Zane every time, but whoever steps forward, there is uplifting conversation.

Dream journalling is a must. When you begin to write what dreams you do remember, your brain becomes trained to remember better. My dream journals contain many stories of Zane that I would have forgotten if I had not written it down right after.  Spiritual connections require practice and patience. What will begin an occasional writing of a dream remembered, will become a regular happening.

The bonus of this practice brings our loved ones across the realm, in dreams but also in moments when awake.  When their voice ‘pops’ into your head or you feel a soft touch when no one is there. Don’t be quick to dismiss it to your imagination. Answer back and ask for more.  Your acknowledgement removes the spiritual blocks and opens the door to stronger connections.

A Letter from Grief

January 18, 2026 /

A recent exercise in dealing with grief suggested that we write grief a letter. The purpose is to face your grief, giving it a personality and telling it what you think about it.  As I completed this assignment, I wondered, what if grief wrote us a letter? What would it want us to know? What would it ask?  My letter to grief came back with a reply.

Hello,

I am here. The Universal plan brought me here and I know you don’t like me. I know I cause you angst. I know I am the reason you cry at night, scream in the morning and have so many thoughts of deep doubt. I know how tired you are from my presence. I know how hard you wish I would leave.

But I’m not leaving. I’m here to stay. If you find yourself in a dark spot, don’t blame me. Stop and be quiet, take a deep breath and a moment to ponder…

Are your thoughts, your actions aligned with truth? The real raw truth that only your soul knows. Not the truth that your broken heart is telling you or the muddled truth of your brain. Have you listened to the whispers of your soul?

Are your thoughts, your actions aligned with kindness. Are you treating yourself with the tenderness to which a shattered life deserves? Concentrating on nourishing your soul with solitude and reflection rather than distractions and avoidance?

Are you filling your days with small moments of things that once brought you joy or are you replacing everything with something new, something shiny, something that cannot relate to the you before I arrived.

These are the ponderings I ask of you. The answers can become actions to ease the intensity of my being. I am grief. I am the other side of love. Don’t mistake me for anything else.

Don’t mistake me for anger. The anger to which arrives through despair or impatience. Anger will make you scream of the injustices thrown upon you, insinuating you have been betrayed. It can not speak of the whole truth for anger has only one side.

Don’t mistake me for fear. The fear to which arrives through insecurity or lack of faith. Fear will cast shadows over the chance of joy, holding you back from opening the door to opportunity. It can not see the future, for fear only knows of the past.

I am grief. I am the other side of the love you hold. I am the tallyman of your heart; your broken heart that I will help reshape. I am not the enemy.  I am merely the bittersweet continuation of love after its original form has left.

                                                                                                                                            ~Grief

Why Grief Isn’t a Journey (with John Onwuchekwa)

January 11, 2026 /

The topic of podcasts came up, and I wondered why I didn’t listen to them. I thought I might try to shake it up this year and listen to podcasts as well as read. My first podcast came to me on a web search and as they say, “first time is a charm”. It was a good one.

The podcast was from Grief Out Loud where John Onwuchekwa, a Pastor, author, team builder and storyteller communicated his thoughts of why grief is not a journey.

In 2015, his brother Sam passed suddenly bringing grief as a new subject into his forum of topics he likes to share.  John starts the interview about the initial feelings loss brings and how that stays with us.  How 11 years later, he still finds himself asking, “Is he really gone?  In the early days, you forget. Hearing it throws your body into exhaustion, tearing your world apart… then, in the morning there are a couple of seconds before you remember.”  The intensity of this goes away but it always will feel surreal.

There are parts of our self that die with the loss of someone close. We aren’t sure what those parts are, and we never know if you are going to get those things back. He speaks of what changed in him with his brother’s death.  He shares he is no longer proficient at returning messages.  Before Sam’s death, the opinion that he was responsible, goal orientated and focused on the outcome was important to him. Grief changed him to be more intrinsic and less worried about such things, to be more focused on the bigger picture.

He is much less an optimist. “Life is a sort of lottery with no guarantees.” He revaluated family and his role in his relationships and how he could be better. All aspects of grief that each of us face. What was intriguing is John’s disagreement of the idea grief is an individual linear journey that we travel. His alternative is appealing.

John believes that grief is a language we become fluent in.  Through language one can support their loneliness. “People are not afraid of grief.  They are afraid to be alone in their grief.” Language is about finding the right words when there are none.

John speaks about the types of languages of grief. For example, grief is body language. We cry. We scream. And forever, our body remembers the day we lost our loved one, the physical symbols related to their death, and when we do, our bodies may flinch. This is our body talking to us.  Grief is also a written language. When you write, you must remember your story. It forces you to linger in the memories. “Grief is a language and if we don’t learn it, we can’t heal.”

The ideal that grief is a language to which we are trying to become proficient in gives a scholastic slant to dealing with grief, rather than the antidote ‘pack your suitcase, you are going on a trip’. I think I might combine the two. Grief has launched me on an eternal journey to which I will come across many strange lands and meet many wonderful people and together we will learn to speak a language only understood by those who carry loss.  

To hear this podcast, click: Why Grief Isn’t A Journey (And What It Is Instead) – John Onwuchekwa

Gentle Reminders for Mother Hen

January 4, 2026 /

Over the holidays, I reviewed my role as a contributing and positive person in the lives of those I love. It was suggested that I can be controlling, opinionated and a busy body.  Ouch. Someone else spoke of how I was raised on guilt and thus very good at using that tactic in my parenting. Double ouch. There is no mistake that our clan is suffering, trials and tribulations seem to be our thing. I’d like that to change and wondered how I can help, or do I just make it worse.

When I approached my family with this query, I was appreciative of the honesty of the responses. Yes, I can be opinionated, but it comes from a place of love. Yes, I tend to take charge when I see someone struggling and sometimes this causes questions of whether a person was genuine or if they were acting on ‘momma’s orders.’ Overall, my family has come to accept me and my actions as the mother hen God created. I seem to be the one having an issue with it.

I guess this whole review comes from the many arguments of late and the exasperation I feel with the choices my family are making. I am worried about the outcomes. I’m not sure how I can mind my own business when I am usually the go-to person when things go south. To let go is unknown territory for me because it is new. I used to be very confident in how I expressed care.  Now, I seem to question, overthink and host doubt. I blame grief.

When we lose someone, we subconsciously become more controlling. We could not control when and how death came into our life to blow it up.  But it did. And it left us feeling vulnerable. We begin to put into place actions to protect our fears, to perhaps numb some of the pain. We tighten our opinions. We begin to manage situations, putting conditions on the idea that if we have more control, we will not be hurt again. It doesn’t work. 

As I was exploring how to step back from my urge to be ultimate mother hen, one of my ‘kids’ sent me a text. He told me that my love for him is what sustains him. He doesn’t understand it, but he knows that I am there for him. Unconditionally.  And that has made the difference. My heart burst.

Another family member texted me, “I was the best part of 2025.  Stay positive.” And another unsolicited text, “…You are the one there for me…” And then my daughter reminded me of the trip we had together to Ireland. A bucket list of her and Zane’s to get me there. She hugged me and said, “2025 took us to Ireland and showered us with signs that our tribe lives on. Together.” My heart burst again. I had forgotten how important that trip was.  Truly the highlight of the year.

I believe that personal reflection is always a good practice. It solicits feedback to spark necessary change and supports the ability for growth. It may sting but change usually does. My favorite part is the gentle reminders of what is working, that one’s intentions have been received in the manner to which they were meant. These affirmations can be the foundation of what to build on.

Life is what it is. It will not be constant.  There will always be change. How we move forward, becoming a stronger, more impactful version of our former self is the focus to which we can find balance, joy and connection. As mother hen, I will better choose the issues I peck at as some problems aren’t even mine. And the result might be a few less ruffled feathers.   

© 2026 Good Mourning Grief

Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑