The holidays are a special time to spend with our family and loved ones. It is especially magical when you have kids. But it can also be a difficult reminder of how much we miss our loved ones who are no longer with us.
 
When I was in the depths of grief after losing several people I loved, my therapist said a few really smart things to me. One, when I was crying in her office, she said: you are that sad because IT IS that sad.
 
The other was: you have to tend to grief. She suggested I look at pictures or listen to voicemails that would make me sad so that I was processing the grief instead of ignoring it. Her words made me feel seen and gave me permission to really feel the sorrow instead of avoiding or suppressing it.
 
I’m sharing this today because I want to remind you – in case you’ve been feeling sad and missing someone badly – to give your grief a moment too. Even in this supposedly season of joy, it is okay to let sadness in. Grief is unexpressed love. In grief, you can truly find how much love you carry for the person you lost – and isn’t that a beautiful thing? Sad, but very beautiful.
 
If the experience of grief is resonating with you right now, I’ll leave you with these 2 other reccs that you may find odd comfort in. (I know I did)
  1. Anderson Cooper’s podcast, All There Is with Anderson Cooper, where he totally opens with how bad grief can be, the depths of pain he experienced when his mom and brother died, and some beautiful moments within.
  2. Rob Delaney's book, A Heart that Works. He talks about the depths of grief and how awful losing his son is. What I loved best is how his son came alive in his writing.  You could sense the silliness and the love in their house. Such a beautiful, short life.
Here’s to holding space this season to remember the ones we love and lost. Grief is hard – I see you and you're not alone.
 
xx, Leah
 
PS. Sharing one of my fave stories about my nephew, Zach, who I love so much below. If you feel called to share a story about a loved one today, please do so. I'd love to hear it :)
 
A year or so before my nephew Zach died, we had a big family trip to our house in the North Fork. 14 people crashed at a house that normally sleeps 6. We piled onto aerobeds, and we hiked and ate and played and learned how to shuck oysters. Zach was always so good with "the babies" as he called them. (At this time, they were anywhere from 2 to 7 years old)
 
One day, one of the bigger littles was having a hard day. We noticed that he disappeared with Zach for a while. When he came running back to the group, he proudly told us that he had climbed the highest rock on the beach, reserved only for “big kids”. It gave a 7-year old the burst of confidence he needed to turn his whole day around. That was Zach in a nutshell. So empathic and sweet.
 
We call that rock Zach's Rock now and we like to visit it. The kids leave painted rocks for him and my daughter Syd likes to arrange it -- “I made it good”. It is one of the places I can feel his presence most.

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