Griephia

Griephia  (grḕf-ḕ-yah)

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Griephia is a rough wilderness occupied by incomers called grievers.  It shares borders with sadness, loneliness and, on occasion, hopelessness.  Its climate is known for abundant and often unexpected precipitation, its landscapes filled with many irregular peaks and valleys.  

Griephia’s history dates back to the beginning of time and its population is worldwide, though its culture remains somewhat mysterious and is often misunderstood by outsiders.  Exact population statistics are hard to determine as some of its occupants prefer seclusion. Others eventually return to their original homeland and then revisit Griephia around holidays, birthdays, and anniversaries.

The language consists of no words.  The main form of communication includes hugs and other heartfelt gestures.

There is no hierarchy or governing body.  Occupants are unaffected by age, ethnicity, occupation, education, gender, or religious beliefs. 

Griephia’s healthcare system is outdated mainly due to old misunderstandings and beliefs, though the recent growth in social media shows potential for improving cultural awareness and understanding. 

The performing arts, literature, poetry, and philosophy are abundant, and often used for medicinal purposes, with music and journaling offering the most comfort. 

Museums, libraries, and galleries are non-existent, as most collections of mementos and keepsakes remaining private.

The national symbol is the butterfly.

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See also The Wailing Tent, Angel Tears, Grief Diaries, and Grief the Unspoken.

External links include National Grief Awareness Day, Good Grief Worldwide, Compassionate Friends, National Alliance for Grieving Children, Open to Hope, The Grief Toolbox, The Afterloss, among others.

Grief. Let's talk about it.

When Life Hands You Lemons....

Hi friends.  This past year has been as remarkable as it has been painful, and I have come to learn that one thing is 100% true....life is never dull.  

Nearly one year ago I felt compelled to start a blog about grief.  Oh yes, I tried resisting for a few months but found that to be utterly exhausting.  So I gave in and, true to self, dove in head first resulting in many endeavors that had yet to unfold including international bestselling author, radio producer/host, videographer, and more.  I'm not sharing that to impress you, for there is no soul on earth who would want to walk in my shoes, including me.  But some question my sanity in carving such a public path through grief, so I wish to share why I stand so openly in my truth.

The fact is, when life hands you a bushel of lemons, you can either focus on the bitterness or embrace the fragrance.  Make no mistake, the lemon's pungent bitterness is the first quality that hits us and it takes some time to adjust.  But the lemon's citrusy fragrance and useful flavor will eventually reveal themselves if given enough time.  And this is when we find ourselves at a crossroad....do we stay focused on the single quality of the acidic bitterness or yield to all the possibilities lemons have to offer?

After losing Aly, I didn't comprehend the idea that blessings could result from such a horrible tragedy.  But over time, as I created my new normal, I discovered I possessed a few qualities that had unearthed in the aftermath.  I know what you're thinking....what qualities could a 48 year-old woman possibly uncover at this stage in life besides hot flashes and antacids? 

Well, the first quality is a heart so full of compassion, that it allows me to embrace complete strangers around the world who need a warm hug and dry shoulder to cry on.  The second is the sensitivity to not judge.  Anything. 

Period.  The third is a new sense of courage that comes after you've walked through the darkest depths of hell.  Truth be told, if you survive losing a child, everything else seems like a piece of cake.  Which means yes, I am not afraid to invite Hollywood's A-listers to speak at a national convention.  Really.

So why am I sharing this with you now?  Because of my profound loss, I have grown in tremendous ways I didn’t expect.  Yes, I will always be a lifelong member of the Wailing Tent but maybe, just maybe, by sharing my journey so publicly, I can offer the gift of hope to those still caught in the bitterness of their own lemons. 

And being a light of hope for someone in need helps to heal my own heart like nothing else can.