It Begins with a Walk
Two years ago, I had an idea to create a Grief Walk for National Grief Awareness Day (annually on August 30). I was inspired by a Story Walk at Window Seat Media’s annual meeting, as well as what I knew about Wild Grief (I hadn’t yet been on one of their walks).
Only one person showed up to that first Grief Walk, but it was a magical and meaningful experience. Four teenagers walking through the park joined us for the breathing exercise (“Is it box-breathing?” one of them said). We learned they were grieving a friend who had recently died. They went on their way after sharing a brief moment grieving together with us.
I continued to think about that meaningful walk through the fall and winter. I still think about that walk. At that point, I hadn’t had much luck in getting people to sign up for one-on-one coaching, and I was feeling discouraged about ever being able to help anyone. I was networking non-stop; nearly everyone commented that what I was doing was “so needed.” Many people told me about their own loss, but no one seemed interested in following up for deeper conversations about grief.
After much soul searching, I realized that what I truly love is designing programs to guide and educate. I took that realization, along with many years’ experience creating events, added my desire to help bereaved people, and decided to offer a whole series of grief walks. The Schmitz Preserve Park walks were popular from the start, but once Maari from Inner Alchemy suggested I put them on Eventbrite to help keep track of attendees, the grief walks doubled in size! I also added beach grief walks at Constellation Park, which is lovely. As my cousin Jeanne wrote to me once, “Go to the ocean for any answer you need–it’s there in the waves.”
Constellation Park, where the April 13, 2025 Beach Grief Walk is held.
Building on the satisfaction of pulling off successful, thoughtful walks in nature, sharing with other grievers, and breaking down the stigma of grieving, I approached Daisha, who I’d only met a couple of times, about collaborating. Together, we designed the half-day Heart Tending Workshop, which combines Daisha’s training in yoga and breathwork with my approach to creatively grieving and sharing. We’ve now hosted it twice, with another coming up in May. We’ve also become good friends.
Meanwhile, I continued to network. I wanted to be recognized as someone who works with grievers. I especially wanted to be known as someone who brought grief out into the public eye. I had expanded my advertising beyond the astonishingly effective flyers-on-poles method to posting in the West Seattle Blog’s calendar and on the West Seattle Chamber of Commerce’s event calendar (and sometimes in their newsletter). These remain my goals and my go-to marketing strategies.
When I introduced myself at a networking event, people would ask if I was the person who did the grief walks and when the next one was (my efforts worked!). People often followed up by asking whether I held grief groups, so last fall I started facilitating in-person grief groups. Since I’d frequently been asked for them, I assumed they would immediately fill up. I scheduled three sessions a week at different locations throughout West Seattle. It turned out it wasn’t a miraculous “if you build it, they will come” situation. So I condensed them into one Monday Night Grief Group–for now. I’m still working on getting the recipe right, but each Monday is a beautiful and meaningful experience for those who come. (Side bar: if you’re a bereaved adult, please consider joining us.)
Another thing people ask about is whether I worked with a certain type of grief not related to death, such as divorce, the climate crisis, loss of self, and even post-partum depression. The Monday night grief group is only for adults grieving the death of a loved one, but the walks and workshops are open to anyone grieving anything. I now offer an (Any Grief) Grief Circle on the last Sunday of each month. We’ve had two meaningful sessions so far. The next one is April 27th. I run them somewhat differently than the Monday Night Grief Group, but they share some key components, such as uninterrupted time for each griever to share, a reading, and having grief witnessed without judgment.
I’m outlining my journey as a Grief Educator and Coach because I want to talk about how it’s changed and where I’m at now. (I haven’t yet mentioned that I also work with senior living communities and memory care facilities. They have become such a special part of what I offer that they deserve a future dedicated post.) When I first started Listening to Grief, I focused on one-on-one coaching, which wasn’t really going anywhere. Once I added community programs and grief groups, people started showing up, both for the free walks and for paid services like grief circles and coaching. I went from not knowing whether I could pull off having my own business to spending every single day working on making it sustainable (I’m still working on that!). I was laid off from my “regular” job last October, which opened the door for me to put my energy into Listening to Grief and into listening to what I want from this venture.
Being able to focus on Listening to Grief means I can offer Monday Night Grief Groups, (Any Grief) Grief Circles, Heart Tending Grief and Yoga workshops, one-on-one coaching, continue to network, and seek out collaborations and new opportunities. There is at least one new workshop in the dreaming stage and a couple of other single-day events in the planning stages.
I used to scramble before each event or group session because I didn’t have time to focus on them while also working a full-time job. I would work in fits and starts, often late at night when I’d catch a second wind. Honestly, that’s a habit that’s been hard to break. It’s 9:00pm as I write this!
What I recently noticed, though, was that I no longer need to scramble to make sure each grief event, support group, or coaching session runs smoothly. I established a framework that I’m proud of and is proving successful. Don’t get me wrong: there is still a lot to do for each offer. I carefully review everything; I tweak components to be more relevant for each group; I prep materials for grief & movement workshops; I update emails and readings for grief circles and support groups; and of course I promote everything, but I am not creating anything wholly from scratch. This gives me time to collaborate with more people, which I absolutely adore.
This summer I’ll be leading a grief walk at my alma mater’s Alumni Weekend, in the very woods where I mourned break ups, contemplated the future, philosophized about life, and was attuned to the trees, birds, creek, and critters. Those woods were a salve for any ache and a companion to any joy. I’m excited to take what I’ve created in my current home to a place where my memories are most enduring, and to share them with others who also love those woods and who also grieve.
I’m working on another potential workshop in the Cleveland area for the weekend before Alumni Weekend, and I’m dreaming up a workshop with another West Seattle griever whose grief is quite different from mine. Daisha suggested I create a grief circle specifically for grieving the state of the nation or loss of democracy, so I’m thinking about it. If you have an idea for something that you’d like me to offer, let me know.
Having these frameworks also frees me up to write more (hence, the blog). I also have time to focus on the behind-the-scenes work, like SEO and setting up meetings with potential partners. My favorite thing (outside of collaboration) that I get to do more of, is learning. I’m taking a fascinating course based on the book Can Anyone Tell Me? by Meghan Riordan-Jarvis, as well as reading the book. I’m hoping to read Emergent Strategy by adrienne maree brown next, if I don’t get sidetracked by another grief-related book. I am also looking into learning more about Somatic Experiencing and how I can apply that to my grief work.
I hope to see more people at my grief events, peer support groups, and one-on-one coaching sessions. More people means I can continue to do this work that is not work. I think it’s a vocation to help people learn to carry their grief, and to demonstrate that it’s okay–even normal and healthy–to grieve.
