Sitting With Your Memories

Last month, our community call took an unexpected turn that felt deeply guided. Although grief and loss were not part of our original plan, that is where the circle led us. Together, we found ourselves holding space for one another’s stories, memories, and emotions.

In this month’s Teachings Tuesday, we offer reflections from that conversation on the connection between grief and love, and the ways we carry both as part of our healing journey.

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During our November community call, something beautiful and unexpected happened. Even though grief and loss were not part of our original plan, that is where our conversation naturally went. It was as if the circle needed that space, and our hearts guided us there. Many people were carrying their own forms of grief, each in different stages and shapes, and it felt right to pause and hold that together.

For me personally, grief and loss are not unfamiliar. Since losing my mom and my mother-in-law, I have come to understand grief as something that moves with us, not something we leave behind. I count myself as one of the lucky ones who grew up with an incredible mother and was later gifted with another through marriage. Both of them taught me so much about love, care, and the strength that comes from community and kindness.

Now, through my work with Culturally Committed, I carry forward the teachings I’ve received from so many amazing people in my life. Some are still walking this earth, and others have made their journey to the spirit side. Their words and examples remind me that grief and love are deeply connected; they are part of the same heartbeat.

When we look at grief through a Western lens, it can often feel like something to hide or control. There is a belief that emotions make us weak, that we should not cry or show our pain. Many of our Elders were taught this the hard way, through residential and day schools where showing emotion was punished. They learned to protect themselves by holding everything in, and in doing so, some passed on that same teaching to their children, not out of cruelty, but survival.

I was fortunate to be raised by cycle breakers. My mom, who was a day school survivor, would always remind me that it is okay to cry. She said those tears are medicine. If I hold them in, they can cause more harm than good. So I learned that crying does not mean I am weak; it means I am healing. Even now, I sometimes hold back my tears, not because I am ashamed, but because I want to make sure they do not bring pain to others around me. That balance has become a strength I have developed over time.

When I lost my mom, someone shared a teaching that has stayed with me ever since: all the tears we shed for our loved ones are made of unspoken love. They are the words we did not get to say, the moments we did not get to share, and the hugs that never came. Each tear is love finding its way out.

Another teaching that guides me is that grief is like carrying a boulder. When you first pick it up, it is heavy and awkward, and you can hardly hold on. Over time, you grow stronger. The weight does not change, but you change. Your spirit learns how to carry it. Still, there are moments when the boulder becomes too heavy again and slips from your grasp, and you fall apart for a while. That, too, is part of the journey.

Grieving is not a straight path. It is a cycle, one that teaches us to be patient and gentle with ourselves. As we move into this time of remembrance, let us hold space for all those we have lost. Let us remember the ones who walked before us and the ones who fought for us to be here today. Let us remember those who are still fighting battles, seen and unseen, within their hearts and minds.

And let us remember that love never leaves us. It changes form, but it stays with us, guiding our steps, teaching us to carry our boulders with grace, and reminding us that every tear is a story of love that continues. Take a moment this week to sit quietly with your memories. Whether through prayer, song, or silence, allow yourself to feel whatever comes up. Remember that your tears are not a sign of weakness; they are your body’s way of honoring the love that still lives within you.

Wholwholet'za | George Harris Jr.

Since that conversation, I’ve been thinking about how grief doesn’t really leave us. It just finds quieter places to sit. Sometimes it shows up in a song, or in a smell that takes me right back to someone I miss. Some days it feels heavy, and other days it feels more like gratitude.

What really stayed with me from that call was how we showed up for each other. No one tried to fix anything or rush the moment. We just held space, the way circle teaches us to. There’s something really powerful about that — knowing that we can lean on each other, share what we’re carrying, and not have to hold it all alone.

I’m learning that grief and love move together. When we make space for one, we make space for the other too. And in that, there’s so much healing.

🧡 Kim