6 minute read
Winter Solstice: Embracing the Darkness and Light of Grief
By : Melissa Bottorff-Arey
Symbolism and dualities play a massive role in life after loss- in grief. We all hear them - "Grief is like the ocean; it comes on waves ebbing and flowing. Sometimes, the water is calm, and sometimes, it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim."
In a duality like in grief, we can be both sad and happy (not just one or the other). Can mere euphemisms, metaphors, or analogies get me through a hard 'season'? I say yes, they can - or at least make us see things so that we can 'take it in' and then apply it. In my words, it can help simplify difficult concepts just enough so that we can take action in our lives.
So, why does this matter? Well, If you are like me, you may have woken up one morning recently with a heavy sense of dread only to realize the why later -- that it has happened -- we are officially in the dreaded 'holiday season ' [Queue the somber bass musical notes of dread... 'ba ba ba bummm'] Also, like me, you may surmise, well, we are here now; how fast can it be over?
This makes me want to go deeper. I want to explore embracing a metaphor to survive a harsh reality or at least to allow us to locate the tools to do so.
Symbolism is the use of symbols to represent ideas or qualities. We can draw on such images or analogies to help our minds unpack complex thoughts more effectively, freeing up more energy and time for action—aka relief and growth.
A duality is an instance of opposition or contrast between two concepts or aspects of something, and they show up all the time in life after loss. We all experience the long, dark nights of grief, and at some point, we will all experience the promise of brighter days and more light. It's a cyclic ebb and flow. Both predicted and unexpected. Now, we are getting there.
Being more spiritual and less religious makes me think about the Winter Solstice a concept in harmony with more secular beliefs than some think. Solstice traditions pre-date secular beliefs, which are commingled in many ways. For the sake of this article, I want to focus more on something we all have in common despite deity (or not) beliefs: the changing of seasons, the reality of cycles, and how to leverage them to move forward.
The winter solstice is the shortest day of the year (=the longest night) So look at the day your grief began as that shortest day, the promise as the hope that shows up, and the daylight as better, longer, sunnier days ahead.
So, how do we 'do' this season? How do we survive the long, dark nights? How do we thrive in limited sun? How in the effing world do we embrace the dark and the light of the season?
The extended darkness brings about a forced hibernation, mimicking the forced time in the early days of survival when the grief fog is as thick as pea soup and heavy as a lead blanket.
Use the time to reflect, pull into the protection of shadows, and do the work of reflection and quiet transformation. This is the season for rest, introspection, understanding, and accepting the changes that grief has brought into your life. We can use the briefer times of light to practice and hone in preparation for what is coming up. From this winter, as Spring does emerge, we have stored our strength and need renewal.
It does not have to be all doom and gloom, though. Many cultures still mark the winter solstice with fun gatherings. After all, it's okay to be okay, too, I promise. Even in the midst of grief, there are moments of joy to be found. Dance in the sun. Rest under the cover of the moon. Find moments of peace and happiness, and hold onto them. They are a reminder that even in the darkest times, there is still light to be found.
Some tangible things to try from those shadows: Reset food and sleep habits — nourishment and rest are vital to rejuvenation. Journal-it's a proven therapeutic tool that helps get feelings up and out. Start a new tradition - going back to 'before' traditions often doesn't feel right, so use this time to intentionally try out new ones that might fit better. You can even delve into an artistic endeavor or start a ritual to remember your loved ones' lives - stepping away from their moment of death and into the light of their life heals us and contributes to their legacy.
The cycles allow consistency and prepare us for the ever-changing nature of grief, which is both sneaky and predictable. It is dark and light. It is also limiting and riddled with possibility - but we must choose to embrace both the dark and light of grief to transform and grow - only to know, on some level, we will do it all over again, but with (each) subsequent next time, we can become more anticipatory, participatory and practiced. It becomes easier over time. And it's important to note that time alone didn't do this - it merely presented itself - it's what you do with the time that truly matters.
As we move through cycles like seasons and solstices there will be ebbs and flows, but there is always a return and always promise In this solstice season, may you learn to embrace the dark and light of the season and lean into the opportunities for extended rest and glimpses of hope both are a natural part of order and are needed to grow toward the promise of brighter days ahead.
Melissa Bottorff-Arey lost her 21-year-old son Alex to suicide in August 2016 and found herself completely shattered. Now, having picked up her own pieces, she leads other grievers from hope into healing. She does this for moms who have lost a child to suicide by hosting meaningful conversations on her podcasts, providing mindful resources as an author, offering a way to create a forever legacy for their child, and leading weekly online support groups and more.
Learn more about her services by visiting
Follow Melissa on Instagram @theleftoverpieces
