As he sleeps, neural synapses fire, wire, prune, and grow. Wondrous dreamland connections are made.

However, cultivating gratitude for difficult people and experiences doesn’t feel “natural.” It certainly isn’t easy. Nor is it required in the work of holding space. We can still be compassionately and mindfully present to what is, even if “what is” is something that we would never wish to know. It is often terribly difficult to be open to grief

Buddhist “wheel of life.”

We are trained to look honestly at our own spiritual and religious hang-ups or baggage, so as not to project our unprocessed dramas or grief onto those we are called to serve. We are trained to work with the energies of fear.

Yet, pre–Civil War, most Americans died, experienced family-centered postmortem care, and were buried at home.

Institute for the Study of Birth, Breath, and Death

For death is not a disease. It is the twin companion of life. Birth and death are forever linked. Inseparable. Love is what weaves meaning between the two thresholds.

No one is going back to their previous life after losing a loved one. Life is messy, chaotic, and difficult after loss. Grieving is a profound and complicated road, often for the long haul. Yes, there’s support. Yes, there are proven care practices that can be employed. But life for the bereaved has changed, irrevocably. Integrating this change

Holding space is the wise and appropriate response to such hauntings. And to hold space well requires a willingness to accept and integrate our own anger, regret, and sorrow. It obliges us to honestly apologize when our actions cause harm, and to fearlessly own the darkest corners of our life’s stories. In doing so, we gain the capacity to be