How Deep is the Ocean?

Grief can knock you under when you least expect it, in the middle of a normal day, with no warning and no permission asked. A way to talk about loss is not as a wound you “get over,” but as an ocean you learn to swim in. When the waves hit, you are not weak. You are human.

Why does our culture’s timeline pressure make mourning harder, from casual expectations to clinical labels that sound like a countdown? The ocean doesn’t care about deadlines, and neither does love. Share the heart of the ocean metaphor, first named by grief counselor Lois Tonkin: grief doesn’t get smaller, we get bigger. That shift challenges the idea that acceptance is a finish line and replaces it with something truer, a life that slowly grows around what you carry.

You’ll also hear three practical anchors for coping with grief that show up in both research and lived experience: naming what you feel, finding “other swimmers” who can sit with you without fixing, and choosing continuity instead of chasing closure through continuing bonds. Learn to name the undertow that can come with traumatic loss, suicide, ambiguous loss, estrangement, or disenfranchised grief, and why therapy, grief groups, and crisis support can be a lifeguard, not a last resort.

If you’re grieving, fresh or old, you don’t have to feel better on command. Press play, share this with someone who needs gentle language for loss, and subscribe, rate, and review so more people can find grief support when the waves return.

Art, Artifacts, Fabric and Design:  https://www.etsy.com/shop/vasonaArts?ref=seller-platform-mcnav and  https://fineartamerica.com/profiles/candee-lucas and https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/vasonaarts

ELECTRONIC BOOKS:  1000 IMAGES OF JESUS  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0F2SFH4Z6

Music and sound effects today by:   via Pixabay

Transcript

Welcome To Solace

Candee 0:35

Welcome to Solace, Soul + Grief. I'm glad you're here. My name Candee Lucas. I'm a Jesuit trained spiritual director and chaplain. When we started this ministry, one of my goals was to make available a library of inspirational thoughts, supportive notes, scriptures, authors, movies, books, and other media that could assist those who are grieving wherever you are along that path. Remember, you're always welcome in our circle of healing, love, and support.

The Ocean And God’s Vast Love

Candee 1:33

I always wanted to live by the ocean. Ever since I can remember at sixteen when there seemed something beyond the cornfields. It's changed my outlook considerably. And mostly it's changed my relationship with God considerably. Because when I look out my window and see that vast expanse, I can begin to understand the size of God's love, the quality of God's love, the ubiquitousness of God's love.

Grief As An Ocean Metaphor

Candee 2:32

So today I want to use the ocean as a metaphor for grief. Not to fix it, not to explain it away, just to stand with it for a few minutes and look at it honestly. There's a metaphor that has stayed with me, one that a grief counselor named Lois Tonkin first described, and that others have carried forward. Grief is not a wound that heals, it's an ocean. And we learn slowly and imperfectly to swim. Most of us arrive at lost standing on the shore. We can see the water, we know it's coming, and then a wave hits us and we go under. And nothing is the way we thought it should be.

When Waves Hit Without Warning

Candee 3:43

In early grief, the waves are enormous. They come without warning. You can be standing in the grocery store and a song comes on, or you catch a smell, old coffee, a certain soap, and suddenly you find yourself underwater. This is not a weakness. This is what the ocean does. It doesn't ask permission. It doesn't wait for a convenient moment. The waves at first seem relentless. And they don't get smaller right away. You just slowly learn to see them coming.

Timelines, Tides, And Growing Larger

Candee 4:27

We live in a culture that wants grief to be a season. Six weeks, six months. There's even a clinical threshold for quote prolonged grief disorder, close quote, that puts a clock on sorrow. But the ocean doesn't care about our timelines. The ocean simply is, much as God's love is. Much like the tides, grief doesn't shrink. We grow. Here's the most important thing I want to say. The idea at the heart of this ocean metaphor is that grief doesn't get smaller, we get bigger. The old model, the stages of grief, the idea that you move through denial and bargaining and arrive at acceptance as if it were a destination. That model is not quite right and is increasingly being discarded. It suggests grief is a problem to be solved, something to graduate from. The ocean model says something different. The ocean stays, but over time your life grows around it. You build a bigger vessel, you build a larger vessel. There is more of you, more relationships, more meaning, more capacity, and so the same ocean takes up a smaller proportion of who you are, not because you've forgotten, because you've expanded. The water doesn't shrink. You become a bigger boat.

Three Ways To Learn Swimming

Candee 6:29

So what does it mean to learn to swim in grief? I would like to offer three things that research and lived experience keep returning to. First, naming it. Studies in effective neuroscience, the work of Matthew Lieberman and others, show that putting feelings into words dampens the intensity of emotional experience. Naming the wave doesn't stop it, but it gives you something to hold on to. I am grieving. Said simply, said with truth, spoken aloud. Second, other swimmers. Grief is profoundly isolating, and yet isolation is its worst companion. Research on bereavement is consistent. People who have had even one person who can tolerate sitting with them in sorrow, not fixing, not advising, just being present. Fair meaningfully better. You don't need a crowd, you need someone willing to get in the water with you. Third, continuity, not closure. We talk about closure as if grief ends. It doesn't, but grief can transform. The continuing bonds theory in psychology suggests that healthy grieving isn't about letting go. It's about finding new ways to carry the person or the loss with you. The relationship changes shape. It becomes part of how you move through the world.

Undertow Grief And Getting Help

Candee 8:32

We should remember, though, that grief can get complicated. Not all grief is the same. And I want to say this plainly: some grief carries an undertow, traumatic loss, suicide, ambiguous loss, when someone is physically present but gone in other ways, as in dementia, addiction, estrangement, disenfranchised grief, losses that society doesn't recognize or sanction, a miscarriage, a pet, a relationship that was kept secret. These griefs pull you under differently. The waves are less predictable. The shame can be its own current, making it harder to reach for help. If you are in the undertow, that is not a character flaw. It is a signal that you need more than swimming lessons. You may need a lifeguard. There's no shame in that. The ocean does not punish you for the strength of its own current. Professional support, such as therapy, grief groups, crisis lines, is a strength, not a last resort. You can start in your parish or a nearby parish where grief groups are supported.

Grief As Love That Remains

Candee 10:19

Lastly, we should remember what grief carries. There is something else the ocean holds that I want to name before we close. Because grief is not only loss. Grief is the shape that love takes when the object of love is gone. To grieve deeply is to have loved deeply. The ocean is not separate from the relationship you had. It is the relationship you had, transformed. This doesn't make loss bearable by force. I'm not asking you to reframe your pain into gratitude. This would be a kind of violence. But it does mean that when you are in the water, you are not just surviving absence. You are carrying presence. The person, the time with them, the meaning of what was. The ocean holds all of it. The waves are not erasing the shore. They are touching it again and again and again. Because that is what waves do. They return over and over again. If you are grieving right now, whether it is fresh or old or something you've never had the language to name, I'm not asking or suggesting that you should feel better. I'm asking you to stop fighting the water. The ocean will not be argued with, it will not be rushed, it does not require your permission to exist. What it does require is that you stay in your body, that you breathe, that you let someone know you are there in the water. And on the days when you cannot see the shore, and there will be those days, remember the shore is still there. The ocean is not quite infinite, and you are not alone in it. And there is a difference, even if it doesn't feel like it yet, between being overwhelmed and being swept away. You are still here. That matters. Keep swimming. Remember what David Kessler said. "Grief is not a disorder or a disease or a sign of weakness. It is the price of love and one of the most profoundly human experiences any of us will ever have."

Closing

Candee 13:53

That concludes another episode. A new one drops every Friday. You can find us on Amazon Music, Apple Music, and Spotify. If you have questions or need assistance, my contact information is in the show notes. Remember to be gentle with yourself this week. Gentle with others. Always travel with God at your side. Vaya con Dios.