Grief is not easy. It is not easy to experience nor to heal. And I am finding it is not easy to write about either. Maybe you also feel that the world is bringing a great deal of grief at this moment in time? I woke up in the wee hours of the morning yesterday with a blog about grief on my mind. My heart has been extra heavy since hearing of Dolly Parton’s death, and so, I thought we could grieve together on the page.

Some of my first memories of Dolly go way back to her hits Here You Come Again, 9 to 5, and Islands in the Stream, her duet with Kenny Rogers. I used to belt all of these out whenever they played on the radio, and I laughed so hard watching her, Lily Tomlin, and Jane Fonda work the boss who thought he owned them (Lol… I know I am aging myself a minute)!

Since the sad news on Tuesday, it seems like the whole world is reaching for Dolly’s spirit. Me included. I am so glad to be focusing on her love and gentleness this week, even though sorrow is swelling in my throat and flowing from my eyes. I am beginning to feel more hope as her light is filling the whole sky while we grieve together.

It may sound odd, yet in her death I am feeling her love and seeing her light in a whole new way. Everywhere I turn, there is Dolly on a mural, on the Internet, on the TV, or a T-shirt. I see more clearly that her way of being in the world transcended barriers to living out her dreams, no matter the circumstances or era in time.

Love That Lives On

As I write, I am realizing that both my mom and Grandma Lillian had similar ways about them. Grandma didn’t complain too much or focus on what was hurting or hard. Her light reflected the beauty of color and her music brought much joy to my life. Whenever I spent time with her, I left feeling warm, loved, and carrying less weight of the world.

On the other hand, my mom worked differently around hardships. She had polio as an infant and did not walk until she was about 4 years old. She also lived with post-virus conditions throughout her life. She showed her love with a can-and-must-do spirit, unconditional acceptance, and endless game nights with our extended family.

I grieved hard when we lost these beautiful women who lived through wars and raised families while navigating societal limitations placed on them. They both remind me of what I now see in Dolly. I miss them both so very much, and I am so grateful I now hold them lovingly in my heart—otherwise, I would be a hot mess every time something reminds me of them.

After my mom died, one of my dear cousins shared something with me that became a glimmer of hope during this very painful time. She told me that the depth of our grief reflects the depth of the love we felt. Somehow, that helped me hold my sorrow a little differently. The enormity of my grief was also telling me something about the enormity of my love. I am forever thankful for these comforting words of wisdom.

When Grief Has Been Waiting

After watching Dolly Parton’s Christmas on the Square yesterday for the first time, I am recognizing that my grief is more than just for her. Some is surprisingly bubbling up for my loves who have gone before me. Still more for harm done to me and by me at times in my life. Still more is for the increasing suffering of our vulnerable ones right here at home, and still more comes from my own existential rumblings about turning 60 last year.

Dolly’s Christmas movie reminded me that people who are hurting often hurt people without intention or understanding of what happened to cause the harm. It also reminds me that the hurt that harms may well be grief that has been ignored because it was too painful to feel at the time. Our brains are built to temporarily suppress suffering for survival. When the grief is held back for too long, it can be expressed in unintended emotional reactions rather than an intentional response to the present situation.

Giving Grief Somewhere to Go

Through my own life and journey of becoming a therapist, I understand that our grief needs tending to instead of bottling up inside. As I work through my grief for Dolly, I am finding even more beauty in the loves I have lost. Processing our difficult emotions helps our bodies release some of the steam and our minds let go of some of the pain. This creates space to slow down and stay present in the moment to respond more gently with ourselves and others.

I am realizing that Dolly’s death brought memories of my own sorrows. Interestingly, at the same time it brought relief from the pain with glimmers of hope that my once-lost love is forever home in my heart. I am learning that I am not alone in this new understanding.

Dolly intuitively understood that healing needs movement. In Dolly Parton’s Christmas on the Square, I first heard the beautiful words, “grief is love with nowhere to go.” While writing this article, I discovered that these words originated with writer Jamie Anderson, who wrote, “Grief is just love with no place to go,” in a deeply personal reflection on sorrow. She wrote that losing her mom’s dog rekindled sorrow for her mom, much like what I am experiencing today.

Moving Gently Through Grief

Thank you for reading along with my journey. My hope is that you may feel a little less alone today in your grief, and that you sense a glimmer of hope. Whether you’ve experienced trauma or heartbreak, a dear person or furry loved one has died, or you are heartbroken by the suffering around you—may some of your sorrow find release through our presence together on the page.

With love,
Tracy

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If you would find it helpful, you can download our Honoring Your Grief handout as a free companion to this article. It provides encouragement for healing grief with movement through stages and glimmers of hope.

Download the PDF here.

Therapy can offer a place to tend to grief instead of carrying it alone. I am here to sit with you in the tender places and help you discover what healing means for your heart. Please reach out if you would like support through your process.

Phone or Text: 727-353-0259

Email: Hello@HonorYourWay.com

Other Resources

1. Kessler, D. (2019). Finding meaning: The sixth stage of grief. Scribner.
2. Kübler-Ross, E. (1969). On death and dying. Macmillan.