From The Innkeepers

June 2025 Blog
Good Grief

As you know, we are in the midst of our own little “farewell tour” here through the groups that come and stay with us at the same time each calendar year. So far the first five months have raised both feelings of joy and sadness. There is a part of me that would like nothing more than to be able to stay at the Inn, but the overwhelming inner knowing is that as far as our bodies are concerned we have stayed beyond our expiration date. There is an inner grieving process going on around here, but on a good day it leads to a profound sense of thanksgiving as well as a sense of adventure as we open to that which is unfinished in our lives.

But grieving of another sort struck me this path month. A friend of 59 years, that I first met in 1966 when we entered the IHM convent together died unexpectedly. She had recently moved back to the Detroit area and was looking forward to re-establishing her life there. Sadly, that was not to be for her. I am sorry for her unlived life while at the same time celebrating the life of service that she lived. Flashbacks of moments of our shared history keep coming back to me and at some moments they make me smile and at others they bring tears. I keep telling myself, grief is good, it cleanses the soul.

In the past week, I also re-learned a lesson about grief from a woman in one of our retreat groups. From her I was reminded that grief never really leaves us- its intensity may wane but then it can bubble back up to the surface, even when you least expect it do so. It ebbs and flows depending on our current experiences. For this particular person it had been a number of years since the love of her life died, but when she started to talk about her soul mate and the circumstances surrounding their death, the sadness and the tears overcame her. Much to her own surprise, the feelings just came up seemingly out of nowhere, and there they were demanding her attention and my consolation. Grief calls forth compassion.

As I often do when trying to make sense of things and understanding them more deeply, I turn to the works of favorite authors and poets. I had the pleasure of meeting Mark Nepo twice in my life, as he is a local Michigan poet from the southwest part of the state. He is as powerful a person in the flesh as he is when his words come to life on a page. Soft spoken, mild mannered, and insightful.

As part of this month’s blog, I can’t think of a more fitting way to speak about the place of grief in our lives, the dualities surrounding grief, its entrance into and effect on our lives, than sharing this poem of his with you.

The poem is called:
“Adrift” by Mark Nepo

Everything is beautiful and I am so sad.
This is how the heart makes a duet of
wonder and grief. The light spraying
through the lace of the fern is as delicate
as the fibers of memory forming the web
around the knot in my throat. The breeze
makes the birds move from branch to branch
as this ache makes me look for those I’ve lost
in the next room, in the next song, in the laugh
of the next stranger. In the very center, under
it all, what we have that no one can take
away and all that we’ve lost face each other.
It is there that I’m adrift, feeling punctured
by a holiness that exists inside everything.
I am so sad and everything is beautiful.

It’s all that I can say for now. Thanks for listening.
Have a good month.

Marcia, Pat, Sharon and Ryan
Keepers of the Rustic Gate