Sometimes I think grieving people begin to see the world differently. Not in a dramatic way. But in quiet, almost sacred moments. A bird appearing at the exact right time. A sunset that feels too beautiful to be random. A breeze, a song, the ocean, a butterfly landing near you when your heart feels heavy. And for a second… it feels like them. Not because we’re imagining things. But because grief makes us deeply aware of connection, presence, and meaning. When someone you love dies, you start searching for them everywhere. And somehow, nature becomes one of the few places where the ache softens. The trees don’t ask questions. The ocean doesn’t rush your healing. The sky holds your grief without trying to fix it. And maybe that’s why so many grieving people feel close to their loved ones in nature. Because nature reminds us: nothing truly disappears. It changes form. Love does too. 🤍 Inside The Grief Letter, I write weekly reflections about grief, memory, healing, and the smal...