โ๐๐ฌ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐ฌ๐๐๐ฌ๐ก๐๐ฅ๐ฅ ๐ก๐จ๐ฅ๐๐ฌ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐ฌ๐จ๐ง๐ ๐จ๐ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐จ๐๐๐๐ง, ๐ฌ๐จ ๐ฐ๐ข๐ฅ๐ฅ ๐ ๐ก๐จ๐ฅ๐ ๐ฒ๐จ๐ฎโ 
Grief, in many ways, is like the ocean.
Some days the waves are heavy and relentless, arriving without warning and leaving us breathless. Other days the water is calmer, offering space to rest and simply exist. The ocean never disappears. It changes, just as grief does.
Along the shore, grief leaves behind seashells. Small reminders of love, memory, and connection. Some are smooth from time and touch, others fragile and sharp-edged. We donโt choose when we find them, but when we do, they remind us of what was held, what was lost, and what still remains.
Grief asks us not to outrun the ocean, but to learn how to walk its shoreline – carrying both the weight of the waves and the quiet beauty left behind.
Last month at BLOOM, each person in attendance was given a large seashell to decoupage an ocean wave onto. Much like gemstones, each month of the year has its own โbirth shellโ – a shell that carries meaning and symbolism for those born under it. Each parent was able to go home with the birth shell of their child and a pearl, to place inside their โshell that holds a wave,โ as a reminder that love still remains.
