Grief comes in all shapes and sizes. One of the most important things I have learned over the past few years is to allow myself to grieve at my own pace and in my own way — but it took a while to find the balance.
A few years ago, within a span of under two years, I lost my older brother very unexpectedly to a massive heart attack, and then my mom. My brother was only 62, and my mom was 86. I still continue to feel these losses deeply, as both of them played critical support roles in both my personal and professional life. I was lucky to have their encouragement when I needed it, and their insights, too. Plus, they were just plain good people whom I genuinely loved and really enjoyed talking to and spending time with.
Some of you may know the field of work that I’m involved in. I am currently the President and Co-owner of a group of offices that manage and coordinate stay-at-home senior assistance. I feel blessed because it is truly my calling and I am so grateful to be part of an industry that helps to care for the elderly community. Within the past few years, I have expanded from three locations to currently NINE across Northern Ohio. Needless to say, that level of growth takes a lot of hours, a lot of commitment, and having the right team and players in place.
I have always tended to dive head-first into my career and the challenges that work life presents to me. For me, working toward my goals and expanding our business has been amazing and very fulfilling. However, if I’m being completely honest, working as hard as I have has also been a great way to fill time so I don’t think so often about how much I still miss my brother and my mom. It all makes sense on the surface, but when that grief comes up and surprises you like it does every now and again, I think it ends up hitting me even harder. Because my body and mind are already kind of at their capacity from work-related stresses and being constantly on the go, when I would get that feeling of grief coming over me, I found it was harder to pull myself out of it. That’s not a fun feeling.
That’s why I have been making a stronger effort as of late to make sure that I am taking some more time for myself, and to allow those feelings of sadness, loneliness, loss, etc., to work their way through me. And this is where Centering Space has truly been a gift.
Centering Space has provided me with a peaceful environment — both literally and emotionally — to pause, breathe, and reconnect with myself. Whether through one of their thoughtful grief programs, a reflective prayer gathering, or simply quiet time in their sacred space, I’ve found the freedom to acknowledge my grief without judgment. The staff and community at Centering Space have welcomed me with such compassion and understanding — and being surrounded by others who are also navigating loss has helped me feel less alone.
What I appreciate most is that Centering Space doesn’t try to “fix” grief. Instead, it honors the experience of it. I’ve learned that grief isn’t a problem to be solved — it’s a journey to be traveled, and Centering Space helps light the path with kindness and patience. The programs are designed to gently support people wherever they are, and each visit has helped me feel more grounded, more present, and more capable of embracing both joy and sorrow in my everyday life.
I couple this with my love for hiking, taking long walks, and swimming. We are so lucky to live in an area where we have access to the MetroParks and all its scenic beauty! I use all these quiet opportunities to reflect on the past, remember the good times shared with my amazing brother and loving mom and our families, and ask God to help me maintain an attitude of gratitude for all the wonderful blessings in my life. Trying to maintain that work/life balance can be tough, but with time, self-compassion, and support from places like Centering Space, I am finding it does get easier. You never really get over the loss of a loved one, but you can find ways to allow the grief to work itself out, while still maintaining your own well-being. ~ Margie Orth
