Finding Comfort in Remembrance and the Depth of Connection

by Angie Petrie

As a counsellor, I’m often reminded that grief is never a linear path. It’s a tapestry woven with both the ache of loss and the warmth of cherished memories—a journey that asks us to feel deeply, to honour the love that lingers after a farewell, and to discover, gently, the beauty that remains. 

The Quiet Power of Remembering

 Recently, I shared a picture on Facebook: three delicate flower arrangements, lovingly placed by my Mum on the conservatory table. The flowers were meant to welcome the lovely ladies from the garden group, whose plans to visit a garden had fallen through. Instead, Mum opened her home, sharing her gift for arranging flowers and offering tea and homemade rock cakes (which, I must say, were scrumptious!). 

As I gazed at the photo, something in me shifted. 

My eyes lingered on one particular arrangement, a cluster of blooms in a small, beautiful vase that once belonged to Jennifer Rees Larcombe. Mum had asked to keep the vase, and suddenly, the tears began to fall. It’s been three years since Jen passed away, but in my heart, she lives on gloriously in heaven. She became a mentor, friend, in truth more like a grandmother, as she did for so many. The sadness I feel is tempered by gratitude, knowing that grief is, in truth, the echo of profound love. 

Navigating Loss: The Pain and the Joy

 It’s often said that the deeper the love, the deeper the ache of loss. Jen had a way of filling her home with love, each table adorned by tiny vases of freshly-picked flowers, a token of beauty for every guest. Some of those guests couldn’t make it into the garden, so she brought the garden to them, ensuring that everyone could delight in the wonders of nature, even if only from a chair at her table. 

Her devotion to the many visitors, at ‘Beauty from Ashes’ the house of prayer she founded, was tangible, just like the relationship she built with her loving father in heaven. In those moments of longing, when the ache of missing her feels sharp, I hold onto the memories like a comforting hug. I remember the laughter, the warmth, the way her presence made the world gentler. Each recollection is a lesson, a reminder of who she was to God, and I thank her—and Him—for the grace of such extraordinary connections. 

• Grief teaches us the value of love: The pain we feel is proportionate to the joy and connection we’ve experienced. It is a testament to the beauty of what was shared.
• Memories are healing: They invite us to pause and remember, to let our minds wander through moments of delight, laughter, and love.
• Pain is not the full story: Beyond the sharpness of loss lie years of joy, moments of kindness, and a legacy of affection that never truly fades.
• There are difficult moments mixed in with the joy, hard choices, and some moments of conflicted opinions, which don’t seem to matter now.

Sitting With the Ache: Why We Must Feel to Heal

 If we try to avoid the pain of grief, we also inadvertently block ourselves from feeling the depth of our bond with those we have lost. It’s as if we must walk through the sadness to rediscover the joy hidden within our memories. Grief is not a sign of weakness it’s a sign that something, or someone, has mattered deeply. It takes vulnerability to admit the loss and strength to work through it. 

With time, the intensity of the sorrow softens but not the shape of grief it’s left within us, but we can make space for gratitude. We learn to carry both the ache and the joy, holding them side by side. And in doing so, we honour our loved ones by keeping their memory alive in the simplest acts like placing flowers on a table or sharing cake and conversation with those who remain. 

A Gentle Invitation

If you are navigating loss, remember, you are not alone. Allow yourself to feel, to remember, and to celebrate the life and love that shaped your world. Embrace the tears when they come, for they are the rain that nourishes the garden of your heart. Sometimes, feelings of anger may arise in response to loss, but these emotions can also shift to sadness and be experienced and processed. 

And when you’re ready, look up—notice the beauty around you, reach out to others, and let the memories bloom anew, gently guiding you towards hope and healing. To everyone impacted by the closure of Beauty from Ashes this week, please accept my sincere recognition of your loss. I encourage you to hold onto the positive experiences and supportive community that have been part of your journey with the team and Jen’s heart of love for each of you.

^Jennifer Rees Larcombe and her beloved chihuahua, Noah.