Thirteen years ago this month, (currently October 2026), my dad died. I didn’t have the tools, the resources, the emotional bandwidth, so to speak, back then. For about 6 months, I struggled, at night mostly. I would get up at two, three, odd hours of the morning, four o’clock, and I would go for walks. I didn’t know what else to do. There was this restlessness in me. Somehow it felt like going outside and walking helped me process the shock, the loss, the grief of my father’s death.

This month, my mom died – two days prior to this writing. And even though it’s hard and we are all grieving, I feel that I have so much more stability in my emotional being. I still feel sad. I feel heavy physically when I check my “I space”. I feel like I’m carrying a burden. But I also feel that I have many more tools, and I know how to reach out for support – things I didn’t possess 13 years ago.

I just didn’t know how to access the support that was there.

One of the tools was very evident yesterday when I was speaking to our little one, our seventh child, Monica. She had a really bad stomachache all of a sudden. And she said she had felt nauseous all week. My mom had been in the hospital for about 10 days before she died. Throughout the week, Monica would eat and feel better afterwards. However, yesterday she ate and felt worse. It just so happened that two of our children that live up in the Bay Area had just started their trek back north.

One of the questions that I learned from my brother Bruce was, “What can I give to myself right now?” …something that would give me more ease or more contentment or more peace.

And I asked Monica that question and she said, “I don’t know”, and I said that it’s ok to “not know” what we want to give ourselves to embrace ourselves in loving kindness.

I said let’s try a second question. “Is there something that the people around you can give you? Even if it’s not something that we could actually give you…but that in just asking for it – it might give you the same result: ease, the peace, the settling in your being?”

This one was easier for her. Being the youngest of seven, she said, “I want everybody around me.” And I thought, what a beautiful desire to have people around her, support in her space, “holding her” with love and tenderness. I said, “It’s amazing that you found that as the thing to ask for – because it makes so much sense with who you are, being the youngest of 7. Having grown up with six older siblings who can love you, support you, and be with you.”

And that was helpful. We both felt a piece of our burden release.

And then I said to Monica, “I don’t know if we have the wherewithal, the tools, the methodology, the programming in our neurologic being to release shock and tension and grief regarding somebody that we love so deeply – and that loved us so deeply. And that’s okay. Just to realize that maybe we are not programmed to let this go readily or easily.” And the recognition of that challenge was helpful.

And then a third discovery was recognizing that our minds tend to want to “solve” to create peace and normalcy. Of course, we want to feel settled and secure. And I asked her, “Do you feel like you put pressure on yourself to solve things or to get things right?” And she said yes. And I said, “This is something that you may feel pressured to figure out.” She said, “Well, I’m not sure what to do when I go back to school.” I said, “Is it okay to be with that, “not knowing” and just give it (the “not knowing) space and embrace it with love and care just like you would your little nephew or that little infant/child that you are, somewhere inside. To embrace that part of you that does not know.”

After our conversation, her tummy felt better. And as we cried together, I asked myself what I, Jorge needed from myself? And it was clear that giving the part of me that felt so wounded, so hurt, so laden, a chance to rest by a gentle brook in the shade of nature and to be there as long as necessary was going to be so relieving.

And even writing about it now it feels like it takes part of the burden off. It feels so good to be able to give that to myself, to give myself that sense of being in the shade by a brook in nature, that part of me that needs rest, that yearns for rest, yes maybe, solitude, ease, and comfort in nature….the generosity of nature always being giving, giving, giving, giving.

And then, the 2nd question, what did I need from others? To recognize that I am at a different pace in my grief. I can give myself permission to be allowed to slow down. To recognize that I am grieving. I am processing things at deep levels and it’s okay if I can’t be as responsive, as on my toes, as I usually am. It’s okay to communicate to those around me that I would love for them to give me ease and patience and gentle care for the grief and the sorrow that I am dealing with. And recognizing that I’m not used to asking others to grant me what I need. Often expecting myself to adjust to what others are needing and ignore my own needs. It’s okay to give ourselves grace in times of grief.

If you are also experiencing a season of grief, I hope this intimate reflection of my experience helps you as well.