Growing together: Being locally rooted 

Wild Grief is deeply rooted in the South Puget Sound soil. We provide a stable footing for those pathfinding their uncharted territory of grief, fostering a lasting bond with the raw beauty of this place. Wild Grief’s firm grounding in our community is our foundation that makes a lasting impact, reminding us all that from the smallest seed, something extraordinary can flourish.

In 2015, our founders were facilitating traditional grief support groups and observed how much more progress and healing occurred through movement, leaving daily routines and just being outside in nature. They saw and felt wild spaces can hold the raw emotions and grief journeys of diverse youth and families. In the landscape of grief support, our founders built something unique and planted a seed that grew into a sturdy tree known as Wild Grief. Our organization is now, in 2023, a flourishing perennial, and is gathering an abundant harvest of community and healing to those dealing with the anguish and mystery of grief.

Exploring our local region: Stories from Our Backpacking trips 

At Wild Grief, we are grateful to be rooted in one of the most beautiful places in the world. Western Washington is a perfect landscape for the work we do. Our backpacking trips have taken us to some rugged, wild and breathtaking places. As we explore the theme of “Being Locally Rooted” we take a moment to reflect on the way the different landscapes can create a unique backdrop for our grief journey. 

Exploring our local region: The Alpine Mountains

When we take our teens to one of our favorite hike locations in the alpine mountains of the Goat Rocks Wilderness, we are surrounded by craggy  peaks and heart-racing vistas. Together, we traverse our grief as we traverse the slopes: finding our way while walking together, all the time in our senses. Lying out under the Milky Way galaxy after dinner, staring through the deep dark, conversation, insights and connections emerge in ways not possible under streetlights. We adapt to terrain and weather as we feel the metaphors to our own grief journeys. At Goat Lake, we often get to play in the snow in t-shirts under the midsummer sun. The Pacific Crest of the Cascade Mountains takes us out of our minds, into our hearts and the vast world of possibility and change. We remember each moment is all we ever have, and we live it on this journey with people who know something of what we feel and experience. We are not alone.  

“You should definitely go out of your comfort zone and do this. It will help to talk to others who have been through the same stuff.” - 2023 Teen backpack participant

Exploring our local region: The Beach 

Make it stand out

On our backpacking trips to beaches of the Washington coast, the ocean is our constant companion and becomes a metaphor for our grief. The grief can rise up and soak us, we can be discouraged and exhausted climbing over headlands and back to sea, and the waves roar, but then become calm. The journey for a moment can seem endless. And then we find camp, make shelter, start a fire and share the awe. We trade our protective hiking boots for bare feet and the sand between our toes. We navigate the tangle of driftwood logs that were once alive and towering – and, transformed, are still so beautiful. The Washington coast’s essence is a vital, wild freedom that makes us feel we can release our grief and the warm wind might carry it away. 

“I learned how to be comfortable with the uncomfortable.”

- 2023 Teen Backpack Participant

Exploring our local region: The Rainforest

Make it stand out

This year was Wild Grief’s first backpacking trip to the Quinault Rainforest. We were embraced by endless hues of green as we trekked into the towering cedar forest never cut by a steel saw. The flow of the Quinault River in torrents and eddies changed on our journey upriver, reminding us of our own changes in our grief. The shifting river had cleared flats large enough to watch streaks of meteors in the starry night. Venturing deeper into the Olympic National Park on our day hikes away from camp, we encountered toppled trees with saplings growing on their downed trunks. We sat and rested together for an hour, examined a twelve-foot root ball, and spoke of things we can change and things we cannot. We all felt renewed and we laughed around suppers and shared what we are grateful for.

“A helpful part was knowing that other people grieve the same way I do.”

- 2023 Teen Backpack Participant

Our partnership with The Washington Trails Association (WTA) and its Outdoor Leadership Training program. 

Wild Grief has partnered with the Washington Trails Association (WTA) from our start. WTA is crucial to accomplishing our mission by providing high quality camping equipment and outdoor clothing to loan to all participants that helps us provide safe access to the outdoors. Without the WTA, we would have difficulty providing all of our services without charge to our participants. Moreover, the WTA Outdoor Leadership Training program helps us in designing custom workshops for our guides. They teach some of the essential skills and knowledge required for our guides to lead safe and effective outdoor programs. With many of our guides coming from a background in grief support, it is vital that they also learn how to lead groups in nature. This covers everything from emergency planning and meal prep to how to properly set up a tent to protect from rain. 

This year the Outdoor Leadership Program is celebrating its 10th anniversary and they featured Wild Grief in their video reviewing the program's success! 

Here is a video that was just released 

JESSICA NEAL

Age: 18 Hometown: Winlock, WA

2018 teen hike participant and Wild Grief board member, shares her journey of hope and healing through grief support groups. 

Favorite quote: “If you judge a fish on its ability to climb a tree, it will go through life believing it is stupid.”

What is your experience with grief?

My mother died when I was 15 from ovarian cancer at the age of 52, in 2016. I recently left my house because of family issues as well.

How did you hear about Wild Grief, and why did you decide to go on the trip last year?

I heard about it through Sound Care Kids. One of the facilitators was telling me to try it out. I tried it out because I trusted his opinion, but was still skeptical.

How would you describe the backpack experience with Wild Grief?

Absolutely wonderful. You come out on a whole new planet. I personally felt at peace and just so tranquil with everything. I was just happy.

What do you want other teens to know about this experience?

Even though it’s got a funny name and isn’t advertised on TV, don’t think it’s “too lame” or “I don’t need that” because you might experience something that you didn’t know you needed or something that can just be a fun time camping.

What do you want potential donors/funders to know about this work?

This program really touches kids lives and brings a new community and support system for free. It can motivate them to want to keep looking into grief support and refer loved ones they know to help with their own grief. The people who run it are so wonderful. You can’t not have fun no matter who you are.

How have you been involved with Wild Grief after the trip last year?

I decided to apply to be a board member and we have meetings once a month along with some fundraising and/or conferences with bigger organizations.

What have you learned along your grief journey? How has the work of processing grief changed you?

Life sucks and society likes to pretend it never will. The process changed me into a completely different person that I am grateful to be. If I never went to any grief support, I have no idea where I would be. I love the outlook I have on life now. I’m not afraid of death and I understand how normal it is. Even though that’s pretty simple, it is also a pretty big realization.

What do you want others to know about grief?

It’s scary and it sucks but if you keep your mind open, good things will present themselves; you just have to be aware they are there to take advantage of them. People want to help, and they think you will get over it by the time they forget it bothers you. That’s where the support comes in and takes you away from the general public that can be pretty ignorant and take you to a group that says “ugh, I hate that too.”

What do you want others to know about Wild Grief?

It’s a wonderful opportunity to try something new and approach grief in a new, unique way that helps more than you’d even realize at the time.

What are your plans for the future?

I’m going to college at Western Washington University with a track scholarship, but I plan on continuing to volunteer for Wild Grief and Camp Erin, and maybe try to start grief groups at college. As far as a career goes, I know for sure I’ll go into STEM, just not sure which part yet.

by Julia Clevinger, Wild Grief Young Adult Program Participant

Growing up, I had a tendency to view my mom as the sun. Warm and bright, she sustained my life. Her blond hair emulated the brightness she gave the world around her, her kindness and generosity knew no boundaries. And, if I was around her too much, especially as a teenager, I would feel burned out. Tired, argumentative, and wishing that I could recharge in the shade for a day away from her. 

Julia & her mom

On the day that she died, I believed that the sun left the Earth. The world looked and felt dark, I didn’t believe that I would be able to feel happiness again. There were days that I could not stop crying. And the days where the tears stopped, I felt guilty, that I should cry the rest of my life because my mom had died and that I would miss her. The complex emotions relating to grief felt amplified in my 18-year-old brain. She died on May 8th, 2017, one month and four days before I graduated from high school. I started navigating the trails of my life blindly, overwhelmed by all I had to do to simply survive. The areas in my life that used to be full of beautiful, blossoming flowers now sat stagnant and wilted. I wondered if I would ever feel happy again. 

I left for college in the Fall of 2017, never mentioning to my new friends that my mom had died. I thought that if I could keep it concealed, in a box put away in the corners of my mind, my life could continue on. I would spend my days going to class and socializing and my nights spent isolated and mourning my mom. My life continued this way for years, never learning to process the death of my mom and weighed down by grief that wasn’t improving with time. 

I joined Wild Grief’s Young Adult program in the Fall of 2020, at the age of 21. At this point in my life, I felt embarrassed to still be struggling with my mom’s death to the extent that I was. I had difficulty even mentioning that my mom was dead without bursting into tears, regardless of where I was. I wasn’t sure what to expect to gain from this group, but I had come to recognize that my life couldn’t continue on the way that it was going. I had not opened up to anybody about how isolating losing my mom felt, and now I was going to do that with a group of strangers.

I cried during the entirety of my first session, and for the first time, I wasn’t embarrassed. Instead, I was able to look at other people in similar situations and felt support and understanding. I realized that other people had felt the same depressing feelings that I had and we all united to celebrate the people we had lost. As our journey progressed, we all became familiar with each other’s losses and leaned on one another for support.

During the middle of the program, I was completing a Wild Grief journaling prompt when my family in Oregon called me and told me that my grandmother had passed away in her sleep the night prior. I immediately found comfort in being able to post it in Band, the social app that Wild Grief utilized to connect its members in the days that we didn’t meet. I was able to talk with my new friends about my loss and share memories of my grandmother. 

Wild Grief also gave us opportunities to engage in our grief journey throughout the week, with journaling prompts, art inspiration, time in nature, and mindfulness activities. I found myself seeking the outdoors to prepare myself to explore my grief. The solitude that I found helped me internally reflect with where I was on my grief Journey, my feet carrying me along the metaphorical and physical path that I was trekking. learned about the overwhelming emotions I was experiencing and how to manage them. Losing my mom was not in my control, but learning how I could process her death was. My time with Wild Grief was pivotal in my lifelong mental health journey.

Recently, a friend and I were travelling through Idaho and decided to stop and visit Ernest Hemingway’s grave. Atop of Hemingway’s massive grave marker, visitors had left an assortment of coins and empty liquor bottles. These relics lay tribute to Hemingway’s troubled life, the coins symbolizing good luck as his journey on Earth ceased, a loving notion towards a man who took his life. A short way ahead of Hemingway's grave marker was another large tombstone, denoting the burial place of a local family. Although there was no fame associated with this family name, I found myself drawn to the relics left behind by family members. Atop the stone read “You must not deny experience of that which lies beyond the sun”. I took a picture of the marker, with my socks and sandals just peeking through along the bottom of the photo.

I’m not sure if heaven exists, or if my mom lived a life worthy of gaining entrance. But, I do know that her journey on Earth has ceased, and that all matters relating to life for her are continuing beyond the sun. And that, whatever it might be, is enough for me.