Planting Connection in Tender Seasons: Grief, Third Spaces, and the Joy We Grow Together

Between rocks and light, connection grows quietly. Grief and joy meet in tender seasons. Photo: Yurani Cubillos.

During this time of year, when friends and families gather, it’s easy, and almost expected, to experience grief. Maybe this holiday season, someone you shared last year with isn’t here anymore. Maybe the expectations you had for the new year didn’t work out, and you’re grieving the things that didn’t happen, the year you once imagined for yourself. A relationship you were holding onto so tightly that you had to let go of. The friendships you thought were forever but had to end.

Grief collage by Yurani Cubillos.

Grief looks like so many different things, and all of it is valid. But what if we took a moment to look at what can also coexist alongside this grief? Did you find a new hobby that fills you with joy? Did you put your ideas out into the world and receive love and support in return? Did the space left by someone you cared for create room for a new connection to enter?

During a season that constantly pushes us to accumulate more and more material things, I want to invite you to take inventory of your garden instead.

What were your roses this year? What were your thorns? And maybe most importantly, what needs to be pruned?

To the art of pruning your garden. Illustration: Yurani Cubillos

This incredibly thoughtful writing exercise was shared with me by one of my roses this year: a new friend in my garden, Justice. We met through mutual friends, and I attended a few of his very intentional writing gatherings. Most recently, he invited a small group of us to the beach, where we did this exercise together. It became a beautiful way to share, to be seen, and not feel so alone.

Sitting there, with the sound of the waves and the openness of the horizon, I was reminded how rare it is to be in spaces that don’t rush us toward solutions or silver linings. Spaces where we can name what hurt without being asked to shrink it, and where joy is welcomed without guilt. There was no fixing, only listening, witnessing, and allowing our stories to land gently, exactly as they were.

It was also a gentle reminder that third spaces and connection don’t just disappear; they happen where we choose to plant, where we tend, and where we water. This season holds both the ache and the warmth. The missing and the becoming. The thorn and the rose. Grief is here, and so is our joy. They are allowed to coexist.

Vision board made by Yurani Cubillos on December 2024

FAQs

1. Is it normal to feel grief even when nothing “bad” just happened? 

Yes. Grief doesn’t only come from loss in the traditional sense. We grieve unrealized plans, shifting relationships, versions of ourselves we outgrew, and seasons that didn’t unfold the way we hoped. Tender seasons often bring these feelings to the surface, and all of it is valid.

2. What are “third spaces,” and why do they matter during times of grief? 

Third spaces are the places we gather outside of home and work, bookstores, beaches, writing circles, community tables, quiet corners shared with others. They matter because they remind us we don’t have to carry everything alone. These spaces help us be seen, heard, and held without expectation.

3. How can grief and joy exist at the same time?

 Grief doesn’t cancel out joy, and joy doesn’t erase grief. Like a garden, we can hold thorns and roses at the same time. As we tend what needs care, pruning, watering, planting, we often discover moments of connection, creativity, and warmth growing right alongside the ache.