Grief Doesn’t Only Live in Cemeteries—Sometimes It Lives in the Water

When my dad died, I couldn’t connect to him in a graveyard.
It felt cold.
Empty.
Artificial.
It didn’t feel like him.

I didn’t find him standing over stone.
I found him where we used to exist together:
on the water, on the beach, in the cast, in the waiting, in the simple rhythm of being outside.

Fishing became the place where grief didn’t swallow me—it gave me a place to breathe.

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Fishing Gave Me a Way to Grieve Without Falling Apart

Grief is overwhelming because it has nowhere to go.
You sit with memories, images, regrets, love that has no landing place.

Fishing became a landing place.

Not because it “fixed” anything—but because it gave me:

• Something to look forward to

• A task I could focus on

• A routine that kept me grounded

• A moment of distraction from the pain

• A way to regulate my nervous system

• A way to feel close to him, not far away

Grief needs movement, ritual, and meaning—fishing gave me all three.

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Nature Helped My Nervous System Do What Trauma Made Impossible

Trauma therapists talk about attunement, regulation, and connection with the environment.
Fishing naturally creates all of this:

🟢 1. Sensory grounding

• The sound of waves

• Rod in your hand

• Cool air on your face

• The rhythm of reeling

This regulates your vagus nerve, slows your breathing, and interrupts the internal chaos grief causes.

🟢 2. Bilateral movement (similar to EMDR)

Casting and reeling mimic bilateral stimulation.
Your body is literally processing emotion while you fish.

🟢 3. Mindfulness without forcing it

You don’t have to sit still and meditate.
Being outside is the meditation.

🟢 4. Space to feel without being drowned by feelings

Nature creates enough distance that the pain becomes tolerable.

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IFS: Finding the Parts of Me Still Holding My Dad

When I’m fishing, I can hear different parts of me more clearly.

• The young part that still wants his approval

• The sad part that misses him

• The angry part that feels robbed

• The protector who pretends he’s fine

• The calm part that feels closest to him by the water

IFS teaches that every part of us needs something different.
Fishing gave me the quiet to actually listen.

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I Found My Dad in the Things We Loved, Not in the Place He Was Buried

Some people grieve through ritual.
Some through religion.
Some through routine.
I grieved through saltwater, sunrise, and tides.

I didn’t feel guilty for not visiting the grave.
I realized:

I don’t connect to him in the dirt. I connect to him in what he loved.
In what we shared.
In the places where our memories live.

He wasn’t gone when I picked up the rod—he was right there.
In the cast.
In the patience.
In the way the ocean forces you to slow down and pay attention.

Fishing became a relationship with him that didn’t end when his life did.

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Fishing Gave Me a Sense of Identity When Grief Took Everything Else

When you lose a parent, part of your identity breaks off with them.

Fishing gave me:

• A sense of agency

• A hobby that created meaning

• A reason to get out of the house

• A way to feel like myself again

Every fish landed wasn’t just a catch—it was proof I was still here.
Still alive.
Still connected to something bigger than the pain.

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Nature as Trauma Therapy: Why It Works

Trauma therapy tools work beautifully in nature:

🟦 EMDR + Nature

Watching waves crash is a natural bilateral rhythm.
Walking up and down the beach is bilateral movement.
Your brain processes memories more gently outside.

🟩 IFS + Nature

Quiet environments make it easier to hear your inner system.
Parts become less overwhelming when the environment feels safe.

🟨 Brainspotting + Nature

When you’re staring at a single point on the horizon, your brain opens the deeper neural networks where grief lives.

🟥 DBT Skills in Nature

• Mindfulness: noticing tide, wind, sand

• Self-soothing: sensory input everywhere

• Distress tolerance: grounding through action

🟪 Attunement with Nature

Your body syncs with the environment:
the tide, the wind, the cycles
—your grief finds a rhythm.

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Fishing Became the Bridge Between Loss and Connection

The hardest part of losing a parent isn’t the death—it’s the empty space afterward.

Fishing filled the space with:

• Purpose

• Ritual

• Connection

• Presence

• Healing

• Memory

And most importantly:
it gave me a way to continue the relationship instead of ending it.

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You Don’t Have to Grieve Traditionally to Grieve Honestly

Not everyone finds healing in a cemetery.
Some of us find it in the cast.
Some in the woods.
Some hiking.
Some gardening.
Some kayaking.
Some sitting on a pier at 5am listening to the ocean breathe.

Grief is personal.
And if nature—fishing, hiking, sunrise walks—helps you feel connected, regulated, and closer to the person you lost, that’s valid.

Sometimes healing comes from the places they loved.
Sometimes from the things you shared.
Sometimes from the version of yourself that feels closest to them.

That’s grief.
That’s love.
And that’s healing.

schedule ehre if you want to elarn how fishing can assist you in healing https://coastalclaritypsychotherapy.com/

https://www.liebertpub.com/doi/abs/10.1089/eco.2022.0064?journalCode=eco