Blake’s brother died last week. His third. All three were younger than him.

I’ve lost three sisters. All of them.

Three and three. There’s something in that symmetry that feels almost too precise. Grief is never fair, but this is strangely… matched. Like we’ve been walking the same road in parallel, not just together.

I don’t know what to do with that, exactly. I’m not sure I need to do anything with it. But this week, it feels like the right thing to name.

The moon that sees everything

On Friday, there’s a Full Moon in Scorpio.

If you know anything about Scorpio, you know it doesn’t do surface. It goes under, and asks what you’ve been carrying, avoiding, and what needs to be felt.

This is the first of two Full Moons in May, which makes it a Blue Moon month. That’s rare, and it adds a sense of fate to whatever surfaces now. Think: completion, significance, and the feeling that what’s happening isn’t random, even if you can’t explain why.

What grief actually asks

I’ve worked with grief for thirty-five years, my own and other people’s. And I’ve come to believe it doesn’t ask what most people think it asks. It doesn’t ask you to move on. It doesn’t ask you to find the lesson or the silver lining or the reason it happened.

Grief asks to be witnessed. That’s it. 

Grief asks to be seen, called out, and allowed to exist without someone trying to fix it or rush it or turn it into something useful.

And when two people witness each other’s grief, they don’t carry it for each other. Because you can’t do that. But they stand next to each other while it moves through. And something in that parallel walking becomes its own kind of intimacy.

Three brothers. Three sisters. I’d call that a marriage that’s built on more than love. It’s built on the kind of knowing that doesn’t need words.

What to expect this week

There’s gonna be a pull toward depth. And definitely a reluctance to stay on the surface of things.

You might find yourself thinking about someone you’ve lost, because the energy this week makes space for that. The veil thins a little under a Scorpio Full Moon. The dead feel closer, in a true way.

You might also find yourself impatient with small talk, pretence, and with anything that asks you to perform ‘okayness’ when you’re not okay. That’s the Scorpio influence. It wants the real thing or nothing at all.

The belief that won’t survive this week

“I should be over this by now.”

You shouldn’t. Grief doesn’t work on a timeline. It doesn’t care how many years have passed, or how well you’re functioning, or how many people have had it worse.

Grief lives in the body, and resurfaces when it needs to. And the only way through it is to let it move through.  Not around it or over it. Through it.

So, if something old surfaces this week, know that it’s not a sign that you’ve failed to heal, but that you’re still alive, still feeling, and still connected to what matters.

That’s love, still looking for somewhere to land.

Why this matters

We don’t talk about the strange math of loss. The way it patterns. And the way some families seem to carry a particular shape of grief, passed down or shared sideways or echoed between partners who didn’t plan to match in this way.

But I think there’s something to be said for noticing it and naming the parallel. We’ve both walked this road. Different names, different years, same terrain.

Blake and I have buried seven siblings between us. But it’s the three and three that stops me. It’s the strange way our losses match. That’s not a tragedy we share, as much as two tragedies that rhyme. And somehow, that rhyme makes it more bearable, not less. Because neither of us has to explain what it costs. We already know.

If you’re carrying something this week, whether it’s old grief, new grief, or grief you thought you’d finished with, maybe this is permission to let it surface. The moon will soon be full, and the veil thin. And some things just need to be felt before they can settle.

Jonni

P.S. If you’re in a season of grief, not crisis, but the long, slow work of carrying what you carry, UNLIMITED might be the right container. Seven, thirty, or ninety days of real-time access, for when you need someone who understands that grief doesn’t ask to be fixed, but witnessed and walked with.