The Ugliest of the North

While searching for something to watch, I came across an episode titled, The Ugliest of the North, from Ugliest Homes in America. I'm familiar with the show because it was something Keesha and I watched when she lived with me. The title captured me and resonated with where I find myself emotionally today as I approach a set of anniversaries that mark one of the ugliest times in my life:

• February 10th - the day Keesha entered hospice.

• February 11th - her birthday.

• February 20th - the day she took her last breath.

  
  

This time of year, winter is at its peak in the Midwest. February is often the month of brutal cold snaps and heavy snowfalls, where the air is biting, and the landscape feels frozen in place. It is the season that feels barren, nights are long, and hope is tested. Grief feels like winter.

Grief, in many ways, is just like the ugliest of the north. It is barren, frigid, and unrelenting. It brings unpredictable storms and waves of emotions. It forces you into hibernation, not just physically, but emotionally. You shrink inward, holding onto the weight of what was and what will never be again. Grief is the storm that buries you in memories, the cold that seeps into your bones and makes warmth feel impossible.

Grief if ugly.

So how do I recognize the necessity of grief without becoming consumed by it? Here are four things I do:

1. I Name It – Just as we track winter storms and prepare for their impact, I name my grief. I don’t push it down. I don’t pretend it’s not there. I acknowledge that this is a hard season, and that is okay.

2. I Find Warmth in Small Things – In winter, we fight the cold by layering up, sitting by fires, drinking warm drinks. In grief, I fight the freeze by seeking moments of warmth whether it’s looking at a photo of Keesha and smiling or extending much needed grace to myself.

3. I Allow Movement, Even in Stillness – The cold makes us want to curl up and do nothing, but movement—however slow—is what keeps us from growing numb. The same is true of grief. I can sit in my sorrow, but I can also take steps forward. That might mean journaling or blogging, speaking her name, continuing the work that honors her legacy, or simply choosing to get out of bed on the hardest days.

4. I Hold onto the Promise of Change – Just like winter does not last forever, neither does the heaviest grief. I remind myself that seasons shift. Healing is not about forgetting, it’s about learning how to live with love and loss in the same breath.

   
   

Grief may feel like the ugliest of the north right now, but even in the coldest places, beauty exists. Snow eventually melts. Frozen ground gives way to new life. And though February may feel endless, March is always on the horizon.

So I sit with my grief, but I do not let it become my home. I endure the winter, knowing that warmth will return. I'm visiting the ugliest part of the north but just like the show, we'll visit another region soon enough.