Welcome
A space for the griefful, the heartbroken, and the quietly courageous grief tender
I am so sorry for the disbelief and confusion you may be feeling
The deep body, mind, and soul pain, and the indescribable heartache
Your person died - your life has changed - this is horrible
I offer a place for you
I see you and meet you where you are
I do not yet know exactly what that looks like
But we can figure that out together
Just know
I am here
As you need
As you want
"Grief is not a storm to survive, but a garden to tend"
To live a griefful life — you can grief tend and you can offer a gentle, spacious garden to explore your grief, tell your story, feel what you feel, and connect with the resources and community that meet you where you are.
With presence, honesty, and compassionate listening, I will companion you as your grief unfolds in its own rhythm.
This is a place dedicated to tending the complexity of the natural world — living, growing, loving, grieving, dying, and death — and the deep human need for grief tending.
With Gratitude,
Karlyn
"Grief: It's how you love all those things in life that end."
-Stephen Jenkinson
I admire you for being here.
I look forward to connecting.
Peer-to-Peer Grief Support Offerings
From 40 Canadian dollars
From 40 Canadian dollars
"Connecting to our plant allies connects us to our roots and helps us heal.”
~ Jane Bothwell
Garden Remedies
why me?
I am Karlyn, a mother, a widow, and grief tender.
In April 2023, at 39 years old my life changed, my 6 year old daughters life changed - we changed - with the sudden and devastating death of my husband, her father.
That day in April initiated our grief — a ritual we showed up for, a grief we carry- quietly, privately, in the hidden corners of daily life.
Now, I 'd like to grieve out loud.
To make space.
To create movement.
To invite curiosity.
To help others grieve, mourn, grow, learn, remember, and honour the sacredness of their own grief.
Your grief is sacred.
My grief is sacred.
And this space is where we tend to it — gently, honestly, and together.
Grief is not a storm to survive, but a garden to tend.
