January 24, 2026
by Denice Dalen Freih
It has been a long time since my daughter and her boyfriend both died as a result of a car accident. She was just weeks shy from turning twenty on her golden birthday. Without warning, our lives were shattered. My heart, broken. Grief was a constant companion. But somehow in my deepest grief, I found another companion: Memories. I always had the best memories of her and those memories carried me in my darkest hours. I remembered her smile, her sense of humor, and how she lived life fully–with joy and intention. A literal100 mile-an-hour whirlwind! She was motivated. A goal-setter. I still remember her talking about her goals and dreams. Her bucket list of things to do and adventures to take. To this day those precious memories of how she lived and who she was still warm my heart and make me smile.
Recently something made me think about my own bucket list.…It’s been a while since I’ve thought about what’s on it—or used to be. After my daughter died, six months later my nephew died from cancer. Then my mother-in-law. Followed by my best friend who was there through it all. Then my mom. And finally, my brother-in-law… All within three years of her loss. It was a lot of grief to unpack. “Complex Grief,” they called it, and I was simply in survival mode. For years. And I was definitely not thinking about a shiny bucket filled with fun adventures and dreams.
Years passed and one day I noticed hope was slowly returning hidden in bits and pieces of joy. We had a litter of puppies, and I remember belly-laughing for the first time in a long time at their antics. Then my first grandchild was born, followed by 5 more. Six grandchildren. Oh, my greatest joys!
And though there were joyful moments in those first ten years or so within my grief journey, the constant joy which existed in the “before loss” timeline of life, seemed more like a tattered rag in the “after loss” portion of life in which I was currently living. Joy was definitely more fleeting than constant.
But with time and grief work came more healing, and with more healing came more joy. I still remember how the simple joy of seeing the ocean for the first time, and sitting on that beach in Florida listening to the waves and soaking up the sun soothed my soul. And how walking along a tropical beach on my first trip to Mexico brought such newfound joy. Or how enjoying the Grand Canyon brought wonder and awe.
However, those joy-filled experiences, as magnificent as they were, still didn’t seem to prompt my bucket list to make a re-appearance. It got lost in the busyness of life. There was work to do. Grandchildren to visit. The daily ups and deep downs of life to deal with. Then one day there it was.
My Bucket.
Battered and empty. But it was there. Beckoning me to fill it with a list. And as exciting as that sounds, it was also intimidating. Now on the “downward side of life”, with less years left to live than those already lived, I was filled with doubt. What could I possibly add to a bucket list at this stage of my life? Life, with all its losses, had shattered any list I once had. So I set that battered bucket aside. Bucket lists are for dreamers, right? I guess I wasn’t capable of dreaming anymore.
But that bucket kept popping up. In various conversations. At work. On social media. Even in dreams. So one cold night in the dark of winter and beside the glow of a lighted Christmas tree, I sat down with that old bucket. And decided to be intentional in filling it with my list of things to do and adventures I wanted to have…with my heart warmed by the thought my daughter might have been proud of my intentionality.
There weren’t huge items on my list. A dream to take a trip with my grandkids altogether. To go back to the Boundary Waters. Even build a butterfly garden. Small things. But after a couple more items…I was stuck. That “magic number of 10″ in the “Top 10 Things to do on your Bucket List” stalled at five.
Shortly after, I had lunch with a sweet friend I had met years before at a grief support group and was sharing the story about my half-filled bucket dilemma when she said something I had heard long ago, “Never stop listening to the music inside you.” That resonated. When I got back home ideas for that bucket finally began to flow…like the music within was playing once more. There were still things left which I wanted to do, maybe not the grandiose items like before, but small meaningful ones: Volunteer. Be courageous enough to try something new. Look for beauty in each day. In that moment I realized my list had changed because I had changed. And that was okay.
Where are you today?
Maybe life has beaten you up, too. Maybe it feels like your bucket has been empty a while or all the joy in life is long gone. Though loss might have shattered your dreams, by intentionally making connections, finding support and working through your grief, healing can come for you too.
Do you still believe in dreams, or bucket lists, or even that you will feel the life within you return one day? If not, consider using the solace of winter to do the hard work of grief. Read. Journal. Exercise. Connect. Or has loneliness and isolation set in, and become overwhelming at times? Could you use the support of others? If so, Bri’s Lodge has new groups starting soon. We are a safe place in this winter season of your life where others understand loss, with opportunities to share what has helped you, while also learning what has helped them navigate the emptiness of grief. There are also workshops to attend, a library filled with various books about the grief journey, along with many other helpful resources.
Just as a long winter eventually ends and spring comes round, so can hope and healing come back around as well.
And maybe a bucket is waiting there for you to fill with your own list of hopes and dreams. And maybe even adventure.
Dare to fill it fully. Gently. Richly.