From Grief to Gratitude: Fourteen Years of Healing through Food
As I write this final piece for fyi50+, I find myself reflecting on a longer journey—one that began in grief and evolved into gratitude, creativity, and healing.
Fourteen years ago, I could not have foreseen that loss would lead me to create the blog, Good Grief Cook, or that sharing my story would connect me so deeply with others seeking comfort through food and words. What began as a personal act of survival became a shared space of remembrance, resilience, and love.
Writing about grief was never part of my plan, yet it became the very thing that brought me back to life. Each recipe, each reflection, became a small step toward understanding that sorrow and joy are not opposites, but partners in our human experience. Today, as I transition from the soul work of mourning to the spirit work of joyful living, I carry forward all that this journey has taught me—a reverence for stillness, an appreciation for transformation, and a renewed sense of joy in what life continues to offer.
When the kitchen became my sanctuary
In the beginning, the kitchen was my sanctuary. Measuring, stirring, and tasting gave rhythm to my days when everything else felt uncertain. Cooking and baking became a form of prayer—an act of love for those still with me and a way to honor those I had lost. Over time, recipes became more than food; they became stories, symbols of resilience, and reminders that love doesn’t end when life does. The recipes, I came to realize, are love made edible.
How food holds memory and emotion
Food holds emotion. A loaf of bread can carry forgiveness. A simmering soup can preserve memory. A shared meal can bridge the space between the living and the lost. In this way, the kitchen became both altar and classroom—a place to mourn, to remember, and eventually to celebrate. The first glimmer of hope came when I baked his favorite bourbon chocolate cookie recipe and shaped in a heart a moment I shared in my very first blog post. Cooking had transformed from something I did for others into something I experienced with them, even those no longer physically present.
The community that heals together
This space, and the readers who filled it, gave me purpose. Your messages, your shared stories, and your willingness to walk beside me through both grief and celebration have been a gift beyond measure. Together we explored navigating grief as a marathon, the ongoing work of healing after loss, discovering we weren’t alone in our pain. You reminded me that we heal not in isolation but in community, and that kindness is the quiet thread that holds us all together. To those who cooked my recipes, shared your own, or simply read along quietly, you made the writing matter.
From soul work to spirit work: What comes next
As I look ahead, I feel both nostalgia and anticipation. Grief never truly ends. It reshapes itself, softens at the edges, and makes space for light to enter. Spirit work, for me, is about embracing that light and finding joy again in the simple things: a good meal, a full heart, a shared laugh. It’s about continuing to create, but now from a place of peace rather than pain.
Now, as I close this chapter, I do so with immense gratitude. The lessons of loss and love have prepared me for what comes next. I look forward to a season of spirit work, where I continue to seek joy, connection, and meaning in new forms. I leave with a heart full of appreciation for every reader who found solace or inspiration in these pages. I wish you peace and joy.
Thank you for allowing me to tell my story, and for letting Good Grief Cook be a small part of yours. Though this may be goodbye from these pages, the work continues. The kitchen light is still on. There will always be room at the table—and the door is open.
“Grief never truly ends. It reshapes itself, softens at the edges, and makes space for light to enter.”
EDITOR’S NOTE
For the past two years, Lisa Keys has shared her journey of healing through food with fyi50+ readers. Her honest reflections on grief, loss, and finding joy again have touched countless hearts.
As Lisa transitions to the “spirit work of joyful living” she writes about in this piece, we thank her for her vulnerability, her warmth, and her reminder that the kitchen can be a place of both mourning and celebration.
We wish Lisa all the best in her continued journey. Her blog, Good Grief Cook, continues to offer comfort and connection through food and storytelling.
— Heidi Frankel, Publisher
