In Honour

I’ve been holding and curating spaces for grieving people for seven years through The Grief Gang. For the last three of those, I've run grief circles for people carrying loss of different kinds: mothers, fathers, both parents, partners, siblings and friends.

Somewhere in the middle of almost every circle programme, we'd spend a week on something called continuing bonds — the idea that the relationship with the person we've lost doesn't end, it just changes shape. Through exploration of ritual, habit, and threads both old and new, we uncover the tools, knowledge and trust to take them with us. The reminder that we are capable of continuing our bond and honouring our loved ones continuously through big and small acts, day to day.

Every time, without fail, that was the week people talked about afterward and took with them. It was the session where the penny dropped and the dial changed. It was the permission — granted or rediscovered — that had been needed the whole time.

In Honour is that week, that session, that permission — unfolded into something longer, fuller and even more everlasting.

Every morning, I make a cup of tea (shamefully British). I explicitly only drink Yorkshire Tea — if you know, you know. One morning, as I did my usual routine — filled the kettle, got my mug out, popped my tea bag in — it downloaded to me. I only drink Yorkshire Tea because that's what my mum drank, and so did we as a household. It was in this moment that I laughed and connected the dots. It might sound daft or minutiae to some, but to me it was a reminder that I am always connected to her — through the big and small, the conscious and subconscious acts of my everyday. She is in my coding, more than just my DNA. I don't consciously think, each morning, "I am honouring and continuing a bond with my mother" — but I noticed it in that moment, and that was enough.

I've watched the same realisation land in circle after circle. Someone who still cooks a recipe exactly the way their partner did (or now does it their way, and has a little giggle every time they snap the pasta in half, knowing it would drive them mad).

Someone still takes the same shortcut their friend tipped them off to. Someone still says the phrase that isn't really theirs — it's their dad's — and they said it again without noticing it fall off their tongue.

Continuing bonds work was never about starting something from scratch. Most people already have something to build off. The work was just slowing down long enough to see it, giving it permission to matter and come to the light.

I know words like ritual and honouring can sound like they're pointing somewhere religious or spiritual. Sometimes they are, and if that's true for you, there's room for it here. But ritual, to me, is really just habit, noticed. It doesn't need belief systems behind it to count or exist. Whether you're deeply spiritual or not spiritual at all, the same question applies: what do you already do that keeps that wire live, and what might you like to begin, if there's nothing there yet?

Across five weeks, in a small live group, everything comes back to three things:

Story telling

Ritual

Reflection

Storytelling, because your person deserves to still be spoken about.

Ritual, because it's repetition and habit that keep a bond alive, not just grand gestures.

Reflection, because noticing what's already true for you is most of the work.

Real, intentional and dedicated time for ourselves and our loved ones together in community.

  • This is especially built for the long-term griever because I am one. You get to decide what is a long term griever!

    Years on, you forget things. Their voice, the exact sound of their laugh. But there's an intrinsic knowing of them that never leaves, and this programme is about resurfacing that. Sometimes even rewriting what your relationship with them looks like now, years later. That relationship doesn't stay fixed. It's allowed to change shape as you do with your grief.

    The disconnect I keep seeing in longer-term grievers: you perhaps don't need acute, day-to-day grief support anymore. That part, you've likely already learned to carry in your own way. What's the tricky part is something else entirely: how your bond with them strengthens or weakens depending on whether you have any tools, rituals, or conscious practices to return to. Put plainly: For me, I don't need people to ask how I'm doing in my grief frequently anymore. But my bond with my person is timeless, and it still needs care, love and attention -consciously and subconsciously- that I want to make room for in order to keep living with grief. To hold both my eternal sorrow for my loss and the unfolding joys of my life that persist in the face of grief.

    If it's been some time since you lost someone, and some part of you thinks you should be "over it" by now, that's exactly who this is for. Long-term grief care is genuinely missing from most grief spaces, and this programme exists to be the antidote to that gap. It won't rehash the basics or ask you to explain your grief from the beginning again. It meets you where you already are, and helps you keep flexing that muscle of staying connected, rather than letting it go slack.

    We also aim for this programme to be for every kind of relationship, not just the easygoing ones. A bond that had difficult seasons, or was even genuinely strained by the time they died. A relationship you weren't "officially" close to, or one that had already ended. If it mattered to you, however complicated, it counts here.

  • This work asks for a certain kind of acceptance. Not an acceptance that you're okay with your person having died, but that you're able to sit with practices like writing to them, reflecting on memories, or gently marking that they're gone, without it feeling re-traumatising. If even the idea of that feels too activating right now, this probably isn't the right time, and that's completely okay. That doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong, you’re listening to your capacity and that’s a good thing.

    This work also leans heavily on memory, so it may not be the right fit if you were bereaved very young and have limited memories of your person to draw from.

    If you've lost a child or a pregnancy, please get in touch before booking rather than deciding alone. Memory sits differently in this kind of loss, and I want to make sure this is genuinely right for you if you wish to join.

    Built for six months on from loss, at the earliest. Earlier than that, our membership's support groups and circles are built for more acute, day-to-day grief care. If you feel strongly you're ready sooner, get in touch and we'll arrange a short 1:1 first, rather than a flat no.

The essentials

8 places only, kept deliberately small.

For these first two cohorts and beyond, Grief Gang members pay £280, a rate that's yours for good, not just for launch. Open to all, member or not: an early-bird rate of £300 applies for a limited window after booking opens. Standard price resumes to £333 after first two cohorts.

A bursary place of £111 and a free place are also available, by emailing me directly to thegriefgang@gmail.com rather than through the booking page. No paperwork or proof of need required. If you're applying, I trust that it's because you genuinely need and want to be part of this experience. Cost shouldn't be the reason someone misses this.

Every place includes a free month of Grief Gang membership, redeemable during the programme or after it ends, plus a 45-minute 1:1 session with me to use whenever feels right, during the five weeks or afterward.

Flexible payment options available at booking.

  • Mondays, 28 Sept – 26 Oct 2026

    7-8:30pm BST/GMT (15minute buffer applied if we run over)

    Online, Zoom

  • Mondays, 16 Nov – 14 Dec 2026, 7-8:30pm BST/GMT. (15minute buffer applied if we run over)

    Online, Zoom

    Booking opens once Autumn is full, or Mon 28 Sept at the latest. If you know Winter is the one for you and want to secure your place early, get in touch directly at thegriefgang@gmail.com.

  • from Mon 11 Jan 2027, 7-8:30pm BST/GMT. Waitlist open in Winter.