Jane Munk died suddenly in November 2024. Now, a couple weeks before that anniversary, some friends of Jane came to this nature center for a hike in the woods, for story-telling, for food.

A couple dozen people stood around a couple tables in the conference room.

“Jane curated this gathering,” Jason said. “Even though she’s not here, she connected with each of us. And that’s why we’re here.”

My first awareness of Jane came when I was invited to talk about quietness. Or stillness. Or something close. A coworker was on the board of an organization that sponsored grief retreats for adults. This would be for a men’s retreat. I was scheduled for the afternoon of my first marathon, but it was too good of an opportunity.

I learned that the retreats were the mission of a small non-profit that Jane had created as one response to the grief that lingered years after the sudden death of her husband.

That happens all the time.

Following the death of a loved one, part of our response is to make meaning.  Sometimes, it’s to tell a story, and we have memoirs. Sometimes it’s to raise money to find a cure. Sometimes it’s to help with grief support, or grief awareness.

And Jane started Kerith Brook. It aligned with her skills and experience. She was an event planner. She was a counselor. She understood the value of space and quiet and understanding. She understood bringing people together in a space where they don’t have to explain their tears or justify their pain.

The number of people who attended the retreats during the decade they happened wasn’t large. Their grief was, and so was their relief. And so was their gratitude to Jane.

We walked in the woods. We stood quietly. And found unexpected connections in the conversations that followed.

Which was exactly what Jane would have hoped for.