On the anniversary of my grandfather’s death, I called my Mom to ask how she was. She said, “People don’t really mention my parents to me anymore. Maybe they are afraid it would make me sad, but I’m already thinking about them all the time.” I began to reflect on the loneliness of grief and how layered the pain can feel when we have no means of sharing it. Shortly after, I came across the ancient practice of observing All Saints Day—a day to honor all holy people who lived faithful lives in Christ. Not martyrs, but those saintly, hidden lives known only to God.

My family and I joined Monroe Organic Farms’ CSA this past year. Each week, Monroe would drop off a handful of shares at a neighbor’s home, and everyone would come by to pick up their vegetables. Along with getting big bags of beautiful produce each week, I got to know the Monroe family more deeply, along with Mary Ann, my neighbor, who sat in her garage for two hours every week distributing the farm shares.

Englewood Grand, selected by Westword as one of “The 100 Bars We Can’t Live Without”, began hosting “Thankful Thursdays”. The invitation was to write a note of encouragement. They would provide the stationery and postage, and serve a great cocktail.