I’ve become really good at saying goodbye.

Throughout my life, I’ve faced many farewells. As a child, I moved frequently. Just as I’d settle into a new home, make new friends, and get used to new surroundings, it was time to say goodbye again. Each move was painful, filled with sadness and despair. I had to accept this. However, as I grew older, I developed more resources to cope. When my father, grandmother, and eventually my mother passed away, I had a little soul bag of tools and memories that helped me navigate through each stage, always finding something to help me move forward.

Why do I need grief counseling now, of all things?

Because my life has always been rich and vibrant, even during the tough times.

My journey began in South Africa with a Bavarian mother and a North German father, leading me across three continents and finally to Berlin. Along the way, I studied African Studies, worked as an editor and dispatcher for television, assisted a Humboldt professor, and supported little patients in a pediatric cardiology practice. Now, I have two grown-up children, I’m a non-medical practitioner for psychotherapy, a touch therapist, and together with my husband, I run a culturally oriented event agency.

Throughout these experiences, I’ve made many friends and been a companion to others. I’ve realized how challenging it is for people to deal with grief, both their own and others’. It’s incredibly hard: those who are grieving don’t want to burden others, and their loved ones often don’t know how to help.

That’s why I became a grief counselor. I’m good at navigating grief and creating spaces where it can be expressed and felt. I help mourners design their grieving process in a way that lets them move through it at their own pace, with their memories and emotions. Grief is a constant presence. Everyone who grieves knows this deeply, yet society struggles to accept its many forms and intensities. People often wish for a quick return to “normal,” overlooking that grieving after a loss is the new normal.

Grief doesn’t just disappear; it becomes a part of us. I believe it needs its own space. If you’re searching for understanding and need a companion on this journey, let’s talk.