One afternoon when I was especially missing my son Daniel, I got to thinking about ways in which we heal from our loss. As we acknowledge that we are grieving, we are able to do something tangible to help us remember those we love, those who are no longer with us, as well as assist in our healing.

I love to cook, so naturally, my thoughts strayed toward making something yummy to eat and since we are in the winter months, hot bread came to mind. As I made the loaf of bread, I christened it Bereavement Bread and recognized its therapeutic benefits. I'd like to share these with you.

The first step in making bereavement bread is to allow for plenty of time. Do not rush. Pick a Saturday or Sunday afternoon.

Heat 1 cup of milk to a simmer and then add 3 tablespoons of butter in small pieces to the milk. Add two tablespoons of sugar or honey and two teaspoons of salt. Stir until they dissolve. Let cool to 110 degrees.

Pour the milk and yeast mixtures into a large bowl and add enough flour to form a dough -- about 4 cups.

Sprinkle some flour on the counter top so that the dough won't stick to the counter or to your hands.

Then knead the dough. Pound the dough and add more flour if it is still too sticky. Keep kneading, forcing out bits of the frustration and some of the sorrow your heart holds from missing your loved one. Pound out the anger you may feel at those who have not been as sensitive or kind to you since the death of your dear one.

As you knead the dough, shape it into a heart and then check to see if little bubbles appear under the surface. Continue to pound it until the dough is smooth and firm, no longer sticking to anything. Work your fingers and upper arms into the dough until at last, the dough springs back on itself, expanding when pressure is applied and bouncing back when the pressure is released.

Place the dough in a greased bowl, cover it with a favorite kitchen towel and let it rise in a warm place for about 2 hours or doubled in size.

Use this time to think about the warmth there was in having and holding your loved one. Recall a spring picnic, a day at the zoo, the ocean's waves, the afternoon drive together. Smile as you view a family photo album or sing a song your loved one enjoyed. Use this waiting time to write in your journal, read a book on grief, or paint with watercolors. Perhaps someone stands out in your mind - a person who has been helpful to you on this journey. Write a card to that person.

Also as the dough rises, let your creativity rise as you plan ways to honor the memory of your loved one.

Under the Expanded Sky

Educating Merna

Crying With My Ancestors

Opening Grief as a Gift

Living Life from the Graveyard

Surviving the Tinsel

Trees of the Ice Storm

Is There Laughter After Death?

Whatever Happened to the Old?

Out of My Comfort Zone

I Am Not Cheese

As The Sixth Year Approaches

The Dirty Green Van

Judging Pain?

Grief Meets the Answering Machine

Closets, Revisited

Unwinding with a Pen

There is Nothing Wrong with You!

Scared to Death of Dying and Denying Grief

The Night the Christmas Tree Fell

For the Love of Mothers

Bereaved Eyes

A Wealthy Life

The Power of Photographs

Fragrance of Marigolds

When the dough has doubled in size, punch it down with your fist. This is necessary to release the gases. Punch away your guilt. Punch away the misconception you had of being in control.

Next divide the dough in half. Knead each one for 5 minutes. Shape the dough into two loaves to fit 9 x 5 x 3-inch buttered loaf pans sprinkled with flour.

Cover the dough and let it rise for one more hour. Preheat your oven to 375 degrees F. during the last few minutes of this hour.

You may choose to add an egg yolk-milk glaze to brush on the top of each loaf. Mix 1 egg yolk with 1 tablespoon of milk.

Then bake the loaves for 45 minutes.

Enjoy the aroma as it fills your kitchen.

Serve slices of bread hot with butter and pour a cup of comfort tea. Invite another aching heart to share this time with you. Together, the two of you can shut out the rest of the world for a while, sit, eat, share, cry, and console each other. You can gain strength for facing tomorrow.

When tomorrow comes and no one seems to understand the depth of your sorrow, recall the bread, the way it warmed your heart and nourished your body. Picture your equally-grieving friend, feel her tears once again, and remember that you are not alone.

The lesson of bereavement bread was stated so well by Thomas Jefferson. "Who, then, can so softly bind up the wound of another, as he, who has felt the same wound himself."