Telling the Bees: Ancient Wisdom for Modern Grief

Reminders that grief doesn't end, but rather transforms.

*Quote from Emergence Magazine

In the quiet corners of our grief, sometimes the most profound comfort comes from unexpected places. Emily Polk's poignant observation that "We are all just trying to survive. We are not done yet" resonates deeply with many in our widow community. Today, we explore an ancient practice that speaks to this resilience – the tradition of "telling the bees."

The Sacred Messengers

For centuries across cultures, bees have held a special place in the human experience of loss. These remarkable creatures – called "sacred tears of God" by some and "emissaries for the ancestors" by others – have been viewed as bridges between our world and what lies beyond.

The ritual is beautifully simple: when death visits a household, someone must go to the beehives and whisper the news, often while draping the hives in black mourning cloth. The bees must be informed of who has died, when the funeral will take place, and sometimes even who will care for them now. If neglected, tradition holds that the bees may stop producing honey, abandon their home, or even die in sympathy.

This practice, documented across Europe and early America, reveals something profound about grief – the need to acknowledge our losses openly, to speak them aloud, and to recognize how death ripples through every aspect of our lives.

Photo credit: Spikenard Honeybee Sanctuary

Finding My Way to the Hives

I never imagined myself as someone who would talk to bees. Two years after losing Chad, I found myself on the way to my sister's rural home, and discovered this practice while a neighbor shared it with me. I stood at the three white hives at the edge of their property. Something about their quiet humming drew me closer.

"They're good listeners," my friend said, noticing my interest. "Some people around here still tell them important news."

That evening, as the sun set, I found myself standing before the hives. The steady buzz created a private space somehow, a cocoon of sound where words might be safely released.

"My husband died," I whispered to the nearest hive. "His name was Chad."

The words hung in the air, simple and true. I hadn't expected the relief that followed – not from any mystical belief that the bees would carry messages to him, but from the pure act of speaking aloud to living creatures who simply continued their work, uninterrupted by my pain.

The Wisdom in Ancient Practices

What can this old tradition teach us in our modern experience of widowhood?

Perhaps it's that grief needs witnesses. The bees serve as neutral observers who neither judge our emotions nor try to fix our pain. They simply hear us, their gentle hum a reminder that life continues its essential work even as we mourn.

Or maybe it's about maintaining connection to the natural rhythms that continue regardless of our personal losses. The bees, with their structured society and purposeful work, remind us that there is order in the world even when our personal lives feel chaotic.

Most powerfully, telling the bees acknowledges that loss changes everything – not just our hearts, but our homes, our communities, our futures. The tradition recognizes that death creates a ripple effect that touches all aspects of life, even reaching the garden hives.

Creating Our Modern Rituals

While few of us keep beehives today, we can find inspiration in this gentle tradition by creating our own rituals of acknowledgment: