A Resting Place: Where Grief, Culture, and Community Meet with Derek Dizon
- Judy Lee
- 2 hours ago
- 4 min read
In the heart of Seattle’s Chinatown–International District, A Resting Place offers something rare—a culturally rooted sanctuary for grief. Founded by community organizer and grief worker Derek Dizon, the center serves as a “grief and loss cultural resource center,” a place where people can connect with others, honor their ancestors, and themselves.
For Derek, grief is inseparable from identity. “When we experience loss, whether it’s the death of a loved one, the displacement of a homeland, or even a missed opportunity, our identity shifts,” he explains. “A Resting Place is an opportunity for people to find themselves in the midst of loss and transition.”
Unlike traditional support centers, A Resting Place is intentionally multicultural. Grief is not treated as a universal, one-size-fits-all experience but as something deeply shaped by culture. Derek describes a “symbiotic relationship” between grief and culture with each informing, challenging, and transforming the other.
This perspective stands in stark contrast to the dominant grief culture in the United States, where bereavement is constrained by rigid timelines and productivity expectations. “You get your bereavement time, and then after that, you’ve got to go back to work…I think when we jump into our capitalist, productive grind culture, we are leaving ourselves behind,” Derek says. “But our grieving doesn’t stop. When people step into A Resting Place, time feels different [because] you are intentionally bringing grief in your life in a way that honors who you are and where you are in the moment.”
Creating such a space wasn’t only an act of service, it was deeply personal. “I needed a place to feel like I could grieve,” Derek shares, “a place to honor my ancestors, honor my mother, to honor my friends who have died…Being here is my own practice of grief.”
The roots of Derek’s grief work trace back to a profound loss at five years old. Derek’s mother Phoebe, alongside her friend Veronica, had been supporting their Filipina friend Susana who was being violently abused by her husband. All three were fatally shot by the estranged husband during annulment proceedings at Seattle’s King County Superior Court.
During this time, culturally specific services for immigrant women were scarce. In response, Asian women organizers founded what would eventually become API Chaya, now a cornerstone organization supporting survivors of domestic violence, sexual assault, and human trafficking. Each year, they hold a vigil honoring Susanna, Phoebe, and Veronica, a vigil Derek would later help organize.
“I grew up hearing about my mother through everyone else,” he says. “But no one talked to me about murder, violence, or grief. A part of her, and a part of myself, was missing.” That missing piece is what eventually led him into grief work at the intersections of community organizing, identity, and healing.
The holiday season brings layered emotions for Derek, whose mother adored Christmas. “My house growing up was decorated from floor to ceiling,” he recalls. “She loved Christmas, loved celebrating.” But without his mother, and after his father sold his childhood home last year, the holidays now stir deep sadness and nostalgia.
Derek speaks candidly about allowing grief to surface, “When the world is in this hyper-jolly mode, feeling sadness can be disorienting. Giving ourselves permission to feel instead of comparing ourselves to everyone else is essential.” He encourages others to ask: What do I need? How can I honor myself during this time? Whether it’s time to cry, call a friend, or create new rituals, Derek sees it as a form of gifting ourselves care.
Derek’s Filipino cultural roots shape the hospitality and generosity embedded in A Resting Place. “Filipinos are known for bringing people together,” he explains. “At A Resting Place, I welcome people grounded in my own cultural practice, while creating space for them to bring their own culture into their grief.”
This openness is visible on the shelves filled with pictures of loved ones and on the Wall of Love and Memory, where letters to loved ones appear sometimes in languages other than English. For many visitors, simply seeing grief written in their mother tongue is profound. “When our grief is written in a language that isn’t English, it hits differently,” Derek says. “It reminds people they’re not alone.” A Resting Place also houses a library where people can sit and read books about grief, as well as community events to help people process their feelings.
Ultimately, A Resting Place is more than a physical site, it is a communal act of care. Every person who walks through the door shapes the space with their stories, languages, rituals, and grief.
“Our interconnections, our community, are what keep us safe,” Derek says. “Grief isn’t something we survive alone. We survive through friendship, through culture, through each other.” At A Resting Place, grief is not rushed, hidden, or pathologized. It is honored. It is witnessed. It is shared. And for many, just as it is for Derek, it becomes a path back to themselves.
A Resting Place began as a labor of love and was sustained through GoFundMe and out of Derek’s own pocket during its first year. Now in its second year, the center is fiscally sponsored.
They are currently running a fundraiser through December 31st in the hopes to fund essentials such as rent, programming, supplies, and stipends, tea, snacks, printed resources, etc.—everything that makes the space feel welcoming. Consider donating to help them reach their goal of $8,00 before the end of the year at their fiscal sponsor Shunpike. Donations are tax deductible.
