When someone you love has experienced the loss of a child, it’s hard on everyone. They are engulfed in a sea of unbearable pain and grief and sorrow while you may be struggling to stand beside them, wondering what to say, what to do, and
My friends, I am tired. I’ve been wrestling lately with my writing. I struggle with sharing the brutal honesty of what it’s like to live with this grief after the loss of a partner and children. Generally speaking, people don’t like the brutal honesty of
*heads up to my invisible mamas: there is talk of a living child in this video. The latest “Voices of Loss” video with Amelia Kowalisyn of Emma’s Footprints and On Coming Alive! You can find more info on Amelia’s story and work on the links
December might be my very least favorite month. Every where I turn it feels like reminders of the ones I’ve lost are shoved so aggressively and continuously in my face, ripping open scars on my heart. The holidays. A time when the world wants to
Since the death of my fiancé and my daughters, grief has become part of who I am. Grief is as much a part of me as my red curly hair, blue eyes, and freckled skin. It lingers in the sound of my voice and the
Let’s be honest. Loving someone who is grieving isn’t always easy. It’s hard to see people we love be in pain and not be able to do anything about it. We want them to feel better, to smile, to laugh, and to be okay again.
I don’t talk much about how much I miss my daughters or my grief for their loss outside of the grief and baby loss communities I am involved in. I tell myself I’m protecting my family and friends from my pain and my grief. That’s
It amazes me sometimes how many poems and songs about loss and death and grief tell us “don’t cry for me” or “don’t grieve for me” or “don’t weep.” The premise is usually that it’s a poem or song from the point of view of
I used to whisper her name to myself over and over again. “Grace. Grace. My Grace. Grace.” Her name was a lifeline that I desperately clung to through the waves of grief and pain and rage and sorrow that swamped me. Her name was my manta.