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The 3 things you learn after your mother dies.

Love you, Mom. ❤️

Image from Pixabay.

I still miss her.


My mother died from ovarian cancer when I was a young child.

I'm in my late 30s now, and I'm still navigating this loss as I move through life. I've lived most of my life without my mother at this point, but I still miss her.

Here are three things I've learned since losing Mam:

1. Grief is not linear and is not solely expressed through tears.

Someone you love has been taken away from you, and your heart has broken into pieces. It's natural to grieve, but we all grieve differently. Grief shows up in anger, sorrow, guilt, fear, and sometimes peace. It is unpredictable and, at times, exhausting.

I cried when my mother died, and I cried at her funeral when my school choir sang "Be Not Afraid." I didn't cry much in the immediate years that followed — not directly as a result of Mam's death, but probably indirectly related to it. I certainly felt fear and anger and other emotions related directly to my loss.

Then sadness hit me like a ton of bricks one day when I was in my early 20s. A compassionate friend asked me about Mam, and as I hadn't spoken about her to anyone outside the family, I broke down. It was a good release. The years have brought many stages of grieving.

Mother's Day is never easy. Shopping for my wedding dress without my mother brought up intense feelings of loss. And sometimes it just hits me hard, on a regular day, yanking me out of my pleasant thoughts. A mother in a dressing room with her daughter, and they're trying on clothes together, admiring how the other looks. The mother telling the daughter how beautiful she is.

Or a friend of mine, meeting her mother for lunch and I can't even imagine what that would be like! I can't even fathom the amazing joy of having lunch right now with Mam! And then I get that heaviness in my chest and my stomach feels bad.

There's no closure. My grieving stems from having loved so deeply. I have learned to tune into the emotions I'm feeling and to acknowledge the love, the pain, and the loss.

2. There are no replacements.

Nobody can replace your mother. We love our mothers in our own individual ways. Our mothers care for us when we're sick, guide us in life the best ways they can, listen to us, and love us unconditionally.

For a mother, her child is always her first priority. And we sense this. We feel it. We know it, even if she doesn't say it.

moms, daughter, parents, motherhood, love

I was told that she called me her little angel.

Photo provided by author Carmel Breath.

My mother was beyond happy when I was born a healthy baby girl. I was told that she called me her little angel. She carried me in her womb for nine months.

By the time I was born, we had that unbreakable bond, and she knew me from that first second of my existence. There's never going to be a replacement for that person who loved me probably more than she loved herself. The joy in her eyes when she saw me, the warmth of her arms wrapped around me, the pain in her eyes when she had to say goodbye are all ways that I remember the deep love she had for me.

Mam prepared lunches for me every day to take to school, named muffins after me because they were my favorite, and surprised me with the best doll she could find when I was a few years old. She repaired my soft toys when they tore, taught me to have manners and sit up straight, wiped my eyes when I cried and my nose when I was sick.

Today I look for certain qualities in people. I look for a warmth, a radiance, a compassion and kindness that Mam had. I look for humor, a voice of sense, and strength of character. These are traits that my mother had. I find some of them in others.

But it's never the same. There'll never be another Mam. She's irreplaceable on so many levels.

3. There are other people who will love you and other people for you to love.

Family members and friends will love you. They might not know exactly what your needs are or how to address them, but it's worth reaching out to them. People struggle with different things.

Perhaps family members cannot love you or be there for you, and we may have to look around, let go, and reach further than we might want to in order to find the people who really love us, but there is someone out there to love you, and there's someone in need of your love.

I was blessed with the kindest, most devoted father who gave my brother and me all the love and care we needed. My dad is a gem in my life. He calls me to hear my news and to share his. He worries when I'm not feeling good and is overjoyed when I'm happiest. He listens to my concerns and trusts me to make the right decisions.

My dad has helped me so much in dealing with my loss, through caring for me and loving me unconditionally. I have the most wonderful fiancé who loves me to no end. And I've friends in my life who I know truly care about me.

I've been blessed with a lovely family, but it doesn't mean that I don't reach out to others. I've reconnected with old friends after years of distance. I've discovered things I have in common with others and opened up to new friendships.

Having people to love is truly healing. I was a kindergarten teacher for 10 years. I loved the children in my care, and they showed me so much love in return. By spreading love, we invite more love into our lives. Try volunteering or working in a school or a hospital. There are people everywhere in need of love.


Our world is so big and yet so small now in this age of technology. We can reach out to others across continents.

Our mothers were the first to show us the true meaning of love. In honor of our mothers, let's spread that love wherever we can.


This article originally appeared on 3.5.17

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5 things I didn't want to hear when I was grieving and 1 thing that helped

Here are my top five things not to say to a grieving parent — and the thing I love to hear instead.


In 2013, I found out I was pregnant with triplets.

Image via iStock.

My husband and I were in shock but thrilled at the news after dealing with infertility for years. And it didn't take long for the comments to begin. When people found out, the usual remarks followed: "Triplets?! What are you going to do? Three kids at once?! Glad it's not me!"

After mastering my response (and an evil look reserved for the rudest comments), I figured that was the worst of it. But little did I know I would be facing far worse comments after two of my triplets passed away.

On June 23, 2013, I gave birth to my triplets, more than four months premature.

My daughter, Abigail, passed away that same day; my son, Parker, died just shy of 2 months old. Before then, I didn't know much about child loss; it was uncharted territory. Like most people, I wouldn't know how to respond or what to say if a friend's child passed away.

Image via iStock.

But two years later, I have found that some things are better left unsaid. These comments come from a good place, and I know people mean well, but they sure do sting.

Here are my top five things not to say to a grieving parent — and the thing I love to hear instead.

1. "Everything happens for a reason."

It's a cringeworthy comment for those of us who have lost a child. Sometimes, there is no rhyme or reason for why things happen in life. A parent should not outlive their child. I don't know why my body couldn't handle my pregnancy or why I went into labor at 22 weeks.

This phrase goes along with another I often hear: "God only gives us what we can handle." I remember talking with my childhood rabbi the night before my son passed away, and I asked her, "Why me?" Her response is something I now live by every single day. She said, "God doesn't give us only what we can handle. He helps us handle what we've been given."

2. "They are in a better place."

Instead of comforting, this is a phrase that makes me feel down in the dumps. I longed to be a parent for so many years. And children are meant to be in the loving arms of their parents.

I think I speak for every grieving mother and father when I say, we would give anything to hold our babies again.

3. "At least you have one survivor. Count your blessings."

I like to think of myself as a positive person. But even two years later, my heart still aches for Parker and Abby. And on the most difficult, dark days of grief, it's hard to "count my blessings."

Yes, I am blessed. I have a gorgeous miracle child who is the light of my life. But Peyton should be playing with her brother and sister in our home, not just waving to their pictures and blowing kisses to heaven.

4. "You are still young. You can have more children."

It doesn't matter whether or not our biological clock is ticking. Many people have no idea what couples go through to have a child: Some can't have children of their own; others may face years of infertility or miscarriages. And for people like me, trying for more children may be something too scary to even think about. I came close to death after delivering my children — that's enough to scar me for life.

5. "I don't know how you do it. I couldn't imagine losing two children."

Some days I don't know how I do it either. But we learn how to live with it. We learn a "new normal," and in those tough moments, we celebrate that we survived the day. This comment is a difficult reminder of our grief and the children who were sent to heaven.

So, what should you say to a grieving parent?

Image via iStock.

There are no words to take the pain away, of course, but simply letting that person know you are there for them is more than enough.

For me, the best thing someone can do is to talk about my angels. Say Parker and Abby by name, and don't be afraid to ask questions about them.

While they were only here for a short time, they left a huge imprint on this world. I love talking about my angels, and simply hearing someone else mention them by name is enough to wipe away the grief and warm my heart for days.


This article was written by Stacey Skrysak and originally appeared on 7.15.16

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Jennifer Garner announces the death of her father with heartfelt tribute and family photos

"Today is for gratitude."

iSpotTV

Jennifer Garner ad father William John Garner starring in a Capital One commercial.

Grief and gratitude might seem to be in opposition to the other, but in times of loss, they both work in tandem to help us process our pain. As the “Ten Percent Happier” blog eloquently puts it, “grief embodies our humanity even as gratitude allows us to embrace pain and hardship.”

Actress Jennifer Garner recently gave a poignant example of this.

On April 1, the “Alias” star took to her Instagram page to share the news that her father, William John Garner, died “peacefully” in the afternoon on March 30.

Though her tribute expressed the loss she felt, it made plenty of space for humor and appreciation for the precious memories she got to create with her “kind and brilliant” dad.

Garner began her caption with a joke, saying, “We were with him, singing ‘Amazing Grace’ as he left us. Did we carry him across or scare him away — valid question.”

The lighthearted moment was followed by a nugget of heartfelt truth. “While there is no tragedy in the death of an 85-year-old man who lived a healthy, wonderful life, I know grief is unavoidable, waiting around unexpected corners.”

Still, Garner noted that “Today is for gratitude,” reminiscing her late father’s “gentle demeanor and quiet strength” his “mischievous smile,” and “for the way he invented the role of all in, ever patient girl dad.”

She then sent thank-you's to the medical staff that helped him during his final chapter, helping him get a few more days to spend with his grandchildren.

“There is so much to say about my dad— my sisters and I will never be done talking about how wonderful he was, so bear with us,” she concluded. “But for today, I share these memories with my appreciation for the kind and brilliant man, father, and grandfather he was, as well as the loving legacy he left behind.”

Along with the tribute, Garner shared a carousel of images of her dad, including a clip of their iconic Capital One commercial spot, where her father got to deliver the famous “What’s in your wallet?” tagline.

Garner aimed to honor her father in her tribute, and she succeeded.

“My heart aches a little because you lost someone so incredibly special, but also celebrates the comfort you must have in knowing what a precious and wonderful human being he was here on Earth. I am now singing to him as well!” one person wrote.

Another added, “What an amazing father and beautiful example.”

It prompted a few to reflect on their own relationships with their father.

“Dads are so precious. Sorry for your loss.”

“A father daughter bond is like no other — I’m so very sorry — sending love and prayers for your family.”

“What a lovely face he had! A wonderful father is a tough thing to beat. I had one too and know in my bones how lucky I was — how lucky you were— thinking of you and sending buckets of love.”

Part of being human means eventually losing everyone we love. We can choose to focus solely on mourning. We can also choose to try to bury the pain. But neither of those options helps us fully experience our own humanity. The hidden opportunity of grief is to feel gratitude at a profound level, as if to say “I am now more fully aware of how precious our time together was, now that it is no longer here.” May we all have the grace to embrace both sides when the time comes.

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Widow defends woman who filmed herself picking up her husband's ashes and grieving

"I wish I had any video evidence of how this felt… Grief needs a witness."

Photo by Fa Barboza on Unsplash, Nora McInerny/Facebook (used with permission)

Nora McInerny explains why someone would make their grief public.

There are basically two universal truths about grieving a loved one. One, there is no "normal" way to grieve—it's entirely individual. And two, no one should judge another person's grief process.

A video of a woman picking up her husband's ashes started an important conversation about what grief looks like and why someone would choose to share such a personal moment with the world.

Adriana Sansam's husband, Eric, died unexpectedly in the spring of 2023 at age 30, turning the beautiful life they were building with their three small children upside down. Since Eric's death, Sansam has been sharing snippets of her grieving process on her Instagram page, and one of those snippets was a video of her in her car before and after picking up Eric's ashes. We see her break down before she leaves the car and again after she returns and cradles the urn that holds her husband's remains.

Some people questioned and even criticized Sansam for filming and sharing those moments, which prompted grief advocate Nora McInerny to post a video response in her defense.

McInerny, whose husband died in 2014, has given a Ted Talk on grief, has written multiple books on the topic and is the host of the award-winning podcast "Terrible, Thanks for Asking" and the daily podcast "It's Going To Be Okay." In other words, she''s well-versed in the grieving process.

In the caption of her response, McInerny wrote:

"You don't have to grieve publicly, but I'll personally fight anyone who wants to judge people who *do* put it out there. Consider it a public service for those who haven't walked that path yet; our culture is so grief-averse that we are rarely forced to see someone else's pain and anguish. You don't have to like it, but you *also* don't have to comment on it."

In the video, she explains why someone might choose to film an intense grieving moment.

"I wish I had any video evidence of how this felt," she said. "Grief is so disorienting. It feels like you made it up. And grief needs a witness. And you know what? Consider yourself lucky if you don't know why she would film it. But she's filming it for you. She's filming it so that if you find yourself in this unfortunate position or know someone who does, you know what grief actually looks like."

McInerny is right. We don't see grief very often in our society, and it's even more rare that we see it being experienced and expressed publicly. People usually do their intense grieving in private, either because that's what they feel most comfortable with or because that's what other people feel most comfortable with.

But grieving isn't comfortable. It's messy and intense and unpredictable. It has no set trajectory and no timeline. And if we never see grief in all its raw, real glory, we might feel like something's wrong with us if (or when) we go through a tragic loss ourselves.

Those commenting negatively may have learned something if they'd simply read some of the other comments on Sansam's video. Person after person shared their stories of understanding and solidarity as well as their gratitude to Sansam for showing what she was experiencing:

"❤️😢 Some people may think it's strange to post about grief, but honestly I appreciate every single account I come across 😢 and send love and healing energy to everyone who understands the loss of a loved one. 🙏🏽"

"You know that hug-the-vase thing? Yes, that’s real, because that’s the closest we’ll ever get to hugging them again. I hugged my father’s urn every chance I could, knowing I can’t hug him again til the next life. 🙏🏼 Hug your loved ones if you still get a chance, but that hug then breaking down while doing it. Thats as real as it gets. 💙 Stay strong, praying for you. 🙏🏼"

"I’m so sorry… My daughter Azalea passed away in December and picking up her ashes was one of the hardest days of my life. It made her death feel so final. 💔"

"So sorry for your loss! I lost my wife in December. She was only 47. I also lost my son in June who was only 12. Know you’re not alone. Lean on friends, lean on family. Most important, talk to him every day. Ask him for signs to help ease the pain. He will come through for you. Love lasts forever! 🙏🏻❤️"

"I lost my husband young… it’s a painful thing to live with❤️❤️what I can tell you is that the pain and grief will become less consuming. You can do this…."

"I wept at this video for you and for my 42 year old self that had to do the same thing. I remember going by myself to pick them up and just breaking down in the car. I’m so so sorry you went through this at such a young age! Hugs, my widow sister." ❤️

"I picked my Mom up in January. I drove the roads we knew so well through San Diego and talked to her about the memories in each area. I think I just kept talking because I would have lost my mind thinking about the reality of what I was doing. Thank you for sharing such a vulnerable moment. May he rest in peace."

The bottom line is if we haven't been through it ourselves, we have no right to judge. And even if we have experienced something similar, everyone's process is different and what seems weird to one person might be normal or necessary for another, so we still shouldn't judge.

Thank you, Nora McInerny, for the important reminder.

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