August 30, 2025
How can it possibly be one year without you? It still doesn’t feel real, and I don’t think it ever will. I miss & love you more than words could ever convey, Mom.
This past year, I’ve realized how little we actually talk about grief.
In the beginning, there are calls, messages, check-ins. People acknowledge the sadness and the loss. But as time passes, those reminders slow down. Life goes back to “normal” for everyone else - while for the griever, it never really does.
Grief doesn’t shrink or get easier with time. Instead, it becomes something you carry, like a shadow that others can’t see. “Normal” doesn’t exist in the same way anymore - you just learn how to keep moving with the weight of it.
There’s guilt in living fully, in laughing, in finding joy when such an important person is gone. People often say, “they’d want you to be happy.” And maybe that’s true - but it doesn’t change how complicated it feels. The smallest comments, the reminders, the milestones you’ll never get to share— they all sit alongside every moment of happiness.
Grief is not just the day of loss. It’s all the days that follow, the future moments that never arrive, the invisible heaviness that doesn’t go away. And maybe if we talked about it more, those carrying it wouldn’t feel so unseen. Sometimes it feels like there’s an unspoken rule: don’t mention them, don’t bring it up - the elephant in the room. But the truth is, talking about them can feel really good. Grievers actually want to share stories, laugh at memories, cry a little, and feel their presence in conversation. Bringing them into the moment doesn’t make it heavier - it makes it lighter.
The love never leaves. She’s in the quiet moments, the laughter, the tears—always.
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