The Root of Healing Blog

Networking

Mon, 20 Apr 2026 14:53:26 GMT

My son is a powerlifter. My daughter is a scientist. We travel around the country chasing their

dreams.

Without fail, precious, kindred souls are placed directly in our path. Conversations are started,

common ground is established, then we realize another commonality: the murder of a loved

one.

Quietly, we find a place to sit and unpack and share our stories. Contact information is shared

along with tears and hugs.

We find comfort in total strangers who have experienced similar horrors and debilitating grief.

There is zero coincidence in these meetings. It’s a feeling, intuition, vulnerability that pulls like a

magnet.

Every encounter brings peace and comfort. We call it ‘networking’. Some of these strangers

have become ‘framily’ (friends who are family). We call and text one another on anniversaries

and birthdays, and are present to listen when no one else truly understands the grief and pain.

I am forever grateful.

-Claire Cunningham

The Grief No One Prepares You For

Tue, 14 Apr 2026 12:57:58 GMT

There are parts of grief we expect, at least as much as we can expect something so life-altering.

But there are parts no one really talks about.

The part I wasn’t prepared for is this: losing one parent, and then watching the other slowly decline as I continue to age.

This year, my mom has had some physical issues and mental changes, too. It’s the subtle shifts. The moments where things feel different. The realizations that things are not what they once were.

That kind of grief is layered.

It’s not just about loss, it’s about anticipatory loss.

It’s loving someone while also grieving what’s changing right in front of you.

It’s holding memories of who they’ve been, while trying to stay present with who they are now.

And if I’m honest, it’s heavy. Yet there is gratitude because she is here while my dad is not.

After all, underneath it all is this quiet awareness: as I get older, she is who we have left.

That thought doesn’t always come loudly. Sometimes it just sits in the background. Other times, it hits all at once.

If you’re walking through something similar, this kind of grief can feel isolating because it’s not always visible to others, and we don’t have to carry it alone.

Hope is Here

Mon, 30 Mar 2026 13:06:22 GMT

Easter is a season that speaks of hope, renewal, and life after death. But for mothers who have lost a child to murder, these words can feel distant, almost impossible to reach. How can anything feel hopeful when your world has been shattered? For most, hope can feel like something meant for other people.

And yet… even here, hope can still exist.

Not the kind of hope that rushes healing or erases pain. Not the kind that asks you to “move on” or pretend everything is okay. But a quieter, deeper hope, the kind of hope that gently sits beside your grief and whispers, you are not alone.

Grief after homicide is complex. It is the most complicated grief I have experienced and counseled others through. It carries layers of trauma , unanswered questions , and a deep sense of injustice .

It is important we remember, as mothers, that your love didn’t end when your child’s life was taken. The love you feel is still alive, strong, present, DEEP , and aching . And that love is not something to be fixed. It is something to be honored (valued).

Easter reminds us that even after the darkest day, something new can emerge. Not the same life. Not the same joy. But a different kind of living; a way of carrying both sorrow and meaning at the same time.

Hope might look like:

Getting out of bed on a day that feels heavy

Saying your child’s name out loud

Allowing yourself to feel, even when it hurts

Connecting with another mom who understands (community)

Hope is not loud. It doesn’t force itself. It often shows up quietly, in small moments that remind you that your story is still unfolding. As we know, holidays can amplify absence . They can highlight the empty chair, the missing voice, the life that should still be here. And also, with allowance, if we look, we may be able to see even the smallest glimpse of light.

Because hope, like Easter, doesn’t deny the pain of what came before. It simply reminds us that pain is not the end of the story.

You are carrying the unimaginable.

 Carry it with HOPE AND LOVE.

Voicemails

Mon, 23 Mar 2026 12:27:36 GMT

I was scrolling on social media recently and came across a deeply emotional video. Like so many others, this man lost his sister on 9/11, and the pain is still very real for him. In the video, he stepped into a phone booth and was invited to leave her a voicemail. It struck me how powerful it is to speak to our loved ones, even after they’re gone.

I truly believe that writing to them or talking to them is one of the most meaningful ways we can move through grief. If you’ve ever worked with me, or even just met me, you know this is at the heart of how I approach counseling: we go toward the emotion, toward the healing.

I decided to write my own “voicemail" below, and I want to encourage you to try it too. It’s private, it’s powerful, it’s hard, and above all, it’s loving.

Grief is love. And continuing to include our loved ones in that love is one of the most beautiful things we can do. It’s all for them. ��

Hey Dad,

It's been 17 years since I ever called you, heard your voice, your laugh, or touched you. You were always a part of my days. My routine was changed forever. I often think of you. You have a granddaughter now. Yep, Paul reproduced. She is hilarious and beautiful. She's almost 15. So much has happened since you have been gone. Our family was never the same, and we all recovered differently. I went back to school (again) and I also help people for a living now. Who knew lol. I remember always wondering who I would be. One thing you always taught us was to work hard, and structure is important. Dad, not a day goes by that I don't wish you were here. We could watch movies, go to markets, and I miss you telling me all you got at Walmart. You were such a significant part of our lives that it feels like a distant memory now. I wish I could remember parts of you that are now gone. I know you more now, though. I learned so much about you after your death. I am thankful, because I love you more because of it all. I will always live to honor your life, Dad. You deserve to be remembered with LOVE and not violence. I choose your life and legacy over whatever happened on that terrible night. I love you, and I miss you every moment.

Love always, your little Coos-Coos princess.

Advocacy

Mon, 16 Mar 2026 13:31:22 GMT

Two decades have passed since February 25, 2006. So Luc, yet so little has transpired since that dreadful day. Time has slowed, yet time has sped by.

I wanted everyone in the world to search for Toby’s murderer. My expectations were such that I assumed everyone was as highly motivated and ready to fight with the same vigor and passion that fueled my soul.

The police didn’t seem to be advocating for Toby. The media slowly lost interest. Toby’s story faded to background.

I felt defeated and crushed by the ominous weight of ‘fighting’ alone. Until I was introduced to an incredible group of survivors and advocates who wanted to walk with me. They lifted me upon their shoulders giving me the strength, courage, and platform to share Toby’s story far and wide. These earth angels have advocated for our family in every way possible.

These advocates have held my hand and navigated the maze of media campaigns, interviews,

online vigils, posters, podcasts, and conventions.

I am forever grateful for their compassion, integrity, wisdom, creativity, and insight. They have kept Toby’s story alive.

My heart is full. These advocates continue to show up and support our family in this relentless fight for justice.

I am eternally grateful for their grit, tenacity, and perseverance.

-Claire Cunningham

Holes

Mon, 09 Mar 2026 16:56:37 GMT

"It is easier to bury something than it is to dig it up."

This was my thought as I watched a hole be dug for my precious Sunni girl. Today, we buried my beautiful cat unexpectedly. As I watched the hole in the ground be prepared for her, the amount of work it took to dig up the hardened ground was rough. Then, when she was placed in the hole, packing in the dirt on her was easier, less strenuous, and faster.

We always take this route with pain, I think. Right?

Digging into grief is hard work. It requires effort, patience, and a willingness to face the hardened places in our hearts. It is uncomfortable, messy, and slow. But covering it up is easy.

We can pack the dirt down quickly, stay busy, distract ourselves, tell ourselves we are fine, and move on before our hearts are ready. Yet what’s buried too quickly doesn’t disappear; it just waits underneath the surface.

Healing asks something different of us. It may ask us to do the harder work first, to sit with the loss, to honor the love that was there, and to let our hearts soften instead of harden.

Grief is proof that love existed. And love, even when it hurts, is still something sacred.

So if your heart feels like hard ground today, take your time.

Healing doesn’t rush. And neither does love.

The Myth of “I’ve Got This”

Mon, 02 Mar 2026 14:38:44 GMT

I am very good at being independent.

I pay the bills.

I show up to the meetings.

I hold the house together with calendars and grit and caffeine and sheer willpower.

I am the strong one. The capable one. The one who “has it handled.”

Everything is good.

Everything is okay.

Until it’s not.

Until it’s 2:17 a.m. and the full moon is lighting up the room like a spotlight and my toddler throws up in my bed.

Not on the floor.

Not in the bathroom.

In my bed.

And suddenly the capable woman disappears and I am just a tired mother in the dark with no clean towels.

No backup plan.

No extra set of hands.

Just the smell of sickness, a crying baby, and that sharp stab of panic when you realize you are the only adult in the room.

I whisper, “It’s okay, it’s okay,” like I know what I’m doing.

I strip the sheets. I wipe the little face. I dig through the house praying something — anything — is clean enough to use.

And in the middle of the night, I do something I hate doing.

I beg for help.

Not loudly.

Not dramatically.

Just quietly. Desperately.

“Please, God. Please let this pass. Please let them be okay. Please help me.”

Because when you are the strong one, begging feels like failure.

But sometimes independence is just isolation wearing a superhero cape.

And then my son presses so close I can’t move. His fever-warm body curls into my side like he’s trying to climb back inside me.

He needs me.

He needs my steady breathing.

My hands in his hair.

My whispered reassurances.

And I give it.

Even though my heart hurts.

Even though I’m exhausted.

Even though I feel like I am five seconds from falling apart.

He needs to be held.

And here is the part no one talks about:

While I am holding my children, I am longing to be held by my mother.

I want her hands.

Her voice in the dark.

Her “I’ve got you.”

But she isn’t coming.

She will never come again.

And grief doesn’t politely step aside just because your kids are throwing up.

Grief sits on the edge of the bed with you.

It watches you, mother without a blueprint.

It watches you try to give comfort you were never fully shown.

It watches you become the soft place to land when you still feel like you’re falling.

There is a specific kind of heartbreak that comes from realizing you are now the oldest branch in your direction of the family tree.

There is no one above you to call in the middle of the night and say, “What do I do?”

There is no one coming to take over.

You are the mother.

Even when you still feel like someone’s daughter.

Especially when you still feel like someone’s daughter.

And this is the cruel math of grief:

You have to give the love you miss.

You have to become the comfort you crave.

You have to create safety you never fully felt.

And you have to do it while you are tired.

While you are unsure.

While you are still healing.

You have to make something you have no idea how to make.

Security.

Warmth.

Home.

I don’t always know how.

Sometimes I just stay still and let my sick child breathe against my chest.

Sometimes I hum something soft.

Sometimes I whisper, “Mama’s here,” and pretend I believe that is enough.

Maybe that’s what breaking cycles looks like.

Not perfection.

Presence.

Maybe healing isn’t having all the answers.

Maybe it’s staying in the bed when it’s messy and uncomfortable and saying, “You’re safe,” even when you don’t feel safe yourself.

Grief changes you.

It makes you grow up overnight.

It makes you strong in ways you never asked for.

It forces you to become both the parent and the child in your own body.

And sometimes strength looks like scrubbing sheets at 3 a.m.

Sometimes strength looks like crying quietly in the bathroom so your kids don’t see.

Sometimes strength looks like admitting:

I don’t want to be this independent.

I want someone to hold me too.

But since she isn’t here, I will do what mothers have always done.

I will gather my babies close.

I will give the love I never got in the ways I can.

I will keep showing up.

Even under a full moon.

Even with no clean towels.

Even with grief sitting beside me in the dark.

Because love, even when imperfect, is still love.

And maybe that is enough.

-Casie Ellison

20 Years

Mon, 23 Feb 2026 13:34:36 GMT

I always wanted to belong. To be part of something. To be understood and heard, to be seen

and loved .

On February 25, 2006, I was inducted into such a group. My membership was not a choice that I

made; instead, someone made it for me by killing my brother, Toby, and getting away with it.

This membership felt like an ominous weight that suppressed any light from shining, allowing

only darkness to drown and suppress.

So, I ran. I hid. I numbed. I ignored…& ultimately drowned in the depths of despair, grief,

isolation, and depression. The shards of my hardened, shattered heart were shredding and

ripping me apart.

Until I realized the wisdom and strength this niche group had to offer. These fellow survivors

spoke a familiar, shared language that I understood. I was drawn to their powerful stories.

These beautiful survivors leaned in and spoke truth and listened without pretending to have

answers. I was blessed by their perseverance, faith, and willingness to step in when I simply

couldn’t find my footing.

My membership in this group of survivors has lasted 7,305 days or 20 years. Together we

mourn, share stories, pray, gather, love, and encourage.

Twenty years have allowed for personal growth and advocacy in the emptiness created when

Toby was murdered. This growth was made possible because of God’s redemption power , His

grace and love, and the strength of fellow survivors.

Twenty more years will pass in a blink, but my roots have grown deeper and stronger, sustaining

my soul.

-Claire Cunningham, Survived by:

Toby John Beaugh
June 9, 1976- February 25, 2006

When Avoiding Pain Costs Us More

Mon, 16 Feb 2026 17:36:42 GMT

Sometimes the things we try hardest not to feel are the very things that quietly grow heavier inside us.

I recently watched someone I love ignore real physical pain. What started as something small became something serious. What could have been treated early almost turned into something life-threatening. Not because she didn’t care about her health, but because facing pain is hard, and fear takes over.

Admitting something is wrong is hard. Slowing down long enough to heal is hard. And grief can work the same way.

As moms who carry loss, they know how tempting it is to push the pain aside just to survive the day. They stay busy. They take care of everyone else. They tell themselves that they will deal with it later. But unprocessed pain doesn’t disappear; it waits, it lingers.

And most of the time, it grows heavier than it ever needed to be. Healing doesn’t ask us to relive everything all at once. It simply asks us to be honest about what hurts.

Sometimes healing looks like:

letting yourself cry instead of staying strong
saying “this is hard” out loud
asking for help instead of carrying it alone
resting when your body and heart are tired
allowing God to meet you in the places you try to avoid, seeking him

Small moments of honesty in our open wounds protect us from deeper wounds later. And here is a hope:

Nothing you are carrying is too broken, too late, or too far gone for God to meet you there.

One honest step at a time… healing is still possible.

Grief Isn't Gentle Today

Mon, 02 Feb 2026 14:35:26 GMT

Today, grief isn’t poetic.

It isn’t soft.

It isn’t teaching me anything new.

Today, grief is loud and inconvenient and rude as hell.

It shows up uninvited while I’m trying to function, while I’m answering emails, making food, folding tiny socks, pretending I’m fine because the world doesn’t stop spinning just because my heart still aches. Grief doesn’t care about productivity. It doesn’t care about timelines. It doesn’t care that it’s been years and people think I should be “better by now.”

Grief doesn’t move on.

It moves with you.

Some days it’s a quiet hum in the background. Other days, like today, it grabs me by the throat and reminds me of everything that never got finished. Conversations that never happened. Apologies that were never spoken. Futures that died right alongside the person I lost.

And here’s the part no one likes to say out loud:

Grief is exhausting.

Not just emotionally, but physically. It lives in the body. It weighs down my chest. It fogs my brain. It steals my energy and then dares to make me feel guilty for being tired. I can love my life and still be wrecked by loss. Those things can coexist, even when people don’t understand how.

Some days I don’t want advice.

I don’t want silver linings.

I don’t want “everything happens for a reason.”

I want someone to say, “Yeah. This sucks. And it makes sense that you’re not okay today.”

Because grief isn’t a straight line. It’s not stages. It’s not something you conquer or outgrow. It’s a relationship you learn to carry, sometimes gently, sometimes dragging it behind you like a weight you didn’t ask for.

Today, I miss who I was before I learned this kind of pain.

I miss the version of me that didn’t flinch at certain dates, songs, smells, or silence.

I miss the innocence of believing loss was something that happened to other people.

But here’s the truth I’m still standing in, even on days like this:

Grief is proof of love.

And love this deep doesn’t disappear just because someone is gone.

So if today you’re barely holding it together, if you’re angry, numb, sad, resentful, jealous of people who don’t carry this kind of ache, you’re not broken. You’re grieving.

And today, that’s enough.

You don’t need to rise above it.

You don’t need to be inspiring.

You don’t need to explain yourself.

You just need permission to feel what is real.

So here it is:

You’re allowed to hurt today.

You’re allowed to rest today.

You’re allowed to miss them loudly, or quietly, or messily.

Grief isn’t gentle today.

But neither am I.

And somehow, I’m still here.

-Casie Ellison

The Suffering

Mon, 26 Jan 2026 20:24:11 GMT

This past weekend in the group, many moms shared a deep and aching pain:
the fear and grief around their child’s suffering, and the heartbreak of not being there when they died; the unknown.

There is a particular kind of grief that comes from imagining what your child may have felt, wondering if they were scared, in pain, or alone. Alongside that often comes the quiet, haunting wish:
If I had been there, maybe I could have saved them. The guilt.

Even when we know, logically, that we could not have changed the outcome, the love of a mother still asks what if.

If this is where your grief sits today, please know this: That wish does not mean you failed.

It means you loved deeply, fiercely, and without limits. Grief can carry both truth and longing at the same time. The truth that you could not have prevented what happened, and the longing that says you would have done anything to protect your child from suffering.

Today, coping doesn’t have to mean resolving those thoughts.

It can look like:

Letting the ache exist without arguing with it
Offering yourself the same compassion you would give another grieving mother
Releasing the burden of responsibility your heart still tries to carry
Choosing rest over replaying the unanswerable questions

You loved your child.
You still do.
And nothing about their suffering erases that love or your goodness as a mother. Stay the course.

Complicated

Mon, 19 Jan 2026 13:39:43 GMT

You’re not complicated. The things you have been through are complicated.

How freeing is this statement? For me, it empowers me to recognize both my pains and hurts, as well as my joys and good moments.

Complicated grief. What do we do when Healing isn’t linear?

I have spent my career learning about complicated grief and how it impacts us differently. Complicated grief happens when loss overwhelms the nervous system. Though it’s common after a sudden and traumatic loss, this kind of grief doesn’t follow a timeline, and it doesn’t mean you’re doing anything wrong.

Healing doesn’t mean grief disappears . This is something that I have sat in dark places with have had a hard time accepting.

It means grief integrates into your life. Integration looks like learning how to carry loss while still living. Some days feel heavy. Other days feel light. AND both can/do exist together.

Grief that’s integrating may still show up, but it doesn’t have to control everything.

A simple coping guide

Use this as a reminder of what healing can look like:

• You can hold sadness and joy

• Triggers still come, but recovery can be quicker

• Hard days don’t mean you’re going backwards, you’re learning your new capacity

• You CAN allow yourself to be where you are

Your grief isn’t failing; it’s finding its place to rest. You’re not behind. You’re healing.

When Healing Feels Slow

Mon, 12 Jan 2026 13:33:36 GMT

Some days, healing feels big and obvious.
Other days it’s quiet, one breath, one step, one small choice at a time.

If you’re walking through a slow season, remember this:

God Is With You

Psalm 34:18 tells us God is close to the brokenhearted.
Even when we don’t feel better right away, He is right beside us, NOT on the sidelines .

Slow Is Still Progress

Healing may look like:

Getting out of bed
Making one healthy choice
Asking for help
Letting yourself rest
Whispering a prayer
Trusting the process

Tiny steps still move you forward....

Reflection

This week, try to ask yourself:

Where did I feel God near me?
What small thing helped me take a step forward?

Prayer

God, help me trust Your timing.
Walk with me, guide me, and strengthen me, one day at a time. Amen. You are not alone.
God is working in and through you, slowly, gently, and beautifully.

A Gentle New Year Focus

Mon, 05 Jan 2026 13:56:47 GMT

The new year often feels like pressure. Am I wrong? The start of a new year can feel complicated when we are carrying grief. While everyone else talks about resolutions, fresh starts, and big goals, we may begin feeling tired, guarded, and even unsure how to step forward at all.

One thing to be sure of: you don’t need a “new you.” You just need support, permission to move slowly, and tools that help you breathe again. This year doesn’t have to be about fixing. It can be about coping with intention and choosing what feels supportive, possible, and not overwhelming.

A Softer Way to Enter the New Year

Instead of asking, “What should I change?”
Try asking:

What do I need more of to feel steady?
What drains me that I can gently loosen my grip on?
What feels grounding when the grief waves hit?

Small shifts matter. Gentle choices count. Always one day at a time.

Complicatedly Uncomplicated

Mon, 22 Dec 2025 14:39:26 GMT

Nothing about Louisiana is easy (for me). That boot shaped piece of land contains all of the

immense, naïve, joyful childhood happiness and the agony associated with the painful reality of

death and shattered, fractured, gray familial relationships.

Louisiana is a place remembered and spoken of fondly, yet in the same breath it draws forth

raging emotions. ‘The boot’ holds old friends that I haven’t seen in a decade (plus), but who can

always be relied upon to show up.

Louisiana also holds family that should be loyal, but who choose to hold secrets, impose guilt

and shame, and repulsive prideful embellishments.The quandary is how to navigate such a landscape without negatively affecting the ones I hold dear.

How does one communicate boundaries in the slippery niceties of those who have good intentions, but who are offensively intrusive?

How to not become hardened and bitter by the

lack of effort, transparency, authenticity, and pride?

Jesus .

Jesus’ gift of removing the heaviness and anxieties, the imperfections and the hurts, the failures

and the shame, the sloppy messes made because of pride- He takes it all from us so that we

can be joyous in the excrement.

He removes the weight from our chests so that we can breathe His crisp, clean, fresh air and be

joyous! He does! He will because He is Savior!

Only because of and through Him are we able to navigate the swamps of emotions and the rot

of past hurts, mistrust, deceit, and lies. Jesus is the way through. So, I submit my dark fear, paralyzing anxiety, abysmal sadness, overwhelming grief and sadness, and shattering sorrow.

Lord, I submit to you again and again so that my heart will be transformed by your gift of grace

and mercy.

-Claire Cunningham

Intentional Healing

Mon, 15 Dec 2025 13:23:41 GMT

I am a human with negative thoughts. I am a human who has held onto false beliefs about myself and others. Can you relate? Maybe you have never noticed how negative your thinking can be.

In grief or in everyday circumstances, the thoughts we think create emotions, and our emotions create a reality that we begin to believe. Let's read below to know where to start and how:

When we’re grieving, our minds can fill with heavy thoughts. These thoughts often sound like:

“It will always be this bad.”
“I can’t get better.”
“No one cares about me.”

Sound familiar?

They feel true in the moment, but they are usually coming from pain, not reality.

Intentional healing starts with noticing these thoughts instead of letting them control us.

Step 1: Notice the Thought

When a painful thought shows up, pause and simply ask:

“What am I telling myself right now?”

You don’t need to fix it yet. Just notice it.

Step 2: Gently Question It

Ask yourself:

Is this 100% true?
How do I feel when I believe this?
What if I never had this thought again?
What is the complete opposite of this thought?

Often, the opposite sounds like hope:

“I can heal.”
“People do care about me.”
“This won’t feel this heavy forever.”

Step 3: Choose a Healing Thought

When a fear-based story shows up, gently choose a new one.

Ask:

“What if the opposite is true?”

This isn’t pretending. It’s practicing a healthier, more truthful way of thinking.

Step 4: Repeat Daily

Healing happens in small steps. Each time you challenge a painful belief and replace it with a hopeful one, your mind learns a new way forward. We can rewire our brains. How cool is that?!

Intentional healing is not about perfection, it’s about giving yourself the chance to believe something kinder, softer, and more truthful. One thought at a time, you move toward peace.

(info comes from the book "The Sudden Loss Survival Guide" by Chelsea Hanson.)

Preparing for the Holidays

Mon, 08 Dec 2025 16:12:31 GMT

The holiday season often brings twinkling lights, familiar songs, and gatherings that warm the heart. But for many of us, it also brings a quiet ache seeing an empty chair, the missing laugh, the traditions that may not feel the same anymore.

Reminder: The holiday season doesn’t mean forgetting; it means learning how to carry love and loss together.

Here are a few gentle ways to prepare your heart for the holidays:

1. Name What You’re Feeling

Permit yourself to acknowledge the sadness, anxiety, or heaviness that comes up. Grief often softens when we stop fighting it and simply name it: “This is grief. This is love.”

2. Create One Simple Ritual

Rituals anchor us. Light a candle, hang a special ornament, set out a photo, or make their favorite dessert. It doesn’t have to be big, just meaningful. A moment to say, “You mattered. You still do.”

3. Make Space for Both Joy and Tears

You don’t have to choose. You can laugh with people you love and still miss the one who isn’t there. Both are allowed. Both are human.

4. Plan Your “Support Moments.”

Think ahead to the parts of the season that might feel hard: gatherings, songs, scents, anniversaries. Have a plan: a friend you can text, a quiet place to step away, a grounding phrase, or a comforting object you can hold.

5. Lower the Pressure

You don’t have to do holidays the way you always have. You don’t have to “be okay.” You don’t have to force yourself into traditions that feel too heavy. Permit yourself to simplify.

No one grieves in the same way, and there is no “right” way to face the holidays. But you don’t have to do it alone.

You’re allowed to honor your person.
You’re allowed to honor your heart.
One gentle step at a time.

A Love Letter To Self

Mon, 01 Dec 2025 13:44:36 GMT

Dear Me,

I’m writing this slowly, intentionally, like someone finally brave enough to touch a wound without flinching. I’ve carried so much—grief that changed my bones, heartbreak that rearranged my future, pain that taught me how to breathe underwater. And through it all, I kept going. Even on nights when the world felt unlivable. Even when silence was the only witness to the battles I fought.

So today, I’m giving myself something I’ve never really had the courage to offer: permission.

Permission to love again.

Permission to be soft again.

Permission to stop treating survival like my only personality trait.

I’ve earned tenderness.

I’ve earned peace.

I’ve earned the right to lay down the armor that once saved me but now weighs too much.

I’m no longer apologizing for the ways trauma shaped me. I’m thanking myself for staying alive through it. I’m honoring the versions of me that held the line when I didn’t think I’d make it this far. I’m finally letting my heart know: You are safe with me now.

I promise to love myself in ways I used to beg others to try.

I promise to speak softly to my own nervous system.

I promise to choose people who choose me back.

I promise not to abandon the person who has carried me through every unseen war—me.

And to my future self—the one who will fall in love again, whether with a person, a dream, a sunrise, or a new chapter—I want you to know:

You are allowed to receive what once broke you.

You are allowed to trust joy again.

You are allowed to be held.

Today, I step forward with an open heart not because I am unhurt, but because I am healing.

And healing deserves love.

With tenderness,

Casie

When Thanks is Hard to Find

Mon, 24 Nov 2025 13:24:26 GMT

Thanksgiving can be a tender time for families who have lost a loved one to homicide. The empty chair, the traditions that feel different, and the quiet moments of remembering can make this season feel bittersweet.

One thing for you to remember: there is no “right way” to do the holidays while grieving. You are allowed to feel joy, sadness, gratitude, anger, or all of it at once. Grief and thankfulness can AND DO coexist.

If it feels comforting, you might honor your loved one in small ways, such as lighting a candle, cooking their favorite dish, sharing a memory, or simply saying their name. The holidays are not a time to pretend you are not in pain or missing them. INVITE them into it all...

Most of all, permit yourself to move through this season at your own pace. Rest when you need to. Step back when you must. Allow moments of connection when they come.

Let grief come... Let Thanksgiving come. Let it all in....

Remembering Without the Sting

Mon, 17 Nov 2025 16:22:54 GMT

In the beginning, grief hurts with every memory. A song, a photo, a holiday, even a quiet moment can feel like a sharp pain. That sting doesn’t mean you’re weak; it means you loved deeply.

But over time, something gentle begins to shift.
You don’t forget.
You don’t “move on.”
You simply learn to carry the love in a new way.

Memories that once broke you can begin to soften. You find yourself telling a story and smiling first. You feel the warmth before the ache. The pain doesn’t vanish, but it loosens its grip.

This is what healing looks like: not letting go, but holding differently.
Carrying their life forward in your compassion, your strength, your choices, your love.

I f you’re not there yet, that’s okay. You will get there, slowly and tenderly, one breath at a time.

Letting Love In Again After Loss

Mon, 10 Nov 2025 13:57:47 GMT

When you’ve lost someone you love, opening your heart again can feel impossible. Grief changes you. It makes love feel scary and uncertain. But healing doesn’t ask you to forget it simply invites you to make gentle space for life again.

Letting love in doesn’t begin with big moments. It starts with simple ones:

Letting someone help you.

Allowing a friend to sit with you.

Saying “yes” to connection when you feel ready, EVEN when you don’t feel like it.

Tiny openings matter. Grief and Love Can and DO Coexist

Loving again or letting go doesn’t erase your love one.

It doesn’t mean you’re “moving on.” We can move on and stand still at the same time.
It means your heart is learning to hold both memory and hope simultaneously.

You’re Not Behind

There is no timeline.
No pressure.
No “right way” to live again.

When love shows up in your life, whether through friendship, community, or family, your heart can heal and receive again, one small step at a time. Be kind to yourself, be compassionate, and stay open. We can heal, hurt, and live all in one season.

The Quiet Grief Hidden in The Mundane

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 14:33:19 GMT

Sometimes the heaviest grief isn’t the breakdown moments.

Sometimes it’s the walk to take the trash to the curb.

It’s the quiet things.

The repetitive things.

The 200 daily tasks we do on autopilot.

Sorting the mail.

Packing kids’ lunches.

Answering work messages while stirring spaghetti.

Wiping a counter again because someone always leaves crumbs.

And in those tiny in-between seconds, the ones nobody thinks about…

we feel the ache.

For me, it isn’t the grief of missing shared memories. It’s the grief of missing memories that never existed.

I miss conversations with my mother…conversations I never actually got to have.

And that, right there, is what grief really is.

It isn’t only missing what was. It’s longing for what should have been.

People think grief has an expiration date. They think it’s a collection of big anniversaries and hard holidays.

But it’s also… carrying a trash bag to the end of the driveway on a random Tuesday night and suddenly, out of nowhere, the thought hits:

“I wish I could call her about this… even this boring little moment.”

And there you are standing under the streetlight,

breathing, and feeling that sting behind your eyes.

Not because something bad happened today…

…but because you simply wish she were here for all of it.

Even the boring parts.

Especially the boring parts.

In those mundane moments, that’s where the intimacy of life actually lives.

If you’re reading this and you’ve had those silent sucker-punch moments,

those quiet flashes of longing…

I want you to know:

You’re not broken.

You’re not weak.

You’re not “still not over it.”

You’re human.

Grief doesn’t give warnings.

It doesn’t schedule itself on the calendar.

It slips into the ordinary.

And honestly, that is bittersweet proof of how deeply we loved…

even if we never had the chance to love them in the way we deserved.

So when it hits you while you’re taking out the trash,

or buckling a child in the car,

or paying bills in the kitchen at 9 PM…

let it come.

You don’t have to push it away.

You don’t have to “get over it.”

Some love leaves a longing that lasts a lifetime.

And that’s okay.

Grateful

Mon, 27 Oct 2025 12:50:48 GMT

A NIGHT OF REMEMBRANCE

That night was something truly special.

Our Roots of Hope: Night of Remembrance brought together mothers, families, friends, and the community, each, no doubt, carrying their own story of love and loss. The room was filled with tears, laughter, compassion, and the awareness that comes when hearts unite in remembrance. My vision was for it to create HOPE and I believe it did.

Today, I feel deep gratitude .

Gratitude for every mom who showed up with courage and strength.
Gratitude for every volunteer, sponsor, and supporter who made the night possible. There were so many behind-the-scenes moments that made it all possible.
Gratitude for the stories shared, the hugs exchanged, and the moments of peace that reminded us: WE ARE NEVER ALONE.

Grief and gratitude often walk hand in hand. Even in the ache, there can be beauty. Even in loss, there can be great connection. Connection and community heal.

To every mother and family who joined us, thank you for trusting us with your love and your memories. May your hearts find rest knowing that your children’s light continues to shine through all of us.

We are always here as needed.

Again

Mon, 20 Oct 2025 15:21:09 GMT

Well, it circled back around like it does every year, but this time I was prepared: October 8, my birthday.

All of my favorite ‘things’ were lined up. Concerts were attended; road trips were taken; movies were watched; cake was devoured, and soccer matches were won. The weather was warm and the sun was shining.

Gratitude and love flooded my heart of memories from years past. I’m looking forward to taking Toby with me into this next adventurous spin around the sun.

-Claire Cunningham

As memories resurface, give yourself permission to feel them and also to celebrate how far you’ve come. Try journaling one “then vs. now” reflection to see your own growth in motion. If the waves of remembering rise, pause and pray a simple prayer of gratitude for both the love that shaped you and the strength that still carries you.

The Stories We Tell Ourselves in Grief

Mon, 13 Oct 2025 12:40:21 GMT

Grief changes the way we think and feel. Our world changed. It can make the world feel blurry, unfair, and heavy. Sometimes it even twists our thoughts into painful stories that sound true in the moment, things like “I should be over this by now,” or “If I laugh, it means I’ve forgotten them.”

These are called cognitive distortions; automatic thoughts that aren’t fully true but feel real when our hearts are hurting. They often show up to help us make sense of loss, but they can also keep us stuck in guilt, shame, or fear.

In my clinical and personal lived experience, here are a few examples many people experience while grieving:

All-or-Nothing Thinking

“If I move forward, it means I’m leaving them behind.”
Truth: Healing doesn’t mean forgetting. You can carry their memory while still creating a life that honors them.

“Should” Statements

“I should be stronger than this.”
Truth: There’s no right way to grieve. You’re doing the best you can with something no one prepares for.

Catastrophizing

“If I start crying, I’ll never stop.”
Truth: Feelings come in waves. Crying helps release what’s been carried too long.

Overgeneralization

“Nothing good ever happens anymore.”
Truth: Grief narrows our view. Moments of joy or beauty don’t erase pain, they remind us we’re still alive.

Emotional Reasoning

“I feel guilty, so I must have done something wrong.”
Truth: Guilt often comes from love, wishing we could have done more. But your love is proof you already did what mattered most.

Becoming aware of these patterns doesn’t make grief disappear, but it helps you meet yourself with gentleness. When those thoughts show up, pause and ask:

“Is this my grief talking, or is this the truth?”

You don’t have to believe every thought that shows up in your pain. Healing begins with softening how you speak to yourself through compassion not judgment.

When the Caregiver Gets Sick: Mothering Through the Hard Weeks

Mon, 06 Oct 2025 14:11:30 GMT

This week was one of those that humbles you to your knees.

It started with a stomach virus, the kind that doesn’t care about your to-do list, your work meetings, or the toddler waiting at your bedside asking for snacks. The kind that strips you down to survival mode. And when you’re a mom who doesn’t have a mom to call, the loneliness hits even harder.

There’s something uniquely brutal about being sick when you’re the one everyone else depends on. I kept thinking how much I would have given for a simple, “Do you need me to come over?” or even just a “Rest, I’ve got it from here.” But for those of us grieving our mothers, or anyone who’s lost that kind of soft safety net, these moments crack us open all over again.

Grief has a funny way of sneaking into the mundane. It shows up when you’re cleaning up a spill, running on no sleep, or lying on the bathroom floor trying to keep it together. It whispers, “This is when she would have helped you.” And that realization stings in a place deeper than exhaustion can reach.

But here’s what this week reminded me of:

Even when our mothers can’t be here, we still carry the way they would have loved us.

It’s in how we comfort our children, how we push through the fog, how we keep going even when it’s messy and unfair. It’s not about perfection, it’s about persistence.

So if you’ve had a week like mine, sick, tired, overextended, and aching for the kind of care you can’t receive anymore, please know this: you’re doing it. You’re surviving the impossible, again and again. And that’s something your loved one would be deeply proud of.

Let this be your gentle reminder to rest when you can, to cry if you need to, and to give yourself credit for every small victory. Because sometimes surviving is the bravest thing you’ll do all week.

-Casie Ellison, survivor

Seasons

Mon, 29 Sep 2025 12:26:18 GMT

I LOVE seasons. I love how they change. Now, in Florida, I am aware we do not experience seasons like other states; however, we do experience changes. I notice that seasons change, no matter what trials or pain we face. I lost my dad on October 6th, almost 17 years ago. It was the fall. The season was changing. But soon after, winter came, then spring, then summer, and the year repeated. I was still hurting.

I have a lot of experience with painful seasons, but I also have a lot of experience with healing. We cannot control the seasons we encounter. However, we can choose what we fixate on . The decline of meaning and the loss, OR looking more deeply, we may see possibilities being planted to bear fruit in a season yet to come.

Each season carries both endings and beginnings. We may not always welcome the season we find ourselves in, but we can trust that it will not last forever. Just as the earth keeps turning and new life continues to bloom, so too do our hearts find ways to heal. Seasons remind us that pain and beauty can coexist, and that even in our hardest winters, the promise of spring is quietly on its way.

The Raft We Carry: A Grief Reflection

Mon, 22 Sep 2025 12:28:12 GMT

There’s an old story about a boy who built a raft to survive a dangerous river. That raft saved his life, carrying him safely to shore. But once he reached land, he didn’t know how to let it go. He carried it with him through forests, across fields, and even up mountains. The raft had saved him, but now it was slowing him down. I love this story for various reasons.

Grief often creates “rafts” for us, coping strategies/tools that help us survive the impossible. Maybe it’s anger that fuels your energy when you’re numb. Maybe it’s isolation that protects you from further heartbreak. Maybe it’s hyper-vigilance that helps you feel safe after tragedy.

These responses are life preservers during the storm, and they matter. However, what saves us in survival mode can become burdensome over time. Carrying those same tools into every season can keep us stuck, exhausted, and disconnected from life.

Healing isn’t about forgetting or “moving on.” It’s about honoring what got us through and gently setting it down when it no longer serves us. You don’t have to drop it all at once. Even loosening your grip a little at a time makes room for peace, rest, and connection.

Reflection:

What “raft” or coping mechanism helped you survive your hardest season?

How is that tool serving you today? How might it be holding you back?

What would it look like to gently set down one burden you’ve been carrying?

Who or what could support you as you begin to walk freely again?

Rooted

Mon, 15 Sep 2025 12:33:43 GMT

I grew up playing the piano on an ancient piano that had attitude and soul. It was painted glossy black, ridiculously heavy, and full of character. The story goes that this piano, on which I fumbled through Chopin and Rachmaninov, was seasoned in a seedy bar.

Cigarettes were held between the bass strings, and highball glasses rested on the side pads, leaving condensation rings behind. I really loved this piano. Toby would walk around the corner with a face full of disgust and horror as I fumbled through the notes, attempting to learn each piece. I can’t help but laugh as I think back on the sheer misery that his face expressed as I played.

This memory (and so many others) is rooted in my heart and brings me directly back to Toby. Our hearts are forever woven together.

Oftentimes my heart and soul become heavy with sorrow, but because I am grounded in Jesus He wraps me in His comforting love and grace. “that according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, that you, being rooted and grounded in love may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.” Ephesians 3:16-19 ESV

-Claire Cunningham

Scar Tissue

Mon, 08 Sep 2025 12:22:14 GMT

I was recently talking to a mentor of mine. We discussed how grief creeps in in various ways. One lesson I have learned in life to the fullest is that grief comes in all shapes and sizes. Another lesson is that pain can turn a wound to a scab and then to a scar.

Grief is a lot like scar tissue. It forms slowly, after the sharp pain of the initial wound. At first, it’s raw and sensitive; everything around it hurts. Over time, scar tissue develops, a tough, protective patch.

It’s evidence that healing has taken place, but it’s not the same as the unbroken skin that was there before. Like scars, grief changes us. It makes us tender in some spots, tougher in others, and forever marked by what we’ve been through. Our scars are a testament to our survival.

Grief will come in painful waves and go out again, much like the ocean. Though tender, the tissue can tighten and ache. We survive it each time. We do recover.

Grief Is a Charcuterie Board

Mon, 01 Sep 2025 13:16:10 GMT

Grief doesn’t arrive neatly plated.

It’s more like girl dinner, or a charcuterie board thrown together at 9 p.m., a little hot tea, a tumbler of wine, a Yoo-hoo, some pistachios, and a soul-food tomato sandwich you slapped together while staring off into space. Snacking while the edamame water comes to a boil, wondering if you’ll even still be hungry by the time it’s done.

That’s grief. It’s a little bit of everything at once: comfort, chaos, survival, sweetness, bitterness . It’s grapes in a plastic carton beside half-sliced tomatoes on the cutting board. It’s coffee and chocolate milk coexisting on the same counter. It’s knowing you can’t make it through a full “meal,” but you’ll piece together enough to keep yourself alive tonight.

Grief is a spread of contradictions. The things that don’t belong together, belong together, because they’re what you had the energy to reach for. The pistachios, the leftover cheese, the mug with your tea bag string dangling, a sip of wine to chase it.

It’s not about the presentation. It’s about survival.

And like girl dinner, grief is about doing what you can with what you have, whether it looks pretty or not.

-Casie Ellison

You Can

Mon, 25 Aug 2025 12:38:24 GMT

Healing. A majority of people do not find healing possible without answers or understanding of their pain. Research shows that survivors of homicide often equate “healing” with justice being served. When cases remain unsolved or perpetrators remain unpunished, survivors may feel betrayed by systems and unable to move forward.

Though we often see through a painful lens, we can try to believe that moving forward is a part of healing. Taking an action step toward healing is a significant step. This is not a one-and-done moment. Once you start moving forward, it becomes easier to continue going forward. There is healing in both the doing and the being.

You may not be able to do what you need as before, or as much as you want to. You may not even be able to do what you think you should do, but you can always do something. We do not have to live in an open wound ; however, we can live by finding meaning beyond the wound.

Living in a wounded state keeps us in a loop of unresolved pain. Living in a hopeful state for taking steps forward can help us begin to accept the unresolved pain/wounds.

Keep pressing forward.

On My Mind

Sun, 17 Aug 2025 23:40:58 GMT

I get lost in my head thinking about days to come while simultaneously reliving memories. Images and live action clips run wild in my head, triggering audible chuckling and sometimes random bursts of laughter. I found myself alone in a single person kayak in the middle of the Caribbean. I was marveling at the beauty surrounding me.

The puffy, fluffy clouds hung against a cerulean blue sky. The sea was still and so transparent that sea creatures big and small were visible to my sunglass-covered eyes. Peace filled my heart, and tears rolled down my cheeks because God was in the kayak with me. My conversation with Him was full of praise for His awesomeness and the beauty surrounding me, but I also met Him with deep sorrow and an inability to fathom why He takes away those we love. I held nothing back as I poured my heart out to Him.

Over the years, I’ve learned to bring my sorrow, joy, and praise to God because He can handle my big emotions. He wants a relationship with me, and that means holding nothing back: the good, the not-so-good, the multitude of questions, doubt, anger, sorrow, grief, and despair. I am learning to trust and rely on Him because He is greater and bigger than my deepest sorrows, saddest emotions, and paralyzing anxiety. He fights for me so that I don’t have to. He always meets me with love, compassion, and hope for the days to come.

-Claire Cunningham

Met in Our Grief

Mon, 11 Aug 2025 12:33:03 GMT

Working through grief sometimes means taking action. This pain doesn't go away just because time passes. Grief is heavy. It can feel like waves that knock the breath out of you when you least expect it. It changes everything, and it’s not something you can “just get over.”

Even Jesus didn’t avoid grief. At the tomb of His friend Lazarus, “Jesus wept” (John 11:35). He knew he was about to raise his friend from the dead, but He still felt the weight of loss . This realization gives me hope and allows me to feel deeply, too.

That moment reminds us that emotions aren’t a sign of weak faith; they’re a part of being human.

Jesus doesn’t ask us to suppress our feelings or rush past the pain. He walks with us through it, through the tears, the questions, the days that feel unbearable, even if that means we won't have all of the answers.

Getting through grief isn’t about forgetting or forcing yourself to be strong. It’s about letting Jesus sit with you in the ache, trusting Him to carry you when you can’t take another step, and believing that comfort will come, because He promised it would (Matthew 5:4).

If you’re grieving, feel it. Cry it. Pray it. And know you’re not alone, Jesus is with you in every tear, and He won’t EVER let go.

Grace in the Breakdown

Mon, 04 Aug 2025 12:58:30 GMT

For the Motherless Mother Becoming a Single One

There’s a kind of quiet that settles over a woman when she realizes—

she has no one left to call.

No mother to ask,

“How do I do this alone?”

No partner to say,

“Don’t worry, I’ve got the car.”

Just… her.

And the kids.

And the schedule.

And the to-do list that doesn’t flinch when your heart breaks.

This is where I found myself.

Somewhere between the decision to leave—or the devastation of being left—

in the soft, aching center of single motherhood.

And on the day I tried to travel,

life greeted me with a flat tire.

Not just a slow leak.

Not just a temporary setback.

A full stop.

On the side of the road.

With no idea what to do next.

And for a second, I stared at the car like it was a metaphor for me.

Worn down.

Out of air.

Not built to fix itself.

There was no one to call who would drop everything to come rescue me.

No mom to gently tease me for never learning how to change a tire.

No partner pulling over with a quiet solution and a reassuring glance.

Just me.

And the decision to leave the car behind.

Because some days, surviving doesn’t mean fixing everything.

It means knowing when to walk away

and when to come back later with help, or not at all.

I came home tired—emotionally and otherwise.

And there, waiting for me, were my children.

Bright-eyed.

Buzzing with energy.

Completely unaware that I’d cried in a gas station bathroom an hour earlier.

They had picked out their outfits for the first day of school.

They wanted me to watch their fashion show.

“Look, Mama!”

“Do I look grown-up in this one?”

“Should I wear the sparkly shoes or the white ones?”

And I smiled.

Big.

Bright.

Believable.

Because that’s what we do, isn’t it?

We put on grace like a fresh coat of lipstick.

We clap and twirl and cheer—

even when our insides feel like shattered glass.

We hold space for their joy while quietly managing our own despair.

And still—there’s beauty here.

There’s something stunning about the way we keep showing up.

Not perfectly.

Not without tears.

But fully.

We are the mothers who braid hair with trembling hands.

Who give warm smiles with hollow hearts.

Who whisper, “You’ve got this,” to our kids

even when we’re not sure we do.

We are the ones who figure it out.

Who leave the flat tire on the side of the road

and come home in time for bedtime stories.

We are the ones who remember what it felt like to be mothered,

and try to give our children the best version of that memory.

Even when no one is mothering us.

If you’re in this season too—

flat-tired and fashion-showing,

motherless and making it—

I see you.

You’re not weak for crying.

You’re not failing because you couldn’t fix the car.

You’re not broken because your smile felt forced.

You are doing something heroic,

even if no one is clapping.

And I’m clapping for you now.

- Survivor, Casie Ellison

Form and the Weight We Carry

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 28 Jul 2025 12:40:21 GMT

Form. It is always about form.

I work out a lot. This is not to brag; this is how I usually connect beautiful insights. When I attend a weightlifting class, I notice that everyone in the room is using various-sized weights. Some have smaller weights, some have medium-sized, and then others have the heaviest. I watch those people. I check their form, their ability to carry the weight, and perform without injury. Then I focus on my form. I do not often go very heavy because the weight I am lifting, I am still practicing good form with. Why am I sharing this?

This simple observation during workouts reminded me of how we carry emotional weight in grief, often without realizing how much we’re lifting or whether we’re carrying it in a way that helps or harms. Sometimes, we take on more weight than we need to, forgetting that we have a choice in how much we carry and how we carry it.

People often ask me, “Why would God allow this?” The weight of that question is heavy, especially when carried alone. When we shoulder grief without proper form, without community, support, hope, healing, or love, suffering can become the lens through which we see everything. God's permission in our suffering is not passive. He is not watching from the sidelines.

Pain and sorrow can distort the shape of our hearts, distorting our ability to see hope and healing when pain and sorrow have occurred. Change the form (perception, perspective) and the weight of the pain will feel lighter. Nothing is bringing our loved ones back, but we can find a way through the pain. We may not get to choose what we carry, but we can choose how we carry it and who carries it with us.

Connection

Mon, 21 Jul 2025 13:24:06 GMT

Soccer and tennis have changed my life: lifelong friendships, life lessons, world travel, tragic heartbreak, and immense joy. Season ticket holders become familiar with each other throughout each season. Tailgates, traveling to out of town matches, group chats, team chants, aggressive high fives and fist bumps, maddening losing spells, and joyous winning sprees unify the ‘family’.

This sounds peculiar, but shortly after Toby’s murder, I have become sensitive to individuals who have lost someone to homicide. I sensed this from a fellow season ticket holder. When she asked me about my siblings, I shared Toby’s story. She shared that her daughter was murdered.

Our friendship has grown over the last 3 soccer seasons. Her family is my family, and my family is her family. We have an understanding that is at the heart level. I believe that God crossed our paths because we each needed a safe place and an empathetic soul in which to confide.

There is so much power in weathering emotional storms and rejoicing in the triumphant sunrises with a kindred spirit. She is my sister in Jesus Christ, and I am forever grateful.

-Claire Cunningham

The Weeping of a Mother

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 14 Jul 2025 12:26:52 GMT

I was reading the gospel recently, and this verse touched my heart for the moms we serve.

Rachel Weeping

Matthew 2:18 (NIV)

“A voice is heard in Ramah, weeping and great mourning,

Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted,

because they are no more.”

There is a cry so deep, so sacred, that even Scripture pauses to make space for it. Rachel’s cry is not just a historical moment; it’s the echo of every grieving mother’s voice across time.

And when we have cried this cry or heard it, we won't ever forget its sound.

When Herod ordered the death of the baby boys in Bethlehem, Matthew didn’t just report the horror; he reached back to Jeremiah, to Rachel, the mother of a nation, who “refused to be comforted because they are no more.” (This is not the refuasal to be comforted by using avoidance).

This verse speaks directly to mothers whose children were stolen by violence. It tells you:

• Your grief is not invisible.

• Your cries are heard by heaven.

• Your refusal to be comforted isn’t weakness, it’s honest, and it’s holy.

God didn’t look away from Rachel’s tears and He doesn’t look away from yours.

Jesus was born into this world not in spite of the pain, but through it. Into a landscape of murder, injustice, and trauma, Hope still came . Not to erase the mourning, but to join it… and eventually redeem it.

You are not alone in your heartbreak. Rachel is weeping with you. And so is the God who promised to wipe every tear.

Reflection Prompt:

What does it mean to you that God cares for the voice of a grieving mother?

Where have you felt unseen in your grief, and what might it look like to believe that God saw it all along?

Stunned by Grief

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 07 Jul 2025 12:48:54 GMT

Why?

I’ve led many support groups for those grieving murder loss, and one question that always lingers is why. We often believe that finding the answer to why will somehow ease the pain, but this is a natural illusion our minds create in an attempt to find relief. Unfortunately, the answers we long for may never come, and the healing must begin even in the absence of understanding .

If you paused here and this seems impossible, stay with me.

IF we knew why and our loved one was still murdered, would we grieve any less? Grief is a disordered process. Grief isn’t something we can neatly tuck away in a box with a bow, only to revisit when it’s convenient. It breaks through, often unexpectedly, again and again. So, how do we live with this truth ? How do we face the fear of the next “what if” and continue forward anyway?

The hard truth is, unless we squarely face the difficult, painful parts of life, we will never go through the steps necessary that give us the capacity to be more deeply human. Grief work is hard, and it's worth the price.

Letting the pain have a place, but not the whole space

Instead of demanding answers, we can ask gentler questions:

What do I need right now, in this moment?
How can I honor my loved one without losing myself?
Where can I go with this pain that feels honest and safe?

Manilla Folder

Mon, 30 Jun 2025 12:29:13 GMT

The manilla folder containing 6 dvd’s dated February 25, 2006 sits atop my dresser. It has moved from the office, to the kitchen island, to the laundry room, and to the mantle. The contents supposedly contain files and notes from the investigation. It doesn’t sit right with me that the date is February 25, 2006 when the current year is 2025 almost 20 years ago.

Why aren’t there more DVD’s? Why isn’t the case file larger? Why haven’t more notes been taken? Leads followed? License plates run down? Auto body shops listed? I spent the better part of 6 months communicating with the police department, the cold case unit and the lead detective in order to gain access to the elusive file. I’m not convinced that I have been given access to everything. Previously, corrupted files were sent along with autopsy photos, 911 recordings, and witness statements. There simply has to be more: more evidence collected, more leads run down, more suspects, more answers, but there aren’t.

I haven’t been able to bring myself to open these DVD’s. What if the detective sent another batch of corrupted files? What if there isn’t any significant work done? What if absolutely no work was done? So, I’ll wait until I have enough courage and energy to focus. It’s exhausting and draining. I’m unsure of what I will find, and I am fearful that I will find nothing.

However, in order to pursue justice for Toby, I will continue to fight .

-Claire Cunningham

The Day the Princess of Wales Knew My Name

Mon, 23 Jun 2025 13:55:35 GMT

Today, I received a letter from Her Royal Highness Catherine, The Princess of Wales.

Yes. That Catherine. I didn’t want to open it at first. The envelope was perfect—crisp edges, royal crest, my name printed on the front like something out of a dream. For a moment, I just stared at it, frozen. I wasn’t ready to open it because deep down, I knew I had no one to open it with. Let me rewind.

A few months ago, I sent the Princess a copy of my mental health guidebook. I wrote her a letter, telling her how much I admired her work with early childhood development, how deeply I respected the compassion and conviction she brings to it. I told her she embodies everything I aspire to be—a mother, a woman, an advocate.

And then I told her about my mom.

How her murder shattered my world.
How my grief gave birth to Change the Face of Depression.
How, in her absence, I made a vow to make meaning out of pain.

I never expected a reply. But today, one arrived.

And when I read her letter—my hands trembling, heart wide open—I was flooded with something I didn’t expect: loneliness. Because I didn’t know who to call. There was no one I could think of to scream with, to cry with, to say “Can you believe this happened?”

I wished on a million stars in that moment that my mother were here. Because she should’ve been the one I called first. But the cruel irony is—if she were here, I may have never written that letter at all.

Grief is funny like that. It carves out holes and fills them with purpose.

And now, because of her, the Princess of Wales knows my name.

I’m going to frame that letter. Not because of the fame or the fairytale—but because of the truth it holds: even the most unimaginable pain can lead to the most unimaginable places.

To anyone who’s lost someone, who’s felt invisible, who’s grieving with nowhere to put it—I see you. You are not small. You are not forgotten. Your story matters more than you know. It can go farther than you imagine.

Mine made it to a palace.

Thank you, Mom. You didn’t get to stay—but you planted something in me that never stopped growing.

This one’s for you.

- Casie Ellison, Founder of Change the Face of Depression (CTFOD)

June 9th

Mon, 16 Jun 2025 14:48:47 GMT

I knew it was coming just as it does every year exactly 3 days after my husband’s birthday and the same day as my steel-magnolia-of-a- best-friend: Toby’s birthday. Previous years I celebrated Toby by jumping off 100 foot platforms, white water rafting class 4 rapids, completing ropes courses, and climbing sides of mountains.

This year was different. Stillness and quiet blanketed my heart instead of wild adventures. I chose to be in the simple, everyday moments and to observe nature around me. I spent most of the day walking and talking to God and to Toby. Simple prayers of thanksgiving and gratitude for being given the gift of having an authentic, genuine brother.

Prayers asking for Toby to be with me as I walked along. Feeling Toby’s presence is a daily occurrence, but on this birthday, he showed up in a big way. I love looking at the sky when I walk, completely in awe of God’s artwork. The sky was filled with wispy, feathery clouds. Then I saw it: a heart with a rainbow prism of colors floating on top. As I spotted the heart, two dragonflies flew right in front of my nose, then upward toward the center of the heart. I laughed out loud and exclaimed, “There you are!” The neighbor mowing his lawn kept his eye on me as I stood photographing the sky and roaring with laughter. It was a good day.

Happy 49th birthday, Toby. I love you.

-Claire Cunningham

When the Pain is BIG

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 09 Jun 2025 14:56:37 GMT

Grief doesn’t come with a map or a deadline. It’s not something you “fix," it’s something you learn to carry. And if you’ve lost a child, you know this kind of grief rewrites everything. It shrinks our world completely.

Some days feel unbearable. Other days might seem calm, but a scent, a photo, or a memory knocks the wind out of you. That’s normal. That’s grief.

You are not broken, you are surviving something unimaginable.

Here are a few gentle ways to care for yourself when the weight feels too heavy (back to the basics):

1. Breathe Through the Waves

Grief often comes in waves and it’s okay to let them come. Take deep, slow breaths. Sometimes, all you need to do is breathe your way through the next moment.

2. Let It Out in a Safe Way

You don’t have to hold it all in. Cry. Journal. Pray. Talk. Scream into a pillow. Let the pain move instead of staying stuck inside you.

3. Don’t Do It Alone

Even if no one else “gets it,” find someone who will sit with you in your pain not fix it, just be with you. A support group, a trusted friend, or a grief counselor can make all the difference.

4. Make Space for Rest and Nourishment

Grief is exhausting. Feed your body. Drink water. Sleep when you can. These aren’t small things they’re survival steps.

5. Create a Way to Honor Your Child

Whether it’s lighting a candle, creating a memory box, planting a tree, or simply speaking their name honoring their life is part of healing.

You don’t have to be strong every day. You don’t have to “move on.”
You just have to keep showing up for yourself, one breath, one moment at a time.

And on the days you can’t even do that, let me remind you:

You are not alone. You are deeply loved. And your child will never be forgotten.

When the Boxes Multiply: Living with Layered Grief

Mon, 02 Jun 2025 12:12:10 GMT

Expanding the Ball in the Box Theory to Make Room for Real Life

When I first heard the Ball in the Box theory, it changed the way I saw grief.

The metaphor goes like this: Grief is like a ball inside a box.

Inside that box is a pain button. In the beginning, the ball is so big it’s constantly pressing that button. Over time, the ball gets smaller. It still hits the button, but less often. The pain is still there, but it doesn’t consume every second of every day.

It helped me understand the waves. The triggers. The gut punches that come out of nowhere. It gave me language for something invisible.

But as I sat with it longer, I started to notice something missing.

The Ball in the Box theory assumes you’re grieving one thing. One loss. One story. One box.

What if you’re carrying ten? My life isn’t defined by a single loss.

There’s the loss of my mother, which will never not be a sharp ache. There’s the grief of divorce — two, actually — and everything I thought those relationships would be.

There are friendships that slipped away, the parts of me I outgrew, and the pieces I thought I’d get back but never did. There’s the version of life I imagined before the trauma. And there’s the version I’m still figuring out how to live in now.

Each of these losses has its own box. Its own ball. Its own pain button.

Sometimes, they all rattle at once.

There are days it feels like I’m walking around with a stack of grief boxes balanced in my arms, praying I don’t drop one.

Other days, it feels like a few of them have already fallen, burst open, and I’m standing in the mess trying to act like I’m fine.

And still, I keep going. I keep loving. I keep healing.

This is what most people don’t see when they picture grief.

They expect the pain to be tied to a single event. To have a timeline. To shrink on schedule.

But layered grief doesn’t work that way.

Sometimes, healing from one loss makes you feel another more deeply.

Sometimes, joy opens a door to unexpected sadness.

Sometimes, you’re celebrating one thing and grieving another, in the exact same moment.

What I’ve learned is this: You don’t have to earn your grief. You don’t have to justify it.

Whether it’s fresh or old. Whether it’s about a death, a breakup, a betrayal, or a dream that slipped through your fingers. If it hurts, it matters.

Your grief is valid, even if someone else doesn’t understand it.

Even if it’s invisible.

Even if you can’t find the words for it yet.

If you’re carrying more than one box, I want you to know you’re not alone.

You’re not dramatic. You’re not behind. You’re not too much.

You’re a human being living through real life, with a heart that’s been stretched and reshaped by loss.

The boxes may always be there. But with time, with tenderness, with the right support, the weight gets easier to carry. And you get better at holding them with grace.

- Survivor & Mental health advocate, Casie Ellison

Surfacing

Mon, 26 May 2025 12:12:20 GMT

Tuesday, my daughter was followed by a suspicious car while taking our pup for an evening

walk. My phone lit up with her text message,

“Help! Weird car.”

I sprinted out of the front door running toward where I thought she was, while my husband and

son took off in the car. We were going to find her.

Reunited in the kitchen we huddled and hugged. We stood in silence. We stood in the stillness

praising God that she was in our arms. I hugged her so long and hard that she had to ask me to

stop.

Eventually, we were able to recount every minute detail. I turned into (an all too familiar)

furiously focused momma bear detective determined to make sure this situation never

happened again.

Police were called, neighbors reviewed footage from outside cameras, posts were made on the

neighborhood page, and pepper spray was purchased.

…then I found myself huddled in my office (also known as the laundry room) weeping, drowning in fear, brimming with anger, and overwhelmed with anxiety.

I was reliving the trauma that derailed my world 19 years ago.

The anxiety, fear, rage, anger, disbelief, and questions relentlessly crashed into me. Listening as authorities told me there was nothing that could be done, yet reassuring my family that everything would be ok.

I have disciplined myself to walk straight into each emotion in order to face each one. This will

be a lifelong process: no cutting corners, no denial, no withdrawing . It must be done so that my heart continues to heal and my mind can rest.

-Survivor, Claire Cunningham

Every Holy Moment

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 19 May 2025 12:34:25 GMT

Holy Moments. It is hard to imagine moments being holy in the pain a survivor of murder endures. The unknown of the who, why, and sometimes even how. I lived for years waiting to know how many times my dad was shot and where. So many questions prevented me from some of the holy moments around me.

This past week, I graduated and my dad was not there, again. He missed another moment and another celebration. Every moment, I look up and I imagine him there. He was one of my biggest cheerleaders. I remember him here but that is fading every big moment at a time. Almost 17 years later, and he missed so many moments. God has been so good in the confusion, anger, and grief. I know he has been with me all along, and most of all he SEES the pain and has compassion. He does not leave us in the painful moments, he makes them HOLY . God is the ONLY thing that makes sense in the unknown and pain.

A friend of mine got me a grief devotional and I wanted to share an excerpt with you all:

I surely cannot change what happened.

Or make sense of it.

Or find some lesson in it.

Or force the wheels of justice

to spin to a satisfying end. And so I am left feeling

vulnerable, and violated, and helpless.

Be my refuge and my shelter, O Lord. Be my shield

and defender. Hold me in this hour; hold me through

this long, dark night when death’s shadow obstructs the light;

cradle and carry me through this vale of sorrows; deliver me

to higher ground. Let justice roll down, O Christ.

Lift my head that I might see new evidence of your

mercies in my life. I am too weak to walk this path alone,

or to power through by force of my own will.

I know, O God, that you would have me be completely honest

in my words to you, voicing even these discouragements

and volatile emotions. And you are more than able to bear

their weight, never wavering in your constant love and care

for me. For you, O God, watched one you love die violently—

your only son. You sympathize with me. So I will freely speak

to you the depths of what I feel.

Bittersweet

Mon, 12 May 2025 12:30:14 GMT

“Happy Mother’s Day” is an expression that evokes tremendous emotions for those of us on this side of Heaven. I am spending Friday with my daughter foraging and hiking. Saturday, my son and I will support Charlotte FC as they play Nashville FC. Sunday we will share dinner with Mom. The sadness and immense sadness that I carry becomes crippling on holidays, so I prepare for these emotions by walking straight into the pain and anguish.

I allow them to wash over me as I invite them to enter my heart. It’s a controlled burn. Every season without Toby is painful, but spring and early summer offer a tremendous sting anniversaries, birthdays, Mother’s Day. Mom is so very brave in the face of it all. I am so angry that she has to be, but I am proud of her for continuing to put one foot in front of the other at her own pace, in her own time.

Mother’s Day isn’t exactly happy; it’s a swirling mix of happiness and sadness as we relive memories and imagine what life would be like if Toby was here. Either way, we are thankful for the brief time we had. Learning to live without Toby is an education none of us signed up for, but here we are figuring it out one step, one holiday, one tear at a time.

-Claire Cunningham

To a Bereaved Mother

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 05 May 2025 12:13:09 GMT

This coming Mother's day was made for mothers' hearts,
But yours is torn in shattered parts.
Not by time, or fate, or chance—
But by a cruel, unchosen hand.

They speak of joy and breakfast trays,
While you remember darker days.
The sirens, silence, final breath—
The sudden, senseless grip of death.

Yet here you stand, still mother-strong,
Still holding love where they belong.
Their name lives on in how you speak,
In every tear that stains your cheek.

You are a mother—through the rage,
The courtroom, grave, or empty page.

Your child was stolen, not your bond—
Their light in you still blazes on.

So on this day, we honor you,
The mothers bearing grief so true.
Your strength, your love, your aching flame—
We speak, we whisper, say their name.

(unknown)

To all the mothers who carry grief in their hearts, we see you. You are not alone. Your love is eternal, and so is the bond you hold with your child. Your loss is not forgotten.

-Healing Roots Team

Wedding Anniversary

Mon, 28 Apr 2025 11:59:09 GMT

April 16, 2005. New Orleans in the springtime. Perfection: Crisp air, vibrant blue skies, and brilliant, intoxicating sunshine. It was your wedding day. Yesterday I opened up social media and let out a sudden breath of air as tears rolled down my face.

There you were in your tuxedo smiling that smile that caused your cheek muscles to micro-tremor because you were ‘cheesin’ too hard’. Unexpectedly, I was whisked back in time filled with a flurry of memories that my heart and mind were not prepared to view. There you were, so very handsome toasting your gorgeous bride. There you were pounding and banging on the bingo drums right along with the band.

There you were… The two of you would’ve celebrated your 20th wedding anniversary this year. You would’ve celebrated in stunning, elegant style. Initially, seeing your wedding photos left me stunned, but the initial shock quickly melted into storytelling and sharing memories of that glorious, perfect day 20 years ago. 20 years……ago. Happy Anniversary

-Claire Cunningham

Power

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 21 Apr 2025 13:23:42 GMT

Birds.
I always enjoy birds. I see them and sometimes I just watch them. They don't ask anything of me, they just exist, moving through the sky like they know where they're going; they are free.

Sometime in 2013, I was sitting in my backyard, and I heard a bird chirping. I remember hearing it as if it were the first time. It wasn’t just background noise, it was music. It felt refreshing, new, and peaceful. I hadn't experienced that kind of stillness, that moment of presence, since my dad died in 2008.

Grief is strange like that. It doesn’t just hit you once. It lingers, reshapes you, hides in your bones. I numbed so much of myself with anger. Anger became my armor. It felt easier than pain.

Justice became my hope. I thought if I could just know; know who, know why, know how, then maybe I could heal. I gave so much power to the idea of justice, to the person who took my father’s life. But in doing so, I delayed my own ability to find internal peace.

Who has the power to heal us?
Is it the courts? The truth? Time? Or do we quietly reclaim it ourselves , moment by moment—maybe in a backyard, with a bird singing a song that reminds us we're still alive?

Niece(s) and Nephew(s)

Mon, 14 Apr 2025 13:49:36 GMT

Tomorrow your niece presents her scientific research as a collaboration with her professors. Next week she will perform on the Lyra and trapeze. Tomorrow your nephew competes in Powerlifting America’s High School National championship. You would’ve been their biggest fan. You would’ve wanted to be included in every aspect of training and research, travel and strategy, ‘pre-game’ focus and ‘post-game’ celebrations.

Competing was your thing. You were a stealthy, witty, stoic, skilled, and strategic competitor. You were fearless and so very friendly. You encouraged everyone and anyone to join in the ‘game’. My kids have your focus, wit, athleticism, and competitiveness. They are smart, rational and strategic just like you. I can hear your voice encouraging and chanting them forward. I close my eyes and imagine your contorted body language as you anxiously and nervously watch the kids compete. You would’ve had children of your own.

The joy I would’ve had cheering for my niece(s) and nephew(s). I would’ve been ‘that’ Taunte Claire who made glittery posters and whose voice trilled with whooping howls of encouragement. My niece(s) and nephew(s) would’ve known their Taunte Claire was in the venue. Toby, I see you in my children. My heart is swollen with pride and gratitude. Your niece and nephew are your legacy. Oh, how I wish we could’ve shared these precious moments together, but we can’t. So, I’ll continue to bring your memory with me. I love you.

-Claire Cunningham

The Drive

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 07 Apr 2025 13:06:54 GMT

My dad was shot and killed in a quaint neighborhood. It is the type of place that kids run around and the neighbors know each other. That is how I imagined it 16 years ago anyways. There is something I do sometimes. I take a drive.

Sometimes I go to that area and drive the route I think my dad drove the night he was killed. I drive slow and just wonder to myself what went wrong? Who did he see? Who saw him? What happened? Was he scared? What were his last thoughts? All of these questions flood me in these moments. Then I get to the road he lived on. The road he never made it to again.

I consider where he would be now. Would he still be renting this little place? Or would he be in a independent living home? Probably not. That thought makes me laugh. My dad was way too independent to live in a place like that. All of these thoughts remind me of who my dad was but also who I never got to see him become. An old man. He was taken at age 56; Which seems very young now more than ever.

I am often told about people's loved one's deaths when they lived lives before their tragic deaths. Some final thoughts are the beauty of making meaning. We must find meaning in their life to live with their death.

Making meaning from traumatic loss involves the process of reconstructing one’s understanding of the world, self, and relationships in the aftermath of profound grief. Their death, our pain, and the way we choose to move forward can be a beautiful integration. By holding both love and loss, we find strength and carry them with us.

Not (Yet) Answered

Mon, 31 Mar 2025 12:37:11 GMT

I think about you often, more often than I’d like to. Time wasted wondering where on this planet you are. Mind numbing scenarios of you fleeing to another country or residing near the scene of the murder. I wonder if you had friends in the truck. Did they implore you to stop, or did they urge you to run? I think that you had to be local because those one way streets are tricky for tourists to navigate, or were you a college student with a family name to protect? Did you circle the block of the hospital?

Were you in the crowd at the press conference? Has your mind been plagued by the image of Toby burned into your brain? Do you have night terrors? How do you explain your anxiety and anger to loved ones? Who have you told? Has the guilt ripped holes in your gut? I pray for you. I pray that your heart is softened so that you will do the right thing. I pray that if you have a family, that you are kind and loving. I pray that you forever see Toby’s face. I pray that anyone who knows what you did February 25, 2006 finds courage and bravery to tell the police.

I pray that I get to meet you, say nothing, but just look into your eyes. I will always wonder where you are. I will always think that you are hiding amongst crowds somewhere in the city thinking that your secret is safe. It doesn’t have to be that way. I pray that you have a relationship with Jesus. I hope that you have confessed murder to Him. I hope that He stirs your heart and soul to confess. I do not wish you well, instead I wish you Jesus. I will continue to pray for you. What did you do with the truck? Did you sink it? Burn it? Hide it under a tarp for nearly 2 decades?

-Claire Cunningham

The Grief Walk

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 24 Mar 2025 14:15:24 GMT

Life goes on. Quickly, I would add. Grief can cause us to feel like it’s easy to exist and hard to live.

I remember when my life was normal. I got up, I went to work, I went to college, and I was a normal 23 year old figuring out life. Then one morning at work I was told my dad was shot and killed. In one moment, whatever normalcy I knew was no longer. The first few days, people are there and concerned. Soon after, life moves on. I did not. Not at first.

I began living my life again. I remember not having a place to land with grief. I never talked about my dad very much. I never shared much about his case or his murder. It was as if that part of my life never really existed. I did not realize this until I began to open up and help others. I listened to others and it became a sudden need for me. Grief, the notion of it. Grief became the most relatable feeling for me.

I’m sharing this because grief is a walk, a run, and a journey. Murder loss is a layered, complicated road. One minute, it feels like being thrashed by hard waves; the next, like soaring in the wind.

If we blink, we miss it all—the joys, the painful moments, and grief’s need to be grieved. Injustice in murder loss creates a dual loss. Cases may find closure, but grief does not. Our grief is here to stay. Will you befriend yours?

"The only cure for grief is to grieve."

-Earl Grollman

Springtime

Mon, 17 Mar 2025 12:23:05 GMT

Live music and soccer are where I feel closest to Toby. Music was a constant in our home, either on the radio, Dad singing and playing the guitar, me practicing on the piano, Cajun music at festivals, or live music at Tipitina’s. Toby and I would always talk about latest bands, and he would fill me in on his latest favorites. Music was the background melody of our lives. Sports also bound us together.

Hours on the tennis court, or backyard games volleying, passing and shooting, or pitching and catching filled many an afternoon as children and as adults. Spring is live music and soccer season. It’s filled with outdoor concerts and marks the start of Charlotte Football Club’s soccer season. Toby and I would’ve had an amazing time singing along with the band and cheering with reckless abandon when the ball hit the back of the net, but someone selfishly and cruelly stole those opportunities.

Toby would’ve absolutely dominated in pickleball, and we would've had fierce battles on the court, but someone stole that opportunity, too. Someone out there in the world took my future with my brother blotting out opportunities of any future. Time continues moving forward, and I will move forward too by bringing Toby with me to concerts and matches, talking about him and saying his name.

I refuse to empower the opportunities stolen, instead I will create new opportunities with him in my heart. Charlotte FC won last night and sits at #3 in the table. Air guitar was played and voices were lifted during BJ Barham’s concert Tuesday. Toby was there.

-Survivor, Claire Cunningham

When the Longing Returns

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 10 Mar 2025 12:40:47 GMT

It returned. That deep yearning in our hearts for our loved ones to be here just one more moment.

I remember a time that the pain was so intense, I could not fathom it ever getting better. Everyone would say time heals all wounds but thats a lie I learned not to believe. I learned what does heal is gratitude, time, coping, and support. Most of all, honesty in my pain heals.

Leaving pickleball the other night, I had so much joy that I wanted to share it. For the first time in 12 or more years at least, I picked up the phone to call my dad to tell him all of the great things in my life. The impossibility of that hit me hard. What a lonely feeling that was. Finally, my heart caught up with my brain and the obvious truth struck me, he's dead. in reality I have no father to call because someone took that opportunity for the rest of my life.

I coped with years and songs that remind me of him. I am aware this upcoming milestone will be the third graduation my dad has been gone for. He has not witnessed me moving on and what makes me who I am. His death alone did that. These are moments out of our control. When the longing returns or lingers, when grief strikes like lightning on a stormy night, what do we have? We have memories. I leaned into his memory. Though that is fading slowly as years pass, I am fully aware of who he was for and to me. I lean into his life and the life we had with him. He will always be a part of me in the most beautiful ways because I embrace the pain AND the joy of this process. If not, we suffer. Lean into it all... it matters.

Eve

Mon, 03 Mar 2025 15:55:13 GMT

One of my absolute favorite family traditions is celebrating the night before a holiday, anniversary or birthday. We share a meal and reminisce about the year gone by. The reminiscing culminates by lighting and blowing out a candle that sits atop a cupcake, ice cream waffle cone, or cake. We celebrate the year that has passed and look forward in gratitude to the year before us.

The eve of Toby’s death hits differently. I get quiet. My earbuds work overtime blasting praise and worship music on repeat. I recall memories resulting in tears streaming down my cheeks and sometimes the opposite, side splitting laughter. Simultaneously, time slows, yet time speeds up. I close my eyes and hold precious memories of Toby close. I intentionally bring forth the memory of his hands; I feel the intentionality of his engulfing hugs. I feel the radiance of his smile, and I hear his unique chuckle accompanied with his side-eyed grin.

I hear the annoying way he cleared his sinuses, threw a baseball, called Meg (our dog), his walk, his awful (tennis) serve and backhand, and his amazing penalty kicks (soccer). So, this year, I am sitting outside under a Carolina blue sky on the eve of Toby meeting Jesus thanking the Lord for the time he gave me with my brother. I close my eyes and ask God to preserve these memories in my heart and to continue giving me signs that Toby is near.

-Claire Cunningham

The Journey

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 24 Feb 2025 13:59:36 GMT

What a journey this loss is. If I had to share one skill we develop as homicide survivors, it would be the ability to move forward and stand still simultaneously. This past Friday I had the opportunity to speak briefly on ambiguous loss. What a term! Loss with no conclusion. Simply put, we don't have answers to move forward with letting go of the case, but we have to move on and grieve the loss. It feels completely counterintuitive to the human mind.

To move forward, what does this journey look like? We do not need to know the how or why but we can strive toward the what now. Let's cover a couple of ways to cope without knowing....

Truthful surprises on this journey:

We will experience joy or relief

Our pain may get worse at times

We will experience ambushes of grief

Surviving these surprises:

Do not numb your pain

Do not chase justice or answers as the final healing

TAKE YOUR TIME

Coping with Ambiguous Loss

Acknowledge the Pain – It’s okay to grieve even without answers. Recognizing the loss—without needing closure—can help us move forward.

Find Meaning in the Uncertainty – Instead of focusing on what we don’t know, we can cherish the love and memories that remain.

Stay Connected – Seeking support from others who understand, whether through family, support groups, or counseling, helps ease the burden.

Hold Space for Hope & Healing – It’s possible to carry both hope and acceptance at the same time. We can honor our missing loved ones while also continuing to live fully.

Woods

Mon, 17 Feb 2025 13:46:00 GMT

The woods behind our childhood home were a majestic, mythical playground for Toby and I. We imagined gigantic white wolves watching us. We played endless games of hide and seek amongst the trees, and we would pretend to be spies stationed in some foreign, wild outpost. We were careless, free and so very happy. We were a duo, a team, a bonded pair.

Those memories were so very long ago, and when I bring them to mind waves of powerful emotions overwhelm me. Gratitude is now the main emotion. Emotions of gratitude weren’t always the main emotion . Instead, I would spiral and rage reaching for anything to numb the pain and anguish.

Time, that horrible shrew, has been grueling, but time, that wise teacher, has brought humility, peace, wisdom, grace, and gratitude. I miss Toby on a cellular level. He is in my bones and blood, my thoughts and my sight. I am grateful for the memories we made and the time we had together. All I know to do is to continue walking directly into the memories so that gratitude and peace will flow, and he will always be remembered.

-Survivor, Claire Cunningham

Recoil

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 10 Feb 2025 14:00:34 GMT

Life. Life always gets in the way. I remember at age 23 when my dad was killed, I was just simply living my life. I was working a lot, going to college, and having fun with friends often. I was a normal 23 year old kid. Then one Tuesday morning, I was told my dad had been shot multiple times the previous night. Just like that, life stopped. Life paused. And so did I.

I was reading a devotional the other day and it discussed recoiling during pain. How can we not? I don't know anyone personally that walks right into painful circumstances and says, "ah this is good." That Tuesday morning, a pain came that never quite went away. When we lose someone to murder, we can recall that painful moment as if it were happening again. That is trauma.

This explicit memory is important. While pain is a part of this journey, we tend to recoil when we feel it. We cannot recoil when we feel the sting from the pain. We cannot avoid the pain because leaning in is what leads us to hope, healing, and the ability to live with it all. Our sorrow is not just about our current loss, but the entirety of the loss.

I will never forget the moment I learned my dad was taken. But I also will never forget the times that brought me joy after. God turned this sorrow into something to reach others and my pain is no longer only about me. Recoiling keeps us inward, advancing forward through the process allows us to see beyond ourselves.

Three reminders:

-It is important to be with our emotions and also have breaks from them. We need space for this reality.

-Sadness is multidimensional, and recognizing how sadness and pain ebbs and flows builds trust in our ability to endure as well as gain assurance that this wont be this hard forever.

-Perspective and attitude help us.

Encouraging verse:

Trust in Christ despite struggles and pain makes the experience easier to bear.

The spirit of a man will endure sickness, but who can bear a crushed spirit.

Proverbs 18:14

Seek

Mon, 03 Feb 2025 14:10:08 GMT

Recently, I was told (by someone who loves me) that I just don’t understand the evil that people are capable of, nor do I understand the extreme evil that masquerades as truth in this world. Initially, I was stunned by such an out of touch statement, but that reaction morphed into silent, white hot anger. I slowly and deliberately uttered, “February 25, 2006.”

I choose to seek the good in people. I deliberately anticipate kindness and humility from strangers and loved ones. Most people mistake this mindset as naïveté, but it is simply choosing and seeking positivity in negative, gray spaces. Yes, evil runs rampant in this world, but so does love. I will choose love. I do not expect it in return, but I will choose to reflect His love. It is challenging some of the time; it requires discipline, boldness and perseverance.

Full transparency: If I do not choose to reflect Jesus’ love, then I will become indifferent & jaded, forever poisoned by the bitter root of hate. Toby would not want that for me, nor does Christ. Through the evil that plagues this side of Heaven, I will choose to live in His joy. I will hand my bitterness and anger over to my Savior, Jesus, and let Him seek justice. He is my hope, my salvation, and my perfect peace. He is my dwelling place. Christ’s love controls me. Amen.

-Survivor, Claire Cunningham

Purpose

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 27 Jan 2025 14:36:02 GMT

Purpose .

If you have ever spoken to me or joined our groups, you have heard the word purpose many times. Purpose is defined as the reason for which something is done, created, or exists. When we pause a moment and think of our pain and our loved ones’ death, is purpose possible?

Jeremiah 29:11 in the bible says that God knows the plans he has for us. He KNOWS the purpose long before we ever feel the sting of the pain caused. Purpose is something we can seek in the pain. It may not just come. It also does not come easy.

Purpose .

It is something we look forward to. It is something we set our eyes on, seek, AND find. My dad’s death hurt me to my core. It still makes no sense. But the meaning FROM the loss makes complete sense. When we seek meaning without bypassing the pain, THAT is where we will find true purpose.

Seek him and you will not be disappointed. (Jeremiah 29:13 MSG)

Stay the Course

Mon, 20 Jan 2025 13:33:00 GMT

Every Monday morning, I email the detective in charge of Toby’s case. Sometimes I inquire about recent activity, other times I reach out just to check in. Every single time my intention is to keep Toby Beaugh in the detective’s mind. The 2024 Cold Case Symposium was a game changer.

I had the great fortune of meeting and connecting with people who are passionate, dedicated and committed to walking alongside and lifting up surviving families and their loved one(s). Mom and I were encouraged to continue our mission to make headway in Toby’s case, to get answers from law enforcement, to continue asking questions, and to be heard.

We were encouraged to get a copy of Toby’s case file. I had no idea the can of worms that I was going to open, nor the size of the ego that I was poking. I was not going to be deterred; I was going to continue to press in order to receive the entire file. I was met with resistance and excuses, but I stayed the course. Christmas Eve I received an email containing a file with Toby’s case. Upon reviewing it, I immediately knew that information was missing. So, I sent an email. Yesterday, I received a package containing DVD’s of video footage pertaining to Toby’s case. Small victories, but information is missing.

Tomorrow morning is Monday, and I will send another email. I have learned that this process is a marathon, not a sprint. I will stay the course.

-Claire Cunningham, survivor

To be heard...

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 13 Jan 2025 13:13:57 GMT

One thing I often wish others knew is what this loss feels like on a daily basis for a survivor. I do not wish this experience on anyone but having someone's compassion and understanding of how this loss completely consumes people sometimes is important to me.

"Loss is loss" right? No. But people believe this. When my dad died, I had people tell me stories of their losses. Their experiences did not sound like mine and I was lost. How do you express how it feels to be so betrayed and violated by someone killing your loved one willingly? How do you ever express that and regain hope?

In my experience being heard comes from hearing others like you, allowing gratitude in not comparison, and simply telling our story. I have shared my dad's murder story with minor detail for 16 years and every time it opens up conversation with someone who needed to tell their story. Listening and hearing them helps me then find hope and faith that this is not the end even if painful.

Allow hope to be a part of your story. Allow your story to be heard. Allow good in....

Blindsided

Mon, 06 Jan 2025 14:13:10 GMT

Our home was so cozy and festive this Christmas season. Lighted garland hung over every doorway, mirror, bannister, and window. Wreaths adorned every door, and bells hung from every doorknob. Three Christmas trees were heavy with a ridiculous amount of sentimental ornaments, and mistletoe was strategically hung so that the ‘chef’ was always kissed. Our home isn’t sparkling anymore.

Everything has been stored. Remnants of tinsel and garland have been vacuumed; the Christmas sweater has been laundered, and the Christmas brooches have been removed from the lapels of coats. …& like clockwork my body freezes when I shockingly realize what season comes next. Pause. Full stop. Nope. Can’t do it. Mardi Gras is the next season, and all I want to do is crawl into bed and bury myself under the covers until it’s over.

Emotions are flowing differently this year because of the horrific domestic terrorist attack in New Orleans. My heart is shattered and broken for the victims and their families. All I know to do is to be still, to focus on my complete faith in Him , to cry out for peace and healing. He will bring light into the darkness. He will.

-Claire Cunningham, Survivor

Suits

Mon, 16 Dec 2024 13:52:19 GMT

The seconds, minutes, hours, and days following Toby’s murder are a hazy , confusing blur. I don’t remember much of my drive from Hattiesburg to the hospital in New Orleans. I remember very little about the drive from New Orleans to Broussard. My boyfriend, now husband, bravely and stoically stepped in to guide our family through decisions and arrangements that needed to be made.

I remember meeting the funeral director and walking out. I remember being asked about specific scriptures and songs only to find myself walking out again and again. I remember sitting on the floor of my parents living room obsessing over finding every single photo they had of Toby. I was totally useless. I kept telling myself that Toby would walk through the front door and I would ‘wake up’ and emerge from the fog.

All I wanted to do was escape, to flee, to run as fast as I could to get as far away from everyone who insisted on planning this ridiculous, unnecessary funeral. I refused to believe that Toby was dead. Despite seeing his broken body in the hospital, I refused to believe that he was gone. I was tasked with bringing Toby’s suit, shirt and tie to the funeral director. I certainly don’t remember the drive, but I vividly remember crawling into the backseat and clinging to Toby’s suit as it hung on the hanger.

Time slowed, tears flowed, and Toby and I talked . I begged him to come back. I told him to always be with me. I told him to always find ways to let me know that he is with me. Toby’s tear stained suit eventually made it to the funeral director, but I haven’t any idea how. He has kept his backseat promise of finding clever ways to show me that he is always with me

-Survivor, Claire Cunningham

Another Year

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 09 Dec 2024 13:07:33 GMT

Another year has passed. I celebrated a birthday recently. I still looked at my phone at 6am and remembered my dad's call. He would always try to be the first to say happy birthday. And if I am honest, in a way, he will always still be because he gets the first for so many things in my life.

He is first to celebrate with me, first to be sad and cry with me, and has a front row to every part of my life. This is true because he lives in me and through me. He still is my best friend in many ways. No, I know what you may be thinking. He is not here so 'its not the same' right? But while that is logically true, when we allow our perspective of grief and pain to shift to what is possible, beautiful things happen.

Everyone reading this has a unique relationship with their loved one and whoever killed them is not allowed to hold the power of changing that relationship. Their memory, meaning in your life, and who they were was not murdered. They live even in the pain of the loss, the joy in the new life thats being developed, and all of the in between. Let them show up.

All Too Well

Mon, 02 Dec 2024 13:35:25 GMT

I remember everything about that frozen moment in time all too well. Sometimes I can recall everything in detail; other times I cannot remember a thing. Some memories are crystal clear as if happening in real time. Some memories are hazy and fuzzy despite my best efforts to remember. The remembering hits differently this time of year.

Cooler temperatures and barren trees represent moving deeper into a new season. I love it. I hate it. I am sad; my sleep is restless; I am a master daydreamer and cloud gazer. I am quieter; I want to sleep; I isolate and retreat into the corner of the couch losing myself in documentaries or audio books that are about the holocaust, true crime, survivor, and memoir related. I am heavy; I am in my head; I am without a smile, grin or laugh. All I can think about is being transported with my family back in time to relive holidays when Toby was alive. …but that’s not living, nor is it realistic.

So, I will fill my home with lights this Christmas season as a reminder that light overcomes the darkness. I will cast my sorrows at the feet of Christ who is the light of the world. He will turn my melancholy into joy. My heart will be light. I will sing songs of worship because he carries me through deep waters. “Because of God’s tender mercy, the morning light from Heaven is about to break upon us, to give LIGHT to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, and to guide us to the path of peace.” Luke 1:78-79

-Survivor, Claire Cunningham

Surfing

Mon, 18 Nov 2024 13:56:05 GMT

Recently, I’ve been slowly drowning in a turbulent sea of confusion, frustration, loneliness, anxiety, and sadness. I get lost rambling inside my head replaying countless memories. This happens every single year right around this time- the transition into the holiday season. So, I hold on. I hold onto the glorious smells, the joyful celebrations, the infectious laughter, the busy-ness of the kitchen, the smiling faces, and the never-ending bear hugs.

Sadness grips me for a while, but He pulls me out and walks with me right through the tsunami of despair. I am able to walk through with confident hope because I am not alone. He protects me from the paralyzing lies that fear and anxiety try to project. He comforts me with memories that stir joyful emotions. I used to hold on tightly in a feeble attempt to ride each crashing wave of sadness, but this season I’m going surfing. He is going to surf each wave with me. I will be able to hang ten because of His promise to bring peace to my weary soul.

- Claire Cunningham

Connected

Mon, 04 Nov 2024 13:02:39 GMT

Where I’m from people try to figure out how they know one another. We will explore every possibility and combination of events, ancestors and locations in order to determine a common denominator. Questions such as, “Who’s your momma?”, “What’s your maiden name?”, “What’s your Dad’s name?”, “Where’d you go to school?”, and “Are you related to the so-and-so’s from such and such small town?” Eventually the link will be discovered and everyone will walk away having discovered they’re second cousins twice removed. Recently, Mom and I had a unique opportunity to be in the presence of beautiful souls at the 2024 Case Symposium in Jacksonville. We didn’t need to speak a word because everyone knew the common denominator.

There’s a familiar comfortability and peace when you’re in the presence of others who can empathize without having to explain a thing. We were amongst complete strangers who totally understood our story, and we understood theirs. Connections were made, support was found, and everyone was seen, heard, acknowledged, and recognized.

We returned home having established new friendships and connections made in order to hopefully move the needle towards determining answers. We are beyond thankful for complete strangers and amazing friends who met us exactly where we are and freely offered their wisdom, compassion, insight, and hope. We are forever grateful to have been seen and heard in an environment that was emotionally stable and safe. Thank you.

-Survivor, Claire Cunningham

Remembered

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 28 Oct 2024 13:28:28 GMT

Tomorrow is my dad's 16th birthday since he died. This would have been his 73rd birthday. So many moments I remember what was and yearn for what should be. A friend of mine asked me recently, "How are you doing as we approach the 29th?" I responded that I am okay, that I wish I could see him age, and this year will look different. We went on to chat more. Grief evolves. I told her, through the years, I think where I’m at in my grief is that I don’t remember a lot of things about him at this point. What makes my heart saddest with this reality is that I was never given the chance to get to know things that I probably never knew before like his favorite songs or childhood memory. Little Things like that I’ll never know and this is yet another tiny funeral. Tomorrow I will celebrate my dad's birthday like I always do with such gratitude for the years we had and I will choose to remember him even when this requires me to welcome the sadness and pain caused by his murder.

I will end this with one of my favorite memories of my dad.

We would always ride bikes and one time we rented a tandem bike and rode together. My favorite times wiht him were riding bikes. I miss him and I wish he was here but until I see him again, I will continue to ride ad live my life to the fullest for him.

Happy 73rd birthday DAD!

Birthday

Mon, 21 Oct 2024 12:04:54 GMT

Well, here it is. The day has come. My birthday. The intoxicating, sweet, sugary smell of birthday cake, the house decked out in balloons and banners, the birthday outfit, and the celebratory family birthday meal are all things that I look forward to. I absolutely love celebrating birthdays. I adore our family tradition of celebrating the day before by recounting the events of the previous year. We celebrate the blessings of the year that has launched us into this new year. However, there is a pit of sadness deep within my soul every single birthday.

I will not get a ridiculous, sarcastic, hysterical, pop cultures birthday card from Toby, nor will I get a phone call at an absurd hour asking to speak with the birthday big sister. So, I sit in sadness for a tiny bit reminiscing of birthdays past and am instantly brought back into joy. Toby always finds a way to pull me out of melancholy and make me smile. Usually, it’s a song…like right now Bob Dylan is wailing in my ear buds, or a bright orange streak brightens the morning skyline. I smile. I allow a tear to run down my cheek, and I remind myself that Tobs is here. He is in my heart and he is with me… and it’s 8:09 am.

-Claire Cunningham

Expressing the unexpressed

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 14 Oct 2024 11:58:59 GMT

Grief demands so much from us. It needs us to see it, hear it, FEEL it. When someone we love dies it is very easy to get sucked into a belief system that causes self-condemnation and judgement. The truth is that we cannot heal and accept a loss when we are judging ourselves with shame and guilt. Grief needs to be explored and discovered. Accepted.

Judgment demands punishment. Punishment in grief will cause someone great suffering. We can begin to punish ourselves for the normalcy of what we are feeling or things we have done. I did not call my dad the day he was killed.

If only I had called him. I had to accept that even if I had called him, he would still be dead. The one person to control that was his killer. We must begin to admit these small truths and allow healing in to befriend our grief. Let it in. Let it be.

REFLECTION: Below are prompts to help explore acceptance. This does not condone what has happened but simply helps you express the grief.

If I accept this loss, one thing I would change is….

If I accept this loss, I would have the freedom to…

If I accept this loss, I would worry less about…

If I accept this loss, I would feel hopeful about…

If I accept this loss, one thing I would change is…

God's Country

Mon, 07 Oct 2024 14:32:31 GMT

‘God’s Country’, that's what Toby called it. I certainly thought that he was referring to some amazing place that he visited- a beautiful vista or a jaw dropping landscape in some far off land. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Toby was talking about Broussard, Louisiana, our hometown.

I was puzzled that our tiny little town was being described in such a way. Honestly, I was baffled. So, I took the bait and asked Toby to explain why in the world he would describe Broussard in such a way. “Simple,” he said, “because it is home.” It is the place where we rode our bikes to Grandma’s and Grandpa’s house, dug an immense hole in the backyard trying to get to China, played ‘horse’ in the driveway, and helped Dad change oil in the Toyota. It’s the place where we went to the same school as Mom and my grandmother. It is full of our heritage and traditions. Broussard holds all of our core memories. It is where we can return and are completely understood. It’s a place where people can figure out who you are by asking, “Who’s your Momma? Where’d you go to school?”

God’s country of Broussard changed for me after Toby’s murder. Returning home brought such immense pain and agony that I avoided it. Toby’s body is buried in God’s country, but I know that he is not there. Toby is in God’s true country in the Kingdom of Heaven. It is in God’s heavenly ‘country’ that I will find Toby. I am promised that I will join Toby in God’s country, in God’s timing. When that time comes we will dance and sing, laugh and rejoice. I can only imagine the reunion we will have when we meet again in God’s Country of Heaven.

Million little funerals

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 30 Sep 2024 13:07:20 GMT

My first in depth experience with personal loss was murder. When I think of that I get sad. Murder loss is like no other. It is layered deep. A week from today is my dad's 16 year anniversary of his death. I remember it all like it was yesterday. The week, the last time I saw him, the night before, the day I found out, all of it is etched in my brain forever. Grief is the gift that never stops giving.

Grief is made up of a million little funerals. When we move forward in life, it is another little loss and burial. I have accomplished great things in my life but it is all directly tied to the biggest pain in my life. I have buried a lot of things to find meaning in one of the most painful things I will ever experience. Grief and tiny little funerals will not end. A hurricane washed away a friend's favorite spot she held with her late brother. That is another tiny funeral for her. We feel it, bury it, and wait for the next.

When grief knocks, let it in. What is numb will come alive when we allow it to. There is nothing that will change the pain that has been caused or our loved one's being gone. Grief must be allowed in for any hope, joy, or love to continue on through the pain. Allow the tiny burials to come and go. Catch and release.

REFLECTION: These are a few things that help us catch and release and find some sort of healing in the midst of what is unchangeable.

Acknowledge what is and what isn’t.

State out loud what disappoints you and how unfair the whole situation feels.

Give yourself permission to cry as many tears as you need to.

Allow yourself some time to feel sad and to grieve.

Cry out loud what you’re releasing.

Say aloud what this new space allows you to receive. (I want, I need..)

Commit to setting and maintaining good boundaries with self and others.

Conduct another funeral when needed.

Bring it all to Jesus.

HEAL

Dishes

Mon, 23 Sep 2024 12:05:10 GMT

Trey, my husband, was out of town; the kiddos were at preschool, and I had just returned home from spin class. I went about my usual routine of rounding up toys, washing dirty clothes, wiping down counters and vacuuming away remnants of that morning's breakfast. As I was loading the last dish into the dishwasher, I caught a reflection of myself in the window along with the fleur de lis painting that hung in the kitchen.

Anger enveloped me. Physically I raged; mentally I crumbled; emotionally I burned. The dishes bore the brunt of my fury as I unloaded and hurled them one by one into the dishwasher. Every plate and bowl hit the back of the dishwasher and shattered. I found myself on the floor just as shattered as the dishes.

Why couldn’t I call Toby and talk about the kids' latest shenanigans or holiday plans, or talk football, or music, or school, or weekend plans, or our next trip? I just wanted to talk to him; I wanted to catch up and hear his voice. I was lost in a maze of ‘why’. Clearly, I needed help. I chose to share with a trusted friend. She came right over, held my hand, listened, and fervently prayed over me. She built me up through scripture and prayed for hedges of protection over me. I am forever grateful. Nearly two decades have passed. I do not ask ‘why’ anymore.

Instead, I talk to Toby just like he is here. We have conversations every morning around 8:09 am, or when I find myself daydreaming and looking up in awe of the clouds, or when I can’t sleep. I keep him alive by talking to him and talking about him. If I didn’t, then he would fade and not be with me, and I refuse to let that happen.

Memories

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 16 Sep 2024 11:58:42 GMT

I like a variety of shows. I watch things that involve deep grief and deep love. This may seem like a different post but go with me. One show I enjoy a lot had an episode recently about deep grief. In the episode was a woman who lost the love of her life suddenly. We know that sudden feeling all too well, don't we? In the episode, she finds it extremely difficult to let go and grieve. She sees him everywhere, hears him, and yearns for him in a way that is difficult for her to continue on. A friend of hers shares concern for her stating "Are you getting through or pressing pause?" Later in the same episode she finds a way to be compelled to forget him and her love for him. This compulsion completely changed her memories of him.

Though this is a completely impossible tactic, I found this to be interesting. We know logically there is not a way for us to be compelled to forget our loved one, their life or death, and the pain their murder caused. We also cannot be compelled to just move on. Our love cannot be stifled in order to grieve. Our memories are very much alive. This grief is deep and painful but does not have to pause our lives. There is a before and an after, a chapter one and a chapter two. How would you like to live your next chapter? I would give a lot to see my dad again or never lose him but him coming back or any justice at all doe not change that my life is worth living and not being paused.

So I ask you to reflect on this question as I did when I heard it on the show: Are you just getting through or pressing pause? REMEMBER: Take time to answer this. There is no right or wrong way to grieve or move forward but being honest with the reality of the grief is the only way through.)

This Time of Year

Mon, 09 Sep 2024 12:20:21 GMT

I am not sure if it’s the cooler temperatures, the start of football season, changing leaves, yellow school buses on the roads, or the appearance of fall and Halloween decorations, but this time of year hurts . September rolling into October has a way of slowly pushing me into a dense fog of sadness. I will forever associate June, July and August as some of the best summers of traveling with Toby as young adults. June, July and August were thrilling summer months of adventuring and camping as kids. June, July and August were ours . September signals the end of those glorious days.

October brings another birthday without receiving a super goofy, but much anticipated, card from Toby. October brings another Halloween without clever Halloween costumes or watching ESPN game day or tailgating. So, over the years, I have gradually chosen to be brave when this time of year cycles through. This season comes every year threatening to loom over me like an ominous, dark shadow. I choose to be brave and face the darkness that brings so much sadness . I have learned to lean on my precious circle of friends and therapist, get outside, write through the tears, and exercise. I will ferociously decorate for Halloween and wear a clever costume, tailgate, cheer on the team, and laugh as I blow out the candles.

-Claire Cunningham

Love Remains

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 02 Sep 2024 10:34:41 GMT

Finding Love in What is Left Behind

I once read an article that started with a quote that said: “To deny the feelings of loss that suffuse so many lives right now, or to deny the validity of those feelings, risks turning pain into suffering.”

This statement is powerful. Our story is powerful to those who listen to it. We often hold onto the death of our loved one and forget to LIVE. living incudes telling about their lives, telling our story of pain, and finding some sort of meaning in the pain. We can never make their murder have meaning, but their life does have meaning. What we do with pain has meaning. We must not lose love, we must not harden in pain and forget how to love and let love in. I will leave you with the rest of this article that was so touching to me.

"The human race has a tainted and war-torn history. Hurt, evil and pain have marked our years. At times, the ruins are all that we can see. But like a crack in the sidewalk, between the layers of darkness, light always seeps in, a root takes hold and right there in the cement, a flower grows. Love remains. God is love. So as long as He sits on the throne, love will remain. Through war, through prejudice, through tears and pain, no matter how dark and desperate our world becomes, love cannot be conquered. Love conquers. And love will be what’s standing when all else has faded away."

(Unknown)

REFLECTION: In what ways can you live more? We can allow this to destroy us or we can allow this to change us in a way we have power over it, we get the choice.

809

Mon, 26 Aug 2024 11:54:30 GMT

Ever since Toby’s murder I often find myself standing at the kitchen island wrapping up time with Jesus only to stare at the numbers 8:09 on my phone. Tears well up, my throat tightens, sometimes my hands cover my mouth in surprise, but I always end up laughing hard and loud.

Toby and I played sports all of our lives. If we were playing a sport that required a jersey, then Toby was always number 9, and I was always number 8. That’s just how it was. The reasons are many, but the main one is that the numbers are the dates of our birth. Sometimes it’ll happen at Bank of America Stadium while I’m supporting Charlotte Football Club. I’ll glance at the big board and it’ll read 8:09 or 9:08 until game time or total minutes played. Other times, I’ll be in the car singing along to Bob Dylan, Jack Johnson, the Redstick Ramblers, or the Michot Brothers and I’ll see 8:09 or 9:08 on an analog clock or music playlist countdown. Sometimes it’s the number on a stopwatch, other times 809 or 908 will be on license plates or the bold numbers of a street address.

Every time, I stop and say out loud, “Hey, Tobs! I love you. You’re here! I miss you.” Every time I pause to take in the moment and to feel the emotions as they wash over me. One might say that I am conditioned to search for the numbers 8 and 9, that I look for them. Regardless, I find comfort bringing Toby to the forefront of my thoughts. I am able to bring him into the moment with me. He is enthusiastically cheering with me at a soccer match, or studying the Word, or singing aloud with the windows down. It's 8:05 am. I’m going to get another cup of matcha, turn on some tunes and look forward to 8:09.

-Claire Cunningham

The Pain Iceberg

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 19 Aug 2024 12:44:48 GMT

When "I am Fine isn't true."

I remember when my dad died, I was so lost. There are so many emotions we feel after a violent loss. People asked questions that did not feel supportive. Either they were asking for murder information updates OR they would compare their normal losses to my dad being shot to death. It was very difficult to know how to voice what I was feeling because it was such a lonely loss. Like an iceberg, people can only see the tip of what we feel when we keep a "public" face hiding behind a painful "I am fine." We learn to hide our grief for various reasons. Later on, I found a way to say what I needed with the right people. Our grief and pain is not safe with just anyone.

this post is focused on a journal reflection time that is a good exercise to process some painful feelings this loss brings up for you.

REFLECTION: If you could tell people something, tell them what is true about grief and love and loss. What is something they dont know? Something they cant know? What would that be? What would you say if you were to tell the truth about your pain? (potential prompts below)

What you don't know is.....

What doesn't show is.....

What I struggle with most is.....

Of course I am sad.....

Of course I am angry.....

Of course I have changed.....

Hardened Heart

Mon, 12 Aug 2024 13:06:13 GMT

When there are other options...

It would be so very easy to shut down, withdraw, retreat, bow out, lock doors, and bury myself under covers surrounded only by drawn shades and blackout curtains. I could submit to blocking out sunshine and laughter, joy and smiles. It would be so effortless to simply slip into indifference and isolation… but that is not a viable option .

Possessing and submitting to a hardened heart is one of my greatest fears. Handing my heart over to bitterness and anger allowing darkness to consume my joyous, vibrant heart is tempting, but I refuse to lean into that option. Toby lives in my heart. He is alive and well there. If I gave into the darkness, then Toby’s life would be forever blotted out. No way will I allow that to happen.

I persevere only by turning to Jesus for His strength and power because He has claimed victory over the darkness that wants to take hold of my heart. Jesus has claimed my heart, and I willingly give it to Him so that I will live peacefully in His light. My heart is full because I keep Toby there. He is in my every heartbeat so that I can keep him alive. “He can and will give us new hearts, new desires, and new spirits.” Hebrews 3:12-14 NLT “…TODAY when you hear His voice, don’t harden your hearts.” Hebrews 4:7 NLT

-Claire Cunningham

The Big Emotions

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 05 Aug 2024 12:35:54 GMT

When Truth is Hard to Find

When I was a kid we went to church every week. I loved it. As an adult, I was always thankful that my parents showed us Jesus early on. While I am aware this is not everyone's story or belief, this is a part of grief for me. When someone we lvoe is killed violently, there are a lot of big emotions left behind. Guilt, shame, sadness, anger, and more guilt. In the mom's support group guilt seemed common WHILE also realizing there is nothing that we could do different to change the outcome. The evidence is lacking in blame. Yet, we still take on these burdens.

In Jesus, these big emotions have eternal meaning and purpose. I learned later on in my grief that my anger was protecting me from the wrong things. If I remain angry that nobody gets it, or cares, then I lose out on what could be EVEN IF I feel the way I do. Grief and pain cannot be dictators of how life will be, but indicators that adjusting and finding purpose is possible. In all of our "if only" thoughts and pleas, we can also recognize that our cry for help is being heard by the one true God. The one who can do ANYTHING with our pain and cries.

No matter what you believe or who you worship, grief and pain can be managed with grace, love, and gratitude. Searching for the goodness, appreciating what was, and allowing the big feelings for what should be will push you forward. Everyday is a choice to push forward through the valley of feelings to the hills of possibility of purpose. Keep moving forward. Your cries for help are not going unheard.

REFLECTION: Journal your cries. Journal your hurt. Journal your gratitude. (I will always say it all matters).

Vacation Planning

Mon, 29 Jul 2024 12:28:46 GMT

What was Supposed to Be Isn't

Growing up, I was absolutely certain that my brother and I would graduate college, find true love, get married to our sweethearts, and start families. My family and Toby’s family would celebrate holidays at my parents home, take summer beach trips, and winter trips to the mountains. Our children would grow up together and be the best of friends. Our families would thrive together forever. My picture perfect dreams never got the chance to come to fruition. Toby was murdered a few months before his 30th birthday and before his one year wedding anniversary.

My family of origin shattered and splintered into a million microscopic pieces. We would flounder and gasp trying to live in an existence that we did not want to be part of. We would cease to rebuild and function as we once did. For years I was bitterly jealous. I would angrily watch extended families celebrating summer together at the beach as they played sand soccer and ventured out past the breakers. I retreated and withdrew into a dark, hopeless place in my mind. I would obsess trying to answer the unanswerable question, “Why?!” …but God. God rallied for me. He continued to throw life lines until I finally grasped hold. He introduced me to friends who loved me in my darkness.

He sent numerous trauma therapists and sat with me in the ashes as I did the work . He brought my beloved husband. He provided a way for us to have a family. Daily I make a conscious decision to prevent the bitter root from taking hold of my heart. Today when I see extended families vacationing I feel a twinge of jealousy, but I am mostly happy for them. I choose to focus on childhood vacations taken long ago with Toby, Mom & Dad. I will never have the sort of family vacations I dreamed of, but I do have precious cherished memories that I am making with my family. Toby is always with us.

-Claire Cunningham

What is Grief?

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 22 Jul 2024 12:28:53 GMT

Grief is in Everything

Grief is a universal natural response to all types of loss. And the more I research it, the more I realize that grief is in everything. Moving to a new job, new house, kids growing up, break up or divorce, you name it, there is an element of loss. Grief is everywhere. I once read a quote that said "Grief is love persevering" and I couldn't agree more. Grief hurts because we love those we lost. Murder loss hurts because we know someone chose to end the life of someone we love deeply. The deeper the love and attachment, the more intense the grief.

Most sessions and conversations I hold space for regarding murder loss often includes one's desire for fairness, justice, understanding, and a sadness that feels stuck in suffering. I began researching this depth. I began wondering more deeply on the matter of why we feel this depth of sadness, confusion, and loss. We as a society spend a lot of time trying to fix grief and the pain goes unnoticed, invalidated, and dismissed. We must learn to listen to it. Listen to OUR pain, and other's pain. Sadness and anger in grief are NOT stuck, it is love surviving. There is a deep absence when someone we love is taken. One minute they were there and the next they weren't. THIS deserves to be seen and listened to, not ignored.

REFLECTION: In what ways has your pain been corrected or unheard? How do you hear your own pain and listen to your grief? Write down these answers and explore what you need more of for the pain to be seen and heard.

Showing Up

Mon, 15 Jul 2024 13:15:16 GMT

When showing up for others seems easier...

Showing up is ingrained in my heart; it’s automatic, reflexive, instinctual. Being there, making myself available, and being present are spaces where I reside. The problem is that I was more comfortable sitting in the ashes with others before facing the heap of emotions and pain swept under the rug. I was so lost and emotionally derailed that I thought, perhaps if I kept showing up for others that I would find myself.

Instead, He found me. He faithfully showed up and taught me to be present in my feelings by naming them. Anger, fear, loneliness, and bitterness were named, labeled and nailed to His cross. He was and is patient, full of grace and mercy. He sits in the ashes with me pulling me closer especially when I obstinately push away. No longer do I push Him away. He shows up and washes me in tranquil peace that only He can provide.

Recently I witnessed and participated in survivors showing up for one another. He was there. Joy, grief, pain, laughter, and peace radiated from the room where these brave, courageous women showed up for themselves and one another. Tears flowed, hands were held, hugs were shared as the hands and feet of Jesus showed up and lit up the event space with glorious, healing love. Jesus will faithfully show up on time . Amen! Hallelujah!

-Claire Cunningham

Holding on

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 08 Jul 2024 12:07:55 GMT

While Letting Go

When I was 7 or so I often went on a bike rides with my brother and my dad. This was a norm and is a very fond memory for me. We would ride around a lake that was down a steep hill with rocks and alligators (or so I heard). One day my dad said left and I chose right. I was riding so fast down this steep hill with what felt like no point of return. I was so scared because I could not stop my bike. I had no control of how to stop or where I was heading. Isn't this much like grief?

We have so many feelings and no control over grief. When my dad died I did not know anyone who knew how I felt. NOT one person knew the pain that I was feeling with the exception of my family members but even then its different. I was angry for a lot of years. On my healing journey, I learned early on that anger is secondary and often is telling me only part a story.

Emotions are like the check-engine light on a car. They don’t tell us exactly what’s wrong, but they alert us that something under the hood needs our attention. As we’re healing from trauma and grief, it’s important to recognize what we are feeling, but we need to remember that emotions don’t tell the whole story—and they don’t always tell the truth. Grief hurts, murder loss hurts deeply, and our story after our loss is up to us. What story do we want our pain to tell? Revenge? hatred? Anger? Rage? All of these matter but in the end we suffer based on the narrative we choose to form from our pain. Remember every emotion matters, where we remain matters more.

Hands

Mon, 01 Jul 2024 11:37:22 GMT

My memory of Toby’s face is fading. His image seems to be disappearing from my mind's eye. I turn to photos, but I want to remember Toby in action. I don’t want a fixed image. I want the movie reels that once projected in my head. However, I am able to vividly remember Toby’s hands. Toby’s hands were unique in that his pinky was generously curved. His hands were tanned and not shy of work, calloused with nails neatly trimmed.

They held the hand of his beloved wife, wielded tennis racquets, cupped ice cold Abita, peeled crawfish, paddled canoes, clapped out concert beats, and ferociously applauded the Saints and Team USA (soccer). His hands offered comfort and encouragement. His hands were so familiar and now they’re gone from this world. So, in my languishing grief I beg God to pull me into His compassionate embrace, and He does.

He renews my soul and refreshes my spirit. He protects me. He is my Light. He meets me where I am and rescues me. My hands are similar to my brother’s. So, I will continue to lift my hands to praise Jesus whose hands rescue me from the crevasses of despair. My hands will praise Him with boundless joy and gratitude.

-Claire Cunningham

The Fruit of Pain

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 24 Jun 2024 11:10:34 GMT

How to Bear What Hurts

The bible discusses fruit a lot. My pastor, one of my favorite people on earth, discussed abiding in fruit today at church. It reminds me of the choices we have in life with what is given to us. We go through pain and suffering whether it is our choices leading to these painful consequences or someone else's choices that we reap from. No matter what, there is a sewing and a reaping . Growing up with my dad was not always joyful. In fact when he was murdered, I had such a complex grief because I was in deep pain and confusion while also attempting to accept that his choices and brokenness contributed to this loss. Hear me when I say, he did not cause his own murder nor does anyone. But what I am saying is that we all have a choice. The definition for bearing fruit is yielding positive results. My dad was treated less than humane as a child. He had wounds so deep that we reaped some of those while he was alive. BUT in those wounds, he found hope , love , and change through Jesus . Though he fathered us through these wounds in a way that hurt, he also fathered us in a way that we did not experience the pain he did. He showed us something different: God. We understood the power of God. This was my dad's fruit.

A fruit tree has hanging fruit and how does one get the fruit from it? We shake it. Pain and loss shake us to our core. Losing a loved one to murder shakes us to our core in a way nobody can describe with words. To know it is to live it. Throughout this loss, I have learned the fruit I CHOOSE to bear. I want to love well. I want to understand love and pain in a compassionate way. And most of all, I want to help others. I could not allow this pain to swallow me up and harden me. Healing Roots is founded on hope . A hope only understanding sovereignty can provide. The God who is sovereign over all things may lead us into times that are deeply painful, but one thing that remains is his ability to use it. He uses it through our willingness to bear it as fruit. We can choose to bear kindness, love, compassion, forgiveness, hope, and HEALING even in this pain. Allow this pain to be used to yield positive results. Do not let the pain and those who caused it to win, let hope and love win always.

REFLECTION: Breathe and ask yourself, how can I bear fruit from this pain? (this is not always a big thing like starting a company or some huge organization, this can be as simple as gratitude or spending time with those you love and not isolating.)

Joyful Hearts

Mon, 17 Jun 2024 12:17:01 GMT

My precious friend asked me how I am able to live with a joyful heart in the wake of experiencing such a traumatic, devastating, and unsolved loss. I explained that every second, every minute, and every hour of every day I have to make a conscious decision to move toward joy…and it is so very, very hard. Anxiety has been an unwanted companion of mine most of my life, but with consistent counseling and authentic, supportive friends I have been able to implement healthy habits and strategies in order to diminish it.

However, my mindset after Toby’s unsolved murder allowed tentacles of anxiety to sprout and grow, choking positivity and destroying joy . Jesus’ never-ending unconditional love, encouraging friends, and knowledgeable therapists gently rescued me from crippling anxiety that held me captive. I had to re-learn how to step out of my ‘safe spaces’ and familiar comfort zones in order to continue renewing my adventurous spirit one tiny step at a time. I will have to do this for the rest of my life.

I have learned that tiny steps forward will continue to turn into confident, bold strides . Please be gentle, patient and kind to yourself. Seek joy and delight in the little things . No longer do you have to do ‘this’ alone because you are His, and He will never abandon you. You are dearly loved and cherished by the One who is with you, and who has saved you.

Rest in His promises.

-Claire Cunningham

Both can be true

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 10 Jun 2024 12:14:21 GMT

When Emotions Join

When we were kids, my mom and dad would take us to the beach sometimes. It was a drive so when we went, it was a treat. I always loved beach days with my family. It was a break from our home life and I got to swim all day long. My brother and I would always run straight to the water as soon as we got there. My mom and dad would hang out on shore and watch. Without fail, we would always be taken out by the current and somehow lose where our parents were camped out at. My dad would always tell us to pay attention to that, yet we would find ourselves floating away. I remember having a fear when that happened. It was a small yet intense panic of fear of being lost but at the very same time I was enjoying the best day with my brother. I could feel scared and equally joyful in one moment.

When grief hits, it hits. A wave crashes over the griever and it can be unbearable . This can happen in the happiest times. A birthday celebration, a wedding, or even a random Tuesday. Grief is such a multifaceted process that we can feel all of our emotions at the same time or nothing at all. We can feel so much joy that turns to guilt within the same moment. In my personal grieving process, I have learned that both can be true. I can be happy and successful but miss my dad with such a sadness. I can be angry at the injustice of the world but help others find hope in a fallen world. Both can and are true. We can have the most traumatic loss AND most beautiful lives at the same time. This is not a "see the positive" blog post. I do not believe in seeing positive beyond what really hurts, but what I do want to emphasize is the ability to FEEL both worlds and choose to allow the good in with the bad and hard. Our lives will never be the same so let the good in for what we do have left.

REFLECTION: Allow yourself to jot down 3-5 GOOD things that have happened since losing your loved one. ( NOTE : Not good because of the loss, good IN SPITE of it).

100 Foot Jump

Mon, 03 Jun 2024 12:03:01 GMT

Where Faith is Required

Every year on Toby’s birthday I do something daring in order to commemorate his sense of adventure. I bit off way more than I could chew June 9, 2016. I climbed the endless flights of winding stairs up the open aired tower above the clouds (it was fog). My harness was tightened down to the point of cutting off circulation; my shoulder straps dug into my shoulder blades constricting breathing, and the chin strap on my helmet prevented proper swallowing. Two extremely brave college students stood between myself and the platform.

Together we white-knuckled the railing as a ferocious wind threw us around, tossing us off our feet landing in a heap on the stairs. Without a word, the brave college students fled down the stairs to terra firma below. Their hasty retreat meant that it was my turn. Colorful expletives escaped my numb, blue lips. I couldn’t move. I had to lift each leg with my hands in order to get to the platform. Just as I was about to cut and run, a dear friend appeared, placed his hand on my shoulder, looked into my eyes and said, “You’re okay. You do not have to do this. You do not have to prove anything. If you do want to jump, then I’m here to support you.”

Everything went silent except for the ferocious beating of my heart. I dangled one foot off the edge and leaned forward sending my body plummeting 100 feet. I passed out. The cheers and applause of my ecstatic children brought me back to life. I did it! My friend on the platform did not know the reason why I was jumping. He became the hands and feet of Jesus that day. I was not alone. I was able to trust the equipment and jump because of blind faith. I might not plummet off of 100 foot towers this year to celebrate what would’ve been Toby’s 48th birthday. Instead, I’ll probably share cookie cake and find myself listening to live music. Blind faith tells me that I will be reunited with Toby again. Jesus alone gives me that hope.

Thank you, Jesus for your blessed assurance.

-Claire Cunningham

Wasabi

Mon, 20 May 2024 11:48:41 GMT

When Memories Are All we Have

My brother loved good food. He enjoyed everything from crawfish to sushi, shrimp poboys to an overstuffed burrito, but he thoroughly enjoyed the dangers associated with the consumption of wasabi. I loved sharing in his foodie adventures. Toby would take me to his favorite dives to savor and relish in the extraordinary joy that really good food brings.

One perfect spring afternoon, Tobs took me to his favorite sushi establishment. Trays of sushi decorated our table. We snapped our wooden chopsticks, brushed them off, poured reduced sodium soy sauce into the tiny saucer, and proceeded to add wasabi to complete the mixture. I looked up from my perfectly prepared wasabi mixture to watch in horror as Toby popped a quarter sized amount of burning green wasabi into his mouth and swallow. I was ready to call 911 fully believing that he would pass out. At the very least his face would swell and blister as it turned various shades of sickly red.

He looked up and saw my stunned, frozen, horrified facial expressions and began howling with contagious laughter. We laughed until our sides split as he explained that the gentle, slow burn of wasabi seemed to cure his chronic sinus ailments. I cherish these memories. I love telling them. Snot crying doesn’t happen anymore during Toby story time, instead laughter abounds and healing continues.

Thank you, Jesus for the glorious memories

-Claire Cunningham, survivor of Toby, her brother

Are You Ready?

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 13 May 2024 12:55:38 GMT

Your Grief, Your Way

Life is hard enough to have to endure violent loss. I think we can all agree that we did not need this painful loss to understand the importance of life and loved ones. Grief is not a fun way to find the meaning and purpose of life. Life and grief is a call AND a response. We respond to what we experience. We learn to integrate this pain in meaningful ways, it is not to prepare us for betterment. Can we be better for something painful? Yes. But then what? That painful loss is still a part of our experience. How do you respond? Being told how strong you are doesn't help. Being told they would want you happy certainly does not help either. So I ask again, how do you respond to this new integration? Here is my thought:

HOPE

How does one gain hope? Hope for tomorrow, hope for another day, hope in the memories that we have to hold onto, and hope in something bigger than us.

STRENGTH

We need strength to enter into the next moments. We need strength to hold onto LOVE and not hate or anger. We need strength to FEEL every emotion that grief brings us.

THIS is grief our own way that does not avoid the reality and holds patience and compassion in the journey toward acceptance and understanding.

REFLECTION: Name your strengths on paper. What do you carry with you in your grief that helps you survive?

No Thing

Mon, 06 May 2024 11:46:30 GMT

When Stillness Comes

Today I have nothing. No expectations. No demands. No agenda. Today has been positively

different. Today has delivered an attitude of zero expectations amongst the usual juggling of busy

agendas and hectic schedules. Today is brilliantly atypical.

Today has provided a sense of acceptance and stillness in the now, in the moment, which has

opened up an intimate space for acceptance and much welcomed growth.

Acceptance without the nagging tug and pull to seek and search for answers that just aren’t

available.

The result is serenity. Serenity because I do not have to do anything because He has done

everything. I simply have to be still. Stillness used to mean that I was being unproductive because I was doing nothing. Quite the contrary. I’m sitting in the nothing-ness in order to embrace the something-ness. I am peacefully

safe.

There is nothing that I can do but trust in Him who makes beautiful things out of no things.

Thank you, Jesus!

-Claire Cunningham

Burdens

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 29 Apr 2024 11:59:49 GMT

How to Carry What Can't be Fixed

While it may not be extremely heavy, our grief like our love will always be a part of us. I wanted my grief to be more than surviving. I wanted joy, peace, laughter, LIFE. How can we carry this and live fully? This is not another speech on living beyond the pain or finding gratitude in the pain, yes there is space for that, but this is about carrying what is out of our control in a way we find possible.

Megan Devine, a wonderful grief specialist, discusses feeling both joy and pain to fully live in this. She says, "If we have to abandon our grief to feel joy, we are in trouble." This grief is not going anywhere. The freedom to live in this grieving space is in the way we find meaning, something ONLY WE can do with our grief.

Joy and purpose becomes more possible when we view it as an addition to grief and NOT a trade-off. This pain, type of loss, and layered grief CANNOT be all or nothing. It can be painful looking ahead, even dreadful, BUT what we can do is carry this into tomorrow. ONE DAY AT A TIME.... Choose to carry this in your own way and in your own time. That is where HOPE resides.

REFLECTION TIME: Ask yourself, what is my relationship with joy currently? If you do not have to let go of your grief to feel joy, does that change anything? If you feel stuck, start with "Joy is complicated..."

When We Return to the Past

Mon, 22 Apr 2024 12:04:23 GMT

NOLA

I t’s been 14 years. Fourteen years since I’ve returned to the place where glorious memories abound but are overshadowed by emotional torment, and pain. It’s a place I used to hurry to, but I have deliberately avoided. No more . My daughter and my son are the focal point of this trip.

Navigating the city and experiencing the sights, sounds, smells, music, food, and energy through their curious minds is truly magical. Seeing this city, that for me became gray, vile and haunted, through their eager, innocent eyes has provided a new perspective. Creating new memories where pain and anguish once flourished and spread like invasive kudzu is my sole focus.

Clearing the choking vines and replacing them with colorful, vibrant memories with my beautiful family is my purpose. He is here. What an honor it is to tell stories of the witty Uncle they know only through photos and tales from people who loved him. We laugh and the kids ask questions as they explore the city their Uncle adored. He lives in them and that gives me peace because he isn’t a fading memory.

We take him with us wherever we go. I am grateful for this opportunity that I avoided for so many years. He would’ve wanted us to celebrate life, live ‘light’, and share joy together. Do I turn a corner and see him, yes. Instead of crumbling, I grin because I am grounded. I am safe . I am covered in my friend, Jesus’ love. So, I sit still and quiet in order to absorb every beautiful memory that we are creating. I am choosing to smile and laugh. My children are teaching me how to move through the beauty of each memory with purpose, gratitude, love, & hope.

-Claire Cunningham

Make Room

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Sun, 14 Apr 2024 23:14:12 GMT

Making Room for New

When I was 23 and I learned my dad was shot and killed, I felt so many emotions. I do not remember knowing how to feel or when these feelings would subside. Slowly but surely others moved on while I remained on that residential road looking at my dad's blood. In grief there is more than enough space for anger, sadness, hate, revenge, and deep emotional pain. I lived that for years. For three full years I lived in anger and rage toward the system, people, and anyone who misunderstood the depth of pain that was caused by the violence my dad endured.

Throughout the years, I learned that I was not alone, I slowly learned to make room for good things. In grief there is also room for joy, healing, faith, sunny days, new relationships and LIFE . Healing in grief is both a process of holding on and letting go.
We have a life beyond our loss IF and WHEN we make room for it. We can hold space for every part of this process while choosing which to carry most.

REFLECTION: How can you make room in your grief today? (Remember this is NOT avoiding or invalidating the hard parts of this journey).

Focus

Mon, 08 Apr 2024 12:12:08 GMT

What are your eyes fixed on?

How is it possible to find any semblance of hope and gratitude in this broken world? How can a

navigable path be found through all of the mess and muck that festers, groans, entangles, &

snares?

Look up! Look through the worry and fear that are in the immediate eyeline in order to focus on

His eternal promises; promises that are embedded in our hearts.

He printed His love and salvation directly on our broken hearts. Channel it! Turn to the promise

that this situation, this fallen earth, this life is temporary. Fix our eyes not on things of this world, but on His eternal promises of glory, love, redemption, salvation, peace, and healing.

Lay down your worries and fears, unanswered questions and anger because He promises truth,

victory, and eternity with Him. So, lift your weary eyes and see Him . Shift your gaze and focus

on His total restoration.

When Suffering Feels Like the Only Option

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 01 Apr 2024 11:47:17 GMT

Pain is Inevitable; Suffering is Optional

Throughout my grief process personally and through helping others, I have learned that suffering is often something that comes through the misunderstanding of grief. When someone we love is killed, something is ripped from us in one moment. This is often so misunderstood that it causes the pain to deepen into suffering. There is a true difference between pain and suffering.

Pain is a normal, healthy response to a difficult event. Hurting from painful events such as a murdered loved one is not wrong. Feeling sad, crying, losing faith, questioning life, and being angry is not wrong. Pain will soften in its own time…

Unless suffering has occurred, suffering is distinct; it encompasses all the additional elements that exacerbate the pain. Without intervention or alteration, suffering tends to escalate, culminating in an even more intense storm of anguish.

Being dismissed (by self and others), unheard, denying your own feelings, spending time with unhelpful people, negative thinking and narratives, or lacking soul care (taking care of oneself) can cause great suffering.

We may not be able to erase the pain of loss, but much of the suffering that comes with it is optional. Often, we can alter or alleviate it. However, it's essential first to learn how to identify it.

REFLECTION: Ask yourself honestly: In what ways am I suffering beyond my normal painful response? What can I change to move more toward healing and not suffering? What am I doing well?

Be Still

Mon, 25 Mar 2024 12:12:58 GMT

Stillness in the Chaos

These last few months have been emotionally challenging. Navigating through confusion, questions, frustrations, and a nagging, intense pull to take on the role of private detective dominated my every thought. I made it my mission to protect my loved ones from disturbing, cruel social media posts made by a total stranger around the anniversary of my brother’s murder.

White hot fury fueled my need to uncover every lead, remain in constant contact with detectives, reaching out to total strangers in hopes of gaining a morsel of insight into so many unanswered questions. Balance was lost and I began an unhealthy tailspin of obsession in order to vindicate my beloved brother who was being slandered. Then I heard His voice ringing in my heart gently telling me to be still.

Be still and sit with me. Remain in my presence so that your weary soul rests. So, I did. He washed me in His peace and calm. He holds me and reminds me that I do not have to fight because He is fighting for me. He is my strength. He is my rescuer from the battle because He has already won the war. My faith, trust and hope remain in Him alone. More of Him and less of me. Praise Him!

-Claire Cunningham

Stuck Like Chuck

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 18 Mar 2024 11:54:17 GMT

What Keeps You Stuck?

When I was a kid, my dad and I watched movies as a family. I am a movie person. For some reason, any action movie in the 80’s and 90’s had a quicksand in it. As a kid, I was so scared that would be how I go. I would not walk on mud or dirt because quicksand was sneaky, and then before I knew it, I’d sink like the guy in the movie. Imagine that? Walking around, living a normal day, and then boom, you get sucked up by sand! There was never something they could hold onto in the movie scenes, either. I think of grief and negative thinking like this.

Thinking negatively is a lot like quicksand. One negative thought, and we spiral down into a dark abyss with nothing to hold onto if we are not careful. A traumatic loss like murder leaves us breathless with so many unanswered questions, and this begins the spiral of thoughts. Anchoring ourselves in faith, support, and healthy coping can be lifesaving.

Although quicksand is a real thing, it does not kill us. It does not suck us to the bottom with no way back up. Quicksand pulls someone in, and they wade there stuck without movement until they get pulled out. So, knowing this now, I ask, what is it that keeps you stuck? And what is it that pulls you out? We need to know and understand both. Paying attention to our thoughts and what thought keeps us stuck in one place in our grief is vital to being able to allow ourselves to be pulled out. They go hand in hand.

REFLECTION : Healthy coping in murder loss MUST have three things:

- Reframing and challenging of negative thoughts. (NOTE: this does not mean positive thinking alone heals all pain, that would be invalidating).

- Community Support (Friends, family, church, etc.)

- An eagerness to grow and heal.

Anchored

Mon, 11 Mar 2024 12:47:58 GMT

What Anchors You?

Dreams reveal vivid images of the horizon line on a tranquil sea that smoothes tangled up

anxiety and calms bedraggled nerves. The image brings sweet calmness and serenity, peace

and tranquility. However, despite the beauty of the ocean landscape an untethered, unbridled

restlessness lurks below the surface. Suddenly, stillness and calmness are unavailable and

absent. Intentionally and fervently praying to Father God to release anger, pain, grief, and an admitted

unhealthy obsession to find answers, a new image is revealed: an anchor.

His promises and love are the lifeline and anchor. The anchor provides unwavering bravery and confidence when the storm of anxiety and worry begin to swell and slither into irrational obsessive thoughts. Instead of sinking into the inky

darkness, I am able to redirect, soar and flourish because of the strength provided by His

anchor. The anchor is secure; it is constant and steady; it holds. I am no longer frantically zig-zagging

across stormy skies and drowning in raging seas; I am forever anchored because of His

unconditional, never-ending, steady, constant love.

Focusing on His eternal promise of intense love is the anchor that holds my soul and heart

steady. I can let go of the unbearable weight and soar because I am free. The anchor holds

steady.

REFLECTION: What or who anchors you in your grief?

The Highs and the Lows

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 04 Mar 2024 12:48:27 GMT

Peaks Where There are Valley's

Every painful struggle has peaks and valleys. There are a variety of types of valleys and their process begins with some sort of erosion. There are various types such as river valleys or glacial valleys but no matter the type, they have their own shapes and sizes. The size of the valley is determined by the amount of water that flows through it. No one valley has a choice on when and how much water comes. This reminds me of grief. Traumatic loss and the grieving process has so many valleys. In the low times, it may feel deep and wide and lonely. Our low points are times when we are frozen in time with sadness, anger, shock, denial, and guilt. But if we are to acknowledge the valleys, we must also recognize the peaks. If you stood in a valley, the only way we could look is up. There will be both peaks and valleys and both are important. The high points are the fond memories of our loved ones, the laughter we still have, and the new memories. A high point is also an acceptance that they are no longer here but there is still life to live. The best part about peaks and valleys is that we do not stay too long in either one of them. We, like valleys and the water, allow each to come as they may and we float through the process with grace, compassion, and understanding that loss hurts and life worth living is still possible. We can climb out of a valley and we can fall from a peak, but neither will destroy us. Grieve, find gratitude, and live.

REFLECTION: Journal 5 peaks and 5 valleys from your grief journey.

Gratitude Through Grief

Mon, 26 Feb 2024 13:10:42 GMT

Gratitude Brings Peace

Crushing frustration, debilitating anxiety, and maddening anger manifested within my body due

to the lack of a sense of urgency to solve the case. Nothing made sense anymore, but the lack

of answers followed by the lack of communication from the lead detective exacerbated pain and

depression. Something had to change or my life would slip away into an abyss of quicksand.

The passing of each anniversary began to deliver unexpected clarity amidst the hollowness of

unanswered questions and an unsolved cold case. It’s all because of an intentional decision to

focus on gratitude .

Focusing on gratitude allowed space to live with purpose . This paradigm shift required walking

boldly into the storm to face pain in order to make space for joy. Slowly, the gloomy melancholy

lifted as joy in simple everyday gifts became the focus.

Weekly therapy sessions, renewed faith, journaling, intentional time spent outside, exercise, and

time spent with my pup along with ample grace and patience steadily brought gratitude and joy

in everyday life. Some days are easier than others. Embracing the emotions and naming them

as they roll in have helped. The cold case will probably remain exactly that, cold.

Forgiveness for the person(s) responsible happened a long time ago. Warmth, peace and strength come from my Redeemer. Living a life that chooses gratitude in the pain, focusing on joy in a sea of unanswered questions, and living

each moment from a place of love has yielded immeasurable strength and peace.

Written by Survivor and Board Member Claire Cunningham

Earth-Shattering Pain

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 19 Feb 2024 12:09:12 GMT

The Aftershocks of Grief

The Earth's brittle crust supports all continents of the world. It goes through phases and has a process which can be floating, ramming into, sideswiping, or pulling a part from the semi-molten mantle. It is quite fascinating. Natural forces exert a tremendous amount of pressure on the Earth's plates and rocky seams. After months and years of pressure, this strain builds up and launches giving us an earthquake. Like a murder loss, earthquakes cause disaster without warning. There is not time to be prepared for such an event. Rebuilding and finding our foundation again when someone we love is killed can take months to years to accomplish. The extent of the devastation is a significant predictor of stress. Essentially, how we view the disaster plays a part in our ability to be resilient and heal. Like an earthquake, the emotions of grief can be subtle. We have highs and lows, but for the most part we survive. We live lives while sometimes avoiding a rebuild of a foundation that was destroyed. There can be aftershocks for years following an earthquake. These can reflect what one would call a "trigger" in their emotional pain. Places, phrases, dates, certain sounds or smells, and even people can cause us aftershocks internally when we lose someone in such a traumatic way. How we cope with this stress and emotional pain is the only way to rebuild, restructure, and recreate something worth surviving. Our loved one's lives are worth more than being stuck in pain and not rebuilding. Let's be cautious but open with allowing reconstruction in whatever way we need. Get help, talk about it, tell your story, and most of all, LIVE.

Hope Springs Eternal

Mon, 12 Feb 2024 13:11:05 GMT

Hope That Perseveres

“Hope springs eternal,” she said to me with a tear in her eye and a hand on my shoulder. I was

confused and dumbstruck by this comment delivered from a total stranger on the day of my

brother’s funeral. I nodded and uttered a shaky, “Thanks.” Months after Toby’s burial, I couldn’t shake the stranger’s words.

What did this stranger know about hope in such a time as this? Hope for healing? A new day? Happiness? Hope that the murderer would be caught and justice would be served? Hope that the pieces of my shattered heart would mend? Yes. The stranger meant all of those things. Toby has been in Heaven for nearly 18 years. The murderer hasn’t been caught, but my shattered heart has reconstructed itself into new valves and pumps. Hope prevails in my soul because I hold firm to the simple truth that I will be reunited with Him in Heaven. I refuse to be swallowed up by bitterness.

Instead, I choose to talk about Toby with my children who never got to meet their spectacularly hysterical uncle. I choose to laugh loud and hard, love with my whole soul, cry big hot snot-filled tears, and live with a heart that is thankful to have had 29 years with my beloved brother, Toby.

The stranger was right. Hope will grow, blossom and thrive from the most barren and desolate

places. Hope will persevere because hope springs eternal.

-Claire Cunningham

When the Waves Crash

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 05 Feb 2024 12:42:15 GMT

The Decline

Grief comes in waves. This is a common statement that is well known. While thinking of the waves and how waves in the ocean come and go as they please without notice to the environment. It is just simply the way it happens, much like grief. We have no way of knowing when it will come or go, when it will decline or increase. However, the biggest hope is that the intensity declines because that is what healing does. As I researched waves and how they work I found the following excerpt I needed to share:

As for grief, you’ll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you’re drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it’s some physical thing. Maybe it’s a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it’s a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive. In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don’t even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you’ll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what’s going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything…and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life . Somewhere down the line, and it’s different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O’Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you’ll come out. Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don’t really want them to. But you learn that you’ll survive them. And other waves will come. And you’ll survive them too. If you’re lucky, you’ll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.

-Author Unknown

The 'If Only' Thoughts

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 29 Jan 2024 13:02:41 GMT

When Does it End?

In her book, "The Unspeakable Loss," Dr. Nisha Zenoff delves into the profound impact of the 'if only's.' The sudden loss of a loved one can evoke a unique sense of guilt, as expressed by a mother who lost her 16-year-old son: "I felt there was a lot more I could have done." It's a sentiment we all grapple with—those haunting 'if only's.'

How often do you question why your child or loved one has faced challenges? How many times have you felt powerless, seeking answers that seem elusive? Reflecting on what might have been done differently can be draining. The reality is, that we cannot accurately predict what might have occurred. Dwelling on the possibilities and burdening ourselves with self-blame, longing to rewind time, can make us lose sight of the present and miss out on valuable moments. Author Nisha shares that there is no timetable to these thoughts. However, we will stop these thoughts when they no longer serve our healing process.

REFLECTION: Reading books on grief help us feel heard and seen. Writing how we feel in this process is even more helpful. People tend to not to cope in helpful ways because avoidance hurts less in the present time, however, long-term there are consequences. Here are some prompts from a journal called You, Remembered written to one's loved one.

What is a memory only you and your loved one share?

Your smile is...

If only you and I...

My loved one's favorite sayings were...

The Active Recovery of Traumatic Loss

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 22 Jan 2024 12:44:47 GMT

The Upside

The upside of grief. I know what may be going through your mind. How is this being said? How is this possible? I am glad you're here if that is what you were thinking. As I have shared previously, I go to spin class a lot. I love the empowerment and strength it takes to ride a bike at various intervals. This is not for everyone, but for me, it is where I grab the best metaphors for grief, pain, and healing. When working out, there is a saying the trainer says often: “Active recovery.” This ‘active recovery’ term reminds me of grief and the small moments we are still actively grieving while feeling relief from the intensity of the pain simultaneously. In weightlifting, when we enter active recovery, I feel like I can breathe momentarily. I feel the break from the heaviness of lifting, but I also feel a quick moment of relief from the amount of heaviness. You see, I am still holding the weights; I am just lifting them a different way, which relieves my muscles.

You see, in my clinical and personal opinion, one of the best coping tools for a healing journey is a new perspective. If not, wherever you go (mentally or physically), there you will be. This can be helpful but also hurtful. Healing takes time, and grief, as we know, is not temporary. So therefore, the perspective and spurts of relief (active recovery moments) from the ongoing struggle of missing our loved ones are vital.

Think of ibuprofen or an aspirin. We take these for what? Relief. The small moments where we do not feel intense pain, our throat closing, our chest pounding, or the ongoing mental battle of asking why are moments of our ‘aspirin,’ it's temporary BUT necessary. One day, these may not be as needed as often, but nonetheless, they are helpful and essential to healing. These small moments give us hope, peace, and a new lens.

No activity today but I will challenge you to reflect on what your active recovery will look like. Is it taking a moment for yourself? Is it acknowledging that this pain is not forever? Is it allowing yourself to feel the joy without guilt? You journal and choose. Be honest.

The Power of Writing

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 15 Jan 2024 12:50:32 GMT

Writing Heals

If you have ever sat with me in any therapeutic setting then you know writing is a tool I often use for a healing opportunity. Writing allows our pain to be externalized. It can be letters, thoughts, or just plain "I feel" statements that come out, whatever it may be, it will have a healing effect if we allow it. Here are some benefits from writing:

- What we hold in hurts us and what we release helps us.

- Grief needs to be witnessed (in a safe space).

- Healing doesn’t mean forgetting, it means the event no longer controls us.

- Remembering is not always revisiting, but writing can help us remember from a distance and allow a story to unfold on paper.

- We are not to re-feel or re-experience it, but to REMEMBER , to see it from a distance, NOT to retraumatize yourself.

- Remembering the good is healing.

REFLECTION: Write something using the following prompts by finishing the sentences.

When this happened…

I felt…

I lost…

I came to believe (about myself and the world, ex: fears etc)…

In order to survive, I adopted the following behaviors (to cope/protect myself)…

Here are some other journaling prompts:

- Today, I’m having a hard time with…

- One thing I want to remember about them is…

- Describe a memory with your loved one that makes you laugh.

- What is one thing you could try to make today easier on yourself?

- I need more of…

- I need less of…

See the Skyline

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 08 Jan 2024 14:38:46 GMT

Taking in the Views

A friend of mine wrote something I wanted to share. Enjoy and reflect.

Have you ever been afforded the opportunity to see the skyline, void of reminders of current day life? The horizon that shines the sunrise or sunset in all of its glory. Or the country side filled with plains as far as the eye can see, filled with nothing but the land of the living. Or surrounded by the mountains, either from the bottom where they appeared so vast there was no end to their height, or from above where there was no end to the peaks in sight? When you take in the beauty of the skyline, it is usually in those places where it is difficult to distinguish where it begins or where it ends. It may appear serene, quit and calm. However, the beauty of the same may suggest the turmoil from which they arose.

No mountains were made without a breaking and shaking. The beauty you see came from a force so incredibly strong and immensely deep, that rock far beneath the surface broke apart, and made its way toward the sun. Rocks tumbled in the wake of the change. What was once calm and flat, still and peaceful, broke forth from its place of comfort, into chaos. And for a while, chaos reigned. Where life once resided is now filled with what appears to be irreparable brokenness.

Time. Hope. Waiting. Watching. Counting years, days, maybe even moments or breaths. Watching the seasons pass.

And then you see it. The sun rises. Life bursts forth from the place you defined as rubble. Colors abound. Little by little, they fill the emptiness with the beauty of fullness.

There will be seasons of breaking. Sometimes they shake us, causing little disturbances and brief detours. Other times, they tear apart our landscape and reform the entirety of our horizon with forms yet unknown to us. There exists an unknown beauty in the brokenness. New paths are formed. New views appear. New life will spring forth because the land was not destroyed, but rather, rearranged.

Look up. Take in the new views. You can remember what the view once was, but don’t overlook the beauty of the view you now have. Find beauty. Seek new life. Discover what it has to offer. Embrace the brokenness because from that place, you have been given a mountain top to stand on.

-Brookes McClellan

When Grief Attacks

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 18 Dec 2023 13:21:26 GMT

Ready, Set, Grief

I am not aware of anyone who reads this as being someone who was ready to say goodbye to their loved one. Nothing can prepare a heart for murder. As we come to the end of the year, things may look different. We watch the holidays pass by and the time where everyone is planning something new, we can find it difficult to adjust to new plans. The other day while working with a client, they were describing the impact of grief. They used the term "grief attack" which explained so much in one term. The outbursts of tears, the anger, the sudden burst of emotions out of nowhere. These are grief attack moments. We must subscribe to the healing and moving forward that seem so difficult to imagine. When we allow grief to come and we feel the pain, we are not surprised when grief attacks come. Allow yourself to feel the bursts of grief without shame or self judgement. As the year comes to an end, create a way to feel the grief and enjoy the present moments. Do not let grief steal the joy.

REFLECTION: Create an action plan for your next "grief attack" or burst of emotions. What does a plan look like for you? Can you go for a walk? Can you make time to journal? Can you find a safe space to cry it out? Making a plan helps the pain and gives you more control of the what because we cannot control the when.

Light in the Tunnel

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 11 Dec 2023 13:17:54 GMT

What is Your Light?

When I was a child, my dad took my brother and me on a road trip to his hometown of Rhode Island. This is a long trip when you're a kid. This is probably where my vertigo began. I remember having fun, though. My dad and aunt went the wrong way because we ended up in New York City. In New York, going over a bridge or a tunnel is an option. I remember these options being discussed as to which way would be faster. They chose the tunnel, which ended up being the worst choice. We were stuck in traffic in this dark tunnel for what felt like hours. As a kid, an hour is a day, so we will say it was all day to keep the drama. This tunnel was long and dark, leaving no clues about where the light was. When we saw the light, we knew this was the end of the darkest parts of the trip.

I think of the beginning of traumatic loss, the shock, the funeral, the confusion, the hope for a solved case, and the most profound pain ever felt imagined in your chest and throat. In the first weeks, so many emotions are wrapped up in denial and shock. Denial this has happened, denial that this will ever get better, and denial that this is possibly your life. The anger sets in, then the guilt, and so on. This is all very normal. The fear and the worldview shift take time to process. There is no timeline for this process as in the traffic in the tunnel. We just sat there, not knowing what would come or when we would leave this dark place. We were in line with others, feeling the same exhaustion of traffic. In this grief, YOU ARE NOT ALONE. You will reach this light at the end of the tunnel. You will make it out.

REFLECTION: Ask yourself, "What is the light for me?" This tunnel has an end if you allow yourself to see it. Seeing it is believing it, then feeling it follows. What is your light? Friends? Therapy? Support? Jesus? Name your light.

Moving Forward and Standing Still

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 04 Dec 2023 13:49:29 GMT

Pain to Purpose

The heartbreaks from loss that we carry are enormous and painful. Our desire to undo some of what has been done is so very understandable. I would add that it’s okay to carry both the desire to want things to change and an acceptance that on this side of eternity they won’t change. We can carry both and we can honor both. We can move forward without forgetting the pain, the emotions, the memories, and the moments others do not see. It takes the same amount of time to look back as it does to move forward, and both are essential to healing. Chasing wholeness with a broken heart is a process. When we consider an actual physical scab, the best advice is to avoid scratching or picking the scab. Why is this? Because healing wounds may itch and scratching a wound or picking the scab causes more pain, inflammation, and makes it worse. The emotional pain from loss at some point with our allowance begins to feel more like a scar than a scab. The itch subsides and it becomes more manageable with the correct support and tools. Therapy, support groups, friends, family, and most of all BEING OPEN to it. Are you allowing more of a scar or a scab?

REFLECTION: I will leave you with this question to ponder: What is more important: remaining the same in pain or in pain while growing and moving forward?

Enough

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 27 Nov 2023 13:36:04 GMT

Blockages

His grace is sufficient for you.....

2 Corinthians 12:9

A common thought within grief (or any painful experience) is 'I have not done enough.' Could I have done more? This question is always a norm yet shocking for me as a grief counselor. Client's ask what they could have done differently? Allowing this thought to lead the path will guide you to a completely different painful journey. What we must do is create space for hard thoughts and hard truths, but not dwell in them. When we obsess over things out of our control, we begin to idolize the pain it causes. Grief is a bridge to the other side of the pain. We cannot heal if we do not grieve. The negative thoughts keep us bonded to pain versus free to heal. We have done enough and we have done all we could. It is not our choices that killed our loved ones. Let's release the belief we can change what happened and release ourselves of the burden of guilt.

When Thanksgiving Doesn't feel Very Thankful

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 20 Nov 2023 13:43:41 GMT

Remembering What Was and Embracing What is

Happy Thanksgiving! Happy Holidays! Happy, Happy, Happy.

If you're still here after reading those, then you know these are common things said every holiday season that now may have a different meaning for you and your family. The reality is those common 'normal' sayings DO mean something different now. The hard truth is, that life during the holidays no longer looks the same and this hurts. We want to offer some ways to embrace the change and also embracing the memories of what was. There is also space to create something new. Be open...

Here are some tips for embracing the change and everything in between:

· Be flexible and open with plans

· Tell friends and family what you need and ask for their support.

· Include your loved one in your memories and conversations

· Celebrate a special day by taking time to do something in memory of the person who died.

· Remind yourself that it’s okay to laugh as well as to cry.

· Look for ways to honor the person who died

· Talk or write about the favorite times you shared.

· Display a photo of your loved one

· Tell them about your day or about a shared memory.

· Write briefly about a memory reflected in a picture.

· Look at your loved one’s photos on holidays.

Infection

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 13 Nov 2023 13:57:59 GMT

Untreated Emotional Wounds

In a couple of support groups, the idea of pushing through versus pulling away has come up. One thing I tend to say is as with an untreated physical wound, untreated heart wounds grow more and more tender, too. Though covered up, the wounds get worse, and if they’re not treated, much like a physical wound, an infection will spread and create even more hurt. If we were to leave an infected wound on our leg long enough, we would most likely lose that limb as consequences. With emotional wounds, the same concept applies. As the hurt piles, our relationships and joy can diminish over time. This invisible infection makes it more difficult to move forward the way we need to. Losing someone to murder is not a situation we just move forward from. But that pain left unprocessed will infect every aspect of our lives if we are not careful. It is when we can look at our emotions and pain directly and sit with it (face it), the pain will be processed in a safe way. This can help us better understand these emotions and how they affect us.

REFLECTION: Here are some prompts to help reach the infected parts of our pain...

Which emotion(s) am I trying to avoid right now?
Why am I trying to hide from this emotion?
What does this emotion need from me?
What is preventing me from addressing this feeling?

(Prompts written by Haley Neidich)

Cry

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 06 Nov 2023 13:27:53 GMT

Crying is Good for the Heart

I read this blog the other day and it gave me great thought into the healing process and how crying is such an important ingredient. Do you ever notice how often someone (maybe even you) apologizes for becoming emotional and crying? Do you ever notice how being handed a tissue stops us from crying? This is something I have noticed in my life personally and clinically. As a society, we are often not the best with witnessing someone's pain and tears. Tears are a natural cleansing and healing mechanism. It is always OK to cry. It’s good to cry when you feel like it. Tears or form of mourning. And it is a sacred part of the process of healing. There’s also space not to feel bad if you are not crying a lot because not everyone is a crier. Emotions are shown in various ways; the key is not to avoid them.

REFLECTION: If you feel that urge, allow yourself to cry and release the emotion. Find a safe place to embrace your pain and cry it out as hard and as long as you can.

Story Telling

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 30 Oct 2023 12:26:30 GMT

Transforming Traumatic Grief

"Grief does not obey your plans, or your wishes. Grief will do whatever it wants to you, whenever it wants to. In that regard, grief has a lot in common with love."

-Elizabeth Gilbert

I love this quote. Brene Brown, author of many books, discusses grief through storytelling. Another researcher, Robert Neimeyer, describes a central process within grief work as the attempt to reaffirm or reconstruct a world of meaning challenged by loss. Brene Brown shares three main elements of grief: longing, loss, and feeling lost. Can you relate to these three things? I can. Anyone who has experienced a painful loss of any kind would find that to be true. There is a need for connection, storytelling, and listening to other's stories to grieve fully. Storytelling is a way our brains can bring meaning and order to what has happened. Humans desire a meaning and a why. We can never know fully why someone had to kill our loved ones, but we can make meaning from this pain and, most of all, the life they lived. Storytelling connects every part of us profoundly, integrating our feelings, memories, and bodies. Storytelling helps us connect the dots and allows us to make sense of this deeply painful reality. Storytelling creates context and structure, leading us to healing. Storytelling is active grieving.

REFLECTION: Tell your story on paper and then read it out loud. Who did you lose? How? Give details. Talk to them. Share about them. This is a "let it flow from the heart" type of writing reflection.

An Open Heart

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 23 Oct 2023 13:19:16 GMT

What is Your Strength?

A broken heart from grief is painful, but it's also open. An open heart and vulnerability is strength. We must run toward our openness and not away from it. In our saddest moments, we need and want to be connected to someone who has known the same pain and heartbreak. Humans do not want our pain overlooked and long to hear others. In this connection, we need to remain open no matter how painful. How does one do this? We show up for ourselves and others. We feel the pain, live with it, and allow others in. What we do not do is run from the pain. Fear of feeling is one way to stay stuck in the very agony we are running from.

REFLECTION : Continue seeking support. Here are some journal prompts for jotting down some thoughts and feelings. Remember, the process is critical, not pushing through to survive.

What is something you wish your support system would understand?
What is something you wish your support system could help with?
I need more of…
I need less of….
Today, I’m having a hard time with…

The Death Shapes the Grief

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 16 Oct 2023 13:16:10 GMT

The Meaning of Death

"Without suffering and death, human life cannot be complete."

-Viktor Frankl

Pain and suffering will always be a given in life. We cannot talk about grief without discussing death. If someone we love has a meaningful death, our grief will be less torturous. But if our loved one dies suddenly, like a murder loss, our pain and anguish will undoubtedly be more complicated. David Kessler says often, “Pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional.” What does this mean? This means the story of our loss brings meaning to their death. The purpose of the loss BEGINS and ENDS with the story we tell. I hear about the pain of murder, loss, and grief all the time, but telling our story is different. The way we frame our stories is how we can move forward. The story has the power to change our feelings. Suffering is what our mind does to us, not the death.

REFLECTION : Write your story. Though difficult, revisit the death and the days leading up to it. Where were you? What happened? Did the death need to happen? Could it have been prevented? How are you feeling? These are all painful questions, but writing the story will help one day at a time.

Regrets

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 09 Oct 2023 12:54:51 GMT

The "Should Have's and What If's"

All of our regrets, the should-haves, and what-ifs can imprison those grieving. It can build walls around the pain, keeping it in. What if we had saved our loved ones? What if we were there? Should I have called? Should I have answered the phone when they called? If only I had been there. These kinds of thoughts and wishes are normal. They also need to be released. What “what-ifs” do you hold onto? Are you willing to let go?

REFLECTION : Journaling time. Reflect on your what-ifs and should-haves. Write them down. Let them out. And then let them go. Do this as often as you need to. Remember, a healthy outlet is always key to the process.

The In-between

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 02 Oct 2023 12:14:02 GMT

High Intensity Intervals of Grief

Fifteen. October 6th will make 15 years since my dad left this earth at the hands of another. Fifteen years of no answers, a tug of war with hope, and the resilience it requires a survivor to move forward while standing still as if it is still day one. I do spin/cycle classes and have my whole life. I grew up riding bikes with my dad, which has never ceased to be my favorite. After all, it is where I feel close to him. In a high-intensity sprint interval spin class, we are taught to go from strength to sprinting. The waves of intensity come fast, so you have to be ready. It reminds me of grief. When someone we love is killed, we are suddenly forced into the speed and sprinting through to get things done. Everything is moving so fast and slow all at once. Then comes the strength. The strength forces us to get through the most complex parts of the beginning. We oscillate between moving fast and being strong. After this 30-minute class, we enter the cool down. In grief, this is what I would call the in-between.

The time we live as normal as we can, moving forward while simultaneously remembering. Our throats may not close whenever we hear their name, our chests may not pound as fast, or our minds may be distracted. The birthday or anniversary comes, and we begin to feel the fast-paced feelings again, just like we did when they died. We relive that time in our lives, and we remember the intensity. Then we plug into strength again. We must not forget the ability to be strong, feel fast, and know when to cool down and allow ourselves breathing room through it all. We repeat this because grief is the cost of loving someone, and hope is always on the other side.

All of the Fixings

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 25 Sep 2023 12:39:05 GMT

Grieving Well?

Those who grieve well will live well. In grief, we do not need to be fixed because we are not broken. The cure to grief is grieving. We learn to live with grief in our hearts as re learn to find wholeness once again. Grief from a violent loss shrinks our world. When we rebuild our lives and learn to let go, we accept wholeness. We learn to live again and live well. Our grief is there to heal the pain of the loss. Continue moving forward. Make meaning of this loss, hold onto hope, and carry your grief well. There is a difference between carrying and holding onto the pain.

REFLECTION: Journaling is always a safe place to process and get out the raw thoughts and feelings. Write down some feelings, memories, and fears that you hold onto. Do not run from the grief, allow it to help heal you.

The Physical Pain of Grief

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 18 Sep 2023 12:31:55 GMT

How does emotional pain impact our physical pain?

When our emotional reaction to grief and pain is left unfaced, our bodies will allow us to feel it in other ways. Common physical symptoms clinically seen are lack of sleep, fatigue, and stomach pain. We tend to tense up our bodies when avoiding emotions. One’s throat may close up or tighten when discussing a loved one. This causes discomfort. It is very common to feel exhausted when grieving. You may feel tired for many reasons. Strong emotions and all the practical things you may have needed to do after they died can also leave you exhausted. Another factor for this type of loss is waiting for the case to be solved or for the trial and court process to end. All of these things exhaust someone. Below are the most common physical symptoms one may feel. Which do you relate to?

a hollow feeling in your stomach
tightness, or heaviness, in your chest or throat
oversensitivity to noise
difficulty breathing
feeling very tired and weak
a lack of energy
dry mouth
an increase or decrease in appetite
finding it hard to sleep or fear of sleeping
aches and pains.

REFLECTION : Be honest with yourself and write down any of your feelings. Challenge yourself to feel the emotions that your body holds. Where do you feel your grief most?

Coming to Terms

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 11 Sep 2023 13:35:44 GMT

The Idea of Acceptance

If you have made it past the title, then the big idea of acceptance did not scare you away. Acceptance is the pillar of helping us navigate pain and difficulties. On most days, it probably does not feel like this is an anchor of hope, but it is. Acceptance is not the agreement of what has happened to your loved one but the allowance of the reality of the loss and the emotions that follow. When feeling sad, confused, angry, distracted, and other emotions grief brings, acceptance can feel like a refuge or relief. This refuge allows space to acknowledge what is in and out of one’s control. We can choose how to behave and react to the uncontrollable events when someone we love is murdered. Active acceptance is not giving up, giving in, or being defeated. It is actively facing the adversity of grief, being open, and leaning into the pain to heal. This healing process is slow and meaningful and oh-so worth it. Most of all, it is possible.

REFLECTION : Take some time to journal about this using some prompts. We are not trying to change anything we feel; we are simply finding ways to accept it. Use the following steps:

1) Notice the feeling (where do you feel it in your body)

2) Normalize the feeling (all humans feel these things)

3) Name the feeling (I am sad, I am angry, I am scared)

4) Allow the emotions to expand slowly (feel it, not avoid it, it will not take over you, if it begins to be too much, take breaths and give yourself a moment)

Why?

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 04 Sep 2023 11:13:30 GMT

Will Why Ever Make Sense?

I recently read something a mentor of mine shared. I read it, and it touched my heart. When someone we love gets murdered, the most significant need and question is ‘Why?’ Why them? Why our family? Why me? We search for why as if it will help us find the healing and hope we seek; however, I am confident this is untrue. The post was originally written by a lawyer who is blind, someone who knows struggle and resilience, much like you and me.

The post stated:

"I do not have the answer to the question of why, at least not now and not in this life. But I do know that there is incredible value in pain and suffering, if you allow yourself to experience it, to cry, to feel sorrow and grief, to hurt. Walk through the fire and you will emerge on the other end, whole and stronger. I promise. You will ultimately find truth and beauty and wisdom and peace. You will understand that nothing lasts forever, not pain or joy. You will understand that joy cannot exist without sadness. Relief cannot exist without pain. Compassion cannot exist without cruelty. Courage cannot exist without fear. Hope cannot exist without despair. Wisdom cannot exist without suffering. Gratitude cannot exist without deprivation. Paradoxes abound in this life. Living is an exercise in navigating within them.” – JYW.

REFLECTION : Keep it simple. Journal your thoughts on suffering and why. Do you need to know why? How will why help you move forward? Are you afraid of why?

The Work

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 28 Aug 2023 11:25:04 GMT

Processing is Responding

Our response to loss is crucial to the healing process. Grief work is not self-help, it is self-acceptance . We must not try to change ourselves through judgment or avoidance. For it is through self-acceptance, the process and healing will change us naturally. Accept yourself where you are today, AS you are . Eventually we will remember our loved one (s) with more love than pain. We can find compassion and patience for our pain and find the permanent love in the end.

To deny the feelings of loss that suffuse so many lives right now, or to deny the validity of those feelings, risks turning pain into suffering.

REFLECTION: Write a letter to your pain (or self) and jot the honest thoughts and feelings you have towards your pain. This is about letting it out (letting go) versus hiding behind avoidance or fear of feeling the pain. This is not an easy task, but possible. Honesty is key.

7 Needs When Responding to Grief

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 21 Aug 2023 11:10:29 GMT

Pain Must be Witnessed

Grief and pain must be seen, heard, and witnessed. We all want our life, death, and grief witnessed and felt. As you may know, we do not get over the grief and this kind of pain; we can only process and go through it. We learn to live with this. Eventually, we will remember our love MORE than our pain. We can learn to find compassion and patience and replace our pain, even temporarily. Pain is temporary, but our love, our love for our loved one, is forever. Our feelings change over time, let's choose love. We are biologically designed to avoid pain and seeking wholeness will take time and it will be worth it.

REFLECTION: Reflect on the following six needs when grieving and journal some thoughts. Going deeper with thoughts will always bring healing.

To have your pain witnessed- Acknowledge the reality of your pain, and meet them where they are. It's not “what's wrong with you; it's what happened to you.”

Express your feelings- Learn to check in with feelings, not just tell the story—no judging feelings.

Release the burden of guilt: Self-blame is normal. Our minds would instead feel guilty than helpless. The what if’s need to be evaluated and helped through. Change the what-if to even if….

OLD wounds: Our old wounds are included with our new wounds. Grief unlocks things. Have you ever had that feeling of self-blame before the death?

Integrate the pain and the love: Acceptance doesn’t happen simultaneously. Finding meaning in the pain, the wound can connect with the love of the person gone.

Finding meaning: Not finding meaning in the event but in ourselves afterward. Can we create a life that honors them?

The Oscillation of Grief

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 14 Aug 2023 12:08:17 GMT

Dual Process

There is a psychology term in the counseling world called Dual Process. I have become fascinated with this term because of the truth it holds. Essentially, it is described as two different grieving methods: loss-oriented and restoration-oriented. As we grieve, we go back and forth between these two different modes of being. These two separate processes are when someone we love dies. This is more complicated when someone is murdered, and it's important to know that. Knowing this term and its meaning can support learning more adaptive coping. In the dual grief process, we tend to move from confrontation or avoidance of the loss and restoration or resilience. Can you identify when you are on either side of this model?

"You may not control everything that happens to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them."

-Maya Angelou

Reflection: Part of restoring and healing is connecting to something bigger than us and not doing this alone. In moments of intense emotion, such as pain and sadness, we may need to connect to something greater than ourselves. This is unique, but I’ll use the term spirituality here. Right about a time you felt connected spiritually outside of yourself. How did it feel? What were your takeaways from the experience? How did it support restoration within you?

Grief Roles

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 07 Aug 2023 12:17:01 GMT

What Role Do You Play in Your Grief?

The word 'role' is defined as a function assumed and played by a person in a situation. We play a role in everything we participate in—life, families, jobs, relationships, and even grieving. The role is defined in a little more detail in a book called Processing Through Grief. Some roles include the caretaker who meets everyone else’s needs, the rational one who does not exhibit feelings or mediates the situation, or the emotional one who is overwhelmed and distraught and cannot be asked to do anything. There’s also the organizer, also known as the strong one. If you can identify with these roles, you should understand how they can affect how you grieve. Maintaining a position may not be what you need during this loss, but because it is the role expected of you by others or yourself, you may be doing it anyway. If you find yourself stuck in a role preventing you from getting your needs met, talk to your grieving friends and family and evaluate these needed boundaries.

REFLECTION :

We need a place to be heard, seen, and broken. We need a safe place to fall apart. Journal some people you can fall apart with safely and allow space for that. In addition, use these two prompts also:

I feel numb when I think about….

When I feel alone, I can….

The Choice of Forgiveness

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 31 Jul 2023 11:40:34 GMT

What is Forgiveness?

Forgiveness . Take a few minutes and consider what came to mind when you read the word 'forgiveness.' Forgiveness is a choice (either towards self or someone else), and it is a choice that one must make when they're ready to face the emotions it comes with. Forgiveness has shown to have psychological benefits as well as mental and physical health benefits. Forgiveness does not mean forgetting or condoning the wrongdoing, granting legal mercy, or reconciling a relationship. You can forgive a person while in no way believing that their actions were acceptable or justified. Forgiveness frees us from the burden not meant for us to carry when someone hurts us.

What forgiveness is not:

Reconciliation (repairing or

returning to a relationship). Forgetting the injustice. Condoning or excusing

the offender’s behavior and granting legal mercy to the offender. “Letting go”,

but wishing for revenge.

What forgiveness is:

The decision to overcome the pain

that another person inflicted. Letting go of anger, resentment, shame, and

other emotions associated with the injustice, even though they are validated

feelings, and showing the offender compassion, even though they are not

entitled to it.

REFLECTION: Take a moment and reflect on the following question: How can you improve your understanding of the injustice and how it has impacted your life? ( NOTE : This is not an exercise pushing or forcing you to forgive, it is designed for you to consider how forgiveness can help you heal on your terms.)

Remembering

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 24 Jul 2023 11:28:48 GMT

Memories

It is difficult to remember loved ones at times. It can bring pain, and it can bring comfort. We can find comfort in their smile, laugh, and presence when we remember them. We can also feel sadness and yearning for their presence when we remember them. Few things compare to the pain of losing someone you love. While there’s no way to avoid grief, healthier ways exist to cope with your loss. Allow yourself to feel these feelings. Memories, both positive and negative, can bring big emotions. Prepare yourself for the painful reminders and space to work through these emotions. Do not avoid these memories or the pain. Moving on or letting go doesn't mean we are forgetting them. The exercise below is something practical we can do daily to remember our loved ones.

Activity: Making a "Memory Cookie Jar"

Grab a jar similar to a cookie jar that you can decorate. Next, cut some paper into strips. Write down positive memories (and negative memories) of your loved one(s) on strips of paper. Roll each memory strip up and put it in the jar. You can grab a memory from your new jar whenever you're having a moment or want to remember your loved one.

Choices

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 17 Jul 2023 12:53:42 GMT

We Choose Our Load

Did you know we have a choice in the burden we carry? This may sound skeptical, considering someone caused you hurt by one deadly choice. The pain of losing one we love violently must be seen, witnessed, and heard. However, it also needs to be processed. The process of this pain allows us to choose how heavy we want this burden to be. We have no control over loss, but we have control over our thinking and perspective. Angry? Feel angry. Sad? Feel sad. Enraged? Feel enraged. Confused? Feel confused. Feel all of these feelings, do not allow yourself to carry them. This weight would be far too heavy. Groups, counseling, and support will enable us to feel these things without taking them on our shoulders. We have natural feelings of loss that we do not have to wear as a wardrobe but can feel and release however often we need to.

REFLECTION: Write down three (or more) things that you carry that needs to be released. Be honest. Then write a goodbye letter to whatever it was. Is it anger? Write a letter to the anger and release it. This will open your heart for the hope and purpose that can come from pain.

Guilt

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 10 Jul 2023 12:28:17 GMT

Different Types of Emotions

A common emotion we experience in grief and loss is guilt . Guilt is not a natural emotion, it is a manufactured emotion from our thoughts. Immediate reactions or emotions to a loss are natural and usually begin to go away at some point. Manufactured emotions are the emotions that stick around even past when they normally would have faded. These manufactured emotions may stem from a natural emotional reaction, but they stick around because of the individuals’ thoughts. Thoughts that contribute to manufactured emotions center around why it happened, how it could have been prevented, and how it changed the individual’s worldview . Murder changes one's worldview and negative thoughts can begin form that event. Various common manufactured emotions include shame, guilt, or fear, among others. These thoughts will tell us we could have changed something. Learn to discern which thoughts and emotions are natural and true and which are manufactured and not conducive to healing .

REFLECTION: Focusing on guilt, use the following prompts to process any lingering guilt.

1) I am sorry I....

2) I wish...

3) I am angry that...

4) If only I...

5) Why didnt...

Then journal thoughts that contribute to the feelings of guilt.

The Loss Beyond Death

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 03 Jul 2023 12:28:54 GMT

Grieving ALL that has been lost

Taking time to grieve the death is a part of the process when someone dies. We grieve who they were and we also grieve how they died so violently. We grieve who was taken. Another part of the process is to grieve who they would have been. Take time to grieve all that has been lost. The love, the laughter, all of the ups and downs, and what should of been. As we move through the pain and we press in just enough, there will be memories and love that offer us a cushion.

In my cycle spin class, when it is time to stand and pedal, our instructor often says "lean in , not on " so we can use our strength and not the bikes. It makes me think of pain and grief. It's there and it will be there. But let's learn to lean into the pain but not on the pain. It is important to not lean ON because we can easily get stuck there. Welcome it, let it go, and repeat.

REFLECTION: Allow yourself to remember something good and something bad with your loved one. Feel whatever comes and write it down. Remember and release. Catch and release.

Community Heals

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 26 Jun 2023 15:18:39 GMT

Are You Open to Help?

Healing comes through community. When I found out about my dad's murder, I felt very alone. I also was unsure of why when so many people seemed to be there. Murder is a lonely loss. We will experience people moving forward while we are standing still. Other people will say they understand but do not understand the depth of this loss. Community is genuinely what heals our grief and pain. Having people who care, love us where we are, and walk the daily battle with us is irreplaceable. When I began helping and showing up, I began healing what I could not fix. Wounded people wound people. Healed people help and heal people. Today we must focus on our healing and say yes to community and support.

REFLECTION: Write down three or more people who you can count on for support then write three or more ways you can help yourself welcome and allow that support. We can only receive with open arms.

Roles In Grief

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 19 Jun 2023 20:44:10 GMT

Victim Versus Survivor

In grief, we must release the role of victim. A victim mindset says: "I have no control and im hurting and helpless." This mindset will disable us from seeing what is there in support of moving past these thoughts. There are good things in the midst of great pain, there is hope. What will we choose to see? We will survive and live our life fully if we choose to do so. We cannot remain a victim and heal at the same time. Those who grieve well, live well. In grief we do not need to be fixed because we are not broken, we are simply hurting. We must show up for our grief and be present for it. Releasing the role of victim allows us to see through a healing lens versus hurt. It enables us to take responsibility for our ability to move forward and deal with our pain more appropriately.

REFLECTION: Take out pen and paper. Write down 3-5 ways you can be a victim versus a survivor. Write down what you desire to see and feel even in the midst of this struggle.

Catch and Release

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 12 Jun 2023 15:22:15 GMT

What Role Does Anger Play in Our Grief?

Catch and release is a term for fishing. A fisherman will catch a fish and immediately release it. Who is to say that the fisherman doesn't hold the fish for a minute and ponder on keeping it? Grief brings emotion. Anger is a deep emotion that is a part of this process. Anger is a part of healing grief. When my dad was killed, I was angry. I was angry at him, his killer, the police, and anyone really. My anger led me to sadness and I found new ways to channel it all. We can catch the feelings, hold them for a minute but we do not have to keep them. We can and should ;catch and release' our anger. We must find healthy ways to release the anger such as a safe therapeutic space, screaming in the car, working out, but whatever you decide, you cannot do this alone. We need a space to feel it but not keep it. We need a place where someone else can hold it for and with us. Anger does not have to define us or our loss. Will you release your anger today?

REFLECTION: Write down 5 things that anger you about your loved one's death, crumble the paper or rip it, whatever you choose, RELEASE it from your heart. This can be done over and over. This is never a one and done.

Running Doesn't Change the Pain

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 05 Jun 2023 11:50:12 GMT

We Must Feel to Heal

I used to be a runner and I do not mean the athlete type. In fact, anything that caused any ounce of discomfort, I was out! Then my dad was murdered. This pain was different and not something I could completely run from or ignore. I could not mask the pain very long through other avenues such as relationships, food, substances, or anything else humans attempt to hide pain with. The grief is there to heal the pain. Grief is the intense wave of emotion that is unable to be ignored whereas grieving is the process that occurs over and over. We do not run from grief, we actually attempt to run from the pain of the loss. Grief is a gift to heal the pain.

REFLECTION:

Grab your coffee or tea and a journal. Write down three things you fear, three things you're grateful for. and three things you have discovered in your grief.

Something New

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 29 May 2023 10:57:35 GMT

How Can One Rebuild After a Tragic Loss?

There is no right way to grieve. One's life is different than everyone else's and so is their grief. How does one remain open? Grief may not seem like a time joy is available in such a world of hurt. Maybe joy and peace seem far away when in moments of grief. Grief can be a time of reimagining, renewal and rebuilding. it will not feel easy to try new things, get out of bed, or even function through the day as before on some days. Feelings are fickle. Grief is a journey and a process. We must begin to allow the pain to grow into purpose. Beauty can and will come from ashes. After a tragic loss, the reality is that we will never be the same.

Reflect: Do one small new thing today, whether a new experience, food, music, or new outfit. Talk to someone new. Whatever it is, be open to something new today.

Understanding YOUR Grief

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 22 May 2023 12:40:25 GMT

Your Grief is Your Grief

Grief is as unique as your DNA. It is yours. Therefore, it is yours to understand. Grief is a reflection of love. Most would rather love and grieve then to have never experienced their loved one at all. Our grief hurts because our love lives on. Your grief reflects a unique love and no one can know your exact grief. Remember that your love and your grief is solely yours. We strive to be understood in our pain. Let's first seek to understand our own grief first.

REFLECTION: Write down some thoughts on your grief. What did you imagine grief to be? Write a letter to your grief. Dear Grief, I am angry that... I am grateful for... Continue to seek understanding and carry this with purpose.

Letting Go is Not Forgetting

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 15 May 2023 12:23:54 GMT

How Could We Forget Our loved One?

So many people walk into my office and fear letting go of their pain. I have come to the conclusion that for them, letting go of their pain is congruent with forgetting their loved one. Forgetting the memories, letting go of the case (solved or unsolved) or actually having to face the trauma of this loss. Healing grief does not mean we forget. How could we? We will never stop loving them therefore we can never forget them. There will always be a void or a hole in our hearts for their loss, and it will hurt. When we release pain and suffering from our loss, the grief will hurt less. Normal reactions such as sadness and hurt does not have to equal suffering. Like a physical wound, the sting will lessen and grow into a scar. Allow the power of your grief to further your healing and remember love is forever. Grief is love persevering. We release pain not our loved one.

REFLECTION: Write your loved one a letter and release some of the pain and feelings you are holding onto. Say goodbye and remember goodbye is not final, merely a release of pain.

Days of Grief

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 08 May 2023 12:29:49 GMT

Grief Throughout the Year

The heaviness one feels from a traumatic loss daily is often unseen. It is those small moments of remembering the loss, the small reminders that bring big and scary emotions. It can be a random Monday morning or a day like Mother's day. Grief hits us like a ton of bricks on some days, and other days, it's a part of us and not as noticable. Honor your grief on those days. Others may not remember the pain, or your pain may feel minimized. Do not wait for others to remember or for it to look different. Do not search for others to understand it. Embrace it for yourself. Only you will know the magnitude of your loss and grief. Carry it along with grace for yourself and others.

If there is one thing I've learned about grief it's that it cannot be rushed. Our feelings and emotions cannot be bottled up... certainly not for long without causing an infection. The grief storm needs to rage. Our hurt needs to be expressed. Grief demands to be felt.

Reflection: What are you in most need of on your heaviest days? Give that to yourself. Write down memories, thoughts, and name your feelings. Naming what we feel gives life to our healing.

The Fear of Grief

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 01 May 2023 16:36:52 GMT

Do You Fear Grief?

Fear. Fear is one of the core root feelings left from traumatic loss. Fear of the unknown, the need to understand, and the deep need for control since the loss is completely out of one's control. The world around us shrinks and we begin to shrink with it. There is a lot of healing and acceptance when fears get faced.

Do not be afraid of your grief, let it out today! Let it breathe, befriend it; do not hide from it. It will not overpower you. Some days grief feels like tsunami but some days it is a wave. These waves will not always knock you over. Learn to surf the painful waves and develop compassion for the the pain.

Reflection: Journal prompt:

After (insert what happened) I felt….
I am most afraid of...
Today I am grateful for...

Traumatic Loss and it's Impact

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 24 Apr 2023 18:18:34 GMT

Trauma Causes Wounds: We Heal from the Inside Out

Wounded people tend to wound people. If this is true, then healed people heal people. When we focus on healing, we are able to face the trauma caused by murder loss. When someone chooses to end our loved one's life in violence, there is little control we have over how this makes us feel. Let's discuss trauma and its great impact on our world. The greek word for trauma is wound. Like a physical wound, we must nurture and take care of our emotional wounds. This includes cleaning it, acknowledging changes that it has caused, and more. Consider the following:

· Just like physical wounds, emotional wounds come in all shapes and sizes.

· Some wounds are easily visible to others while others remain hidden or develop slowly over time.

· Emotional wounds, just like physical wounds, can affect people in different ways.

· Although wounds can happen quickly, they take a long time to heal, and no two people heal at the same rate.

· Both physical and emotional wounds heal from the inside out.

· For healing to begin, initial first aid steps must be taken to stop the bleeding.

· Proper treatment (therapy and support groups) is essential for the healing process.

· Even when a wound heals and is no longer painful, scars can remain.

· The scar that remains is tougher the surrounding skin.

· Even when the cause of injury is similar, the resulting wounds can be vastly different (we all grieve so differently).

Reflect on these truths and journal what comes to mind for your own personal journey.

Let the Healing Begin

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Mon, 17 Apr 2023 17:01:21 GMT

Letting Go is Apart of Healing

Grief from a murder loss creates many emotions. Some days we can feel nothing; some days, we handle everything simultaneously. When I lost my father, I felt numb. Numbness is a part of grief. Another type of feeling that can come is regret. Regret and blame can be a huge part of losing someone to murder. Why weren't we able to save them? What if I had been around more? What if I prayed more? Did they know they were loved? These are thoughts that can keep us stuck in our loss and stuck in the past. Regret, guilt, and blame are manufactured feelings we create from negative thoughts about our pain.

Regrets keep us stuck in the past and make us doubt the future.

They keep us holding onto what was instead of looking to what can be. Accept

the loss, feel the pain, and let go no matter how many times that takes.

Release yourself from these feelings of guilt and blame and replace them with

compassion and grace.

REFLECTION: What negative thoughts have created stuck points for you in your grief? Journal some thoughts down...

-Katie Wiggins

Not your Average Good Friday

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Fri, 07 Apr 2023 12:45:58 GMT

Suffering is NOT the End

Pain is inevitable in traumatic grief. Suffering is optional. God NEVER wastes our pain and suffering. He will not abandon us in it. He is with us in it all. Lean in

-Katie Wiggins, Founder

Suffering may be a part of our story, but it doesn’t have the final say in our story.

Heartbreak may be a part of our story, but it doesn’t have the final say in our story.

Grief may be a part of our story, but it doesn’t have the final say in our story.

Good Friday is our reminder that when everything feels lost, when darkness seems to take over, there is hope on the way. We know a better ending because we know a victorious Savior. Darkness may last for a while, but joy comes in the morning. (Psalm 30:5)

Easter isn’t just an annual celebration. It’s a personal revelation for right now. It’s where the unknowns of today feel less excruciating because of the certain victory of tomorrow. Oh, friend, take heart. Keep holding on to the hope you have in Jesus. He really does understand the depth of carrying sorrow and hope at the same time.

Keep these Good Friday reminders for an ordinary day when you need to be reminded you are not walking alone in your pain. Jesus hears you. He sees you. He understands you.

-Lysa Turkeurst

Your Response to Loss

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Thu, 06 Apr 2023 16:27:10 GMT

How OPEN are you?

Anger is a part of healing grief. It is important to not let anger grow within you. When we find healthy ways to open with our feelings and anger, we find ways to release it safely. Scream it out! Write it out. Just Get it out. A broken heart from grief is also an open heart. Vulnerability is a strength in grief. Do not run from your openness. In pain, you will find purpose.

Ongoing Healing

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Tue, 28 Feb 2023 16:41:13 GMT

Healing is always ongoing...

Healing is ongoing. We never truly arrive but instead we are always involving. We must accept, we will never be who we were when we experienced our loss. Grief hurts. Grief stings. Grief changes us. You may not be able to see it now, however, after the loss, you will rebuild yourself. You have been given an opportunity to create your new self. Who will you choose to be now?

How Do You Carry Your Grief?

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Tue, 14 Feb 2023 20:02:57 GMT

The Reality of Grief

“The reality of grief is far different from what others see from the outside. There is pain in this world that you can't be cheered out of. You don't need solutions. You don't need to move on from your grief. You need someone to see your grief, to acknowledge it. You need someone to hold your hands while you stand there in blinking horror, staring at the hole that was your life. Some things cannot be fixed. They can only be carried.”
― Megan Devine, It's OK That You're Not OK: Meeting Grief and Loss in a Culture That Doesn't Understand

Allowing Change to Happen

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Wed, 01 Feb 2023 20:15:22 GMT

Change is inevitable...

From the book “Moving Through Grief by Gretchen Kubacky, PsyD

Resisting, and refusing change is not only impossible, it’s impractical, and it compounds you’re suffering. Haruki Murakami, in What I talk About When I Talk About Running, says “pain is inevitable, suffering is optional. Say you are running and you think, ‘Man this hurts, I can’t take it anymore.’ The hurt part is an unavoidable reality, but whether or not, you can stand any more, is up to the runner himself.” Choosing suffering on top of the pain just compounds the pain. Choosing resistance leads to difficult thoughts and uncomfortable emotions which leads to unproductive behaviors.

The Griever's Bill of Rights

Tue, 24 Jan 2023 15:24:17 GMT

What are your rights as someone who is grieving?

The Griever’s Bill of Rights

You have the right to:

Say time out
Tell it like it is
“Bah humbug” days
Do things differently
Be where you want to be
Have some fun
Change directions in mid-stream
Do things at different times
Rest, peace, and solitude
Do it all differently again next year
Grace for you and others

The Weight of Grief

info@healingrootssupport.org (Katie Wiggins) — Thu, 19 Jan 2023 16:56:21 GMT

Any type of loss brings a variety of emotions to the surface, such as denial, anger, guilt, anger, or loss of control. What that looks and feels like it’s completely unique to you. Initially, we may feel shock and disbelief and immediately want to retreat to a state of autopilot in order to function in our daily life. We may seek to distance ourselves from the reality of the loss to keep intense feelings at bay. Wherever you are, this is your starting point, and exactly where you need to be. Now is the time to tend to what your body and mind need in order to nurture your heart. Your willingness to lean into your self-care work will lessen the weight of your grief.

From the guided journal, Navigating Grief by Mia Roldan

The Root of Healing Blog

Networking

The Grief No One Prepares You For

Hope is Here

Voicemails

Advocacy

Holes

The Myth of “I’ve Got This”

20 Years

When Avoiding Pain Costs Us More

Grief Isn't Gentle Today

The Suffering

Complicated

When Healing Feels Slow

God Is With You

Slow Is Still Progress

Reflection

A Gentle New Year Focus

A Softer Way to Enter the New Year

Complicatedly Uncomplicated

Intentional Healing

Step 1: Notice the Thought

Step 2: Gently Question It

Step 3: Choose a Healing Thought

Step 4: Repeat Daily

Preparing for the Holidays

1. Name What You’re Feeling

2. Create One Simple Ritual

3. Make Space for Both Joy and Tears

4. Plan Your “Support Moments.”

5. Lower the Pressure

A Love Letter To Self

When Thanks is Hard to Find

Remembering Without the Sting

Letting Love In Again After Loss

The Quiet Grief Hidden in The Mundane

Grateful

A NIGHT OF REMEMBRANCE

Again

The Stories We Tell Ourselves in Grief

When the Caregiver Gets Sick: Mothering Through the Hard Weeks

Seasons

The Raft We Carry: A Grief Reflection

Rooted

Scar Tissue

Grief Is a Charcuterie Board

You Can

On My Mind

Met in Our Grief

Grace in the Breakdown

For the Motherless Mother Becoming a Single One ﻿

Form and the Weight We Carry

Connection

The Weeping of a Mother

Stunned by Grief

Manilla Folder

The Day the Princess of Wales Knew My Name

June 9th

When the Pain is BIG

1. Breathe Through the Waves

2. Let It Out in a Safe Way

3. Don’t Do It Alone

4. Make Space for Rest and Nourishment

5. Create a Way to Honor Your Child

When the Boxes Multiply: Living with Layered Grief

Expanding the Ball in the Box Theory to Make Room for Real Life

Surfacing

Every Holy Moment

Bittersweet

To a Bereaved Mother

Wedding Anniversary

Power

Niece(s) and Nephew(s)

The Drive

Not (Yet) Answered

The Grief Walk

Springtime

When the Longing Returns

Eve

The Journey

For the Motherless Mother Becoming a Single One