One of the hardest things about grief is realizing you can’t simply go back to who you were before your loss. There are only really two stages: before the loss and after the loss. You can’t unknow what you now know. Sometimes grief feels like being locked out of a house that used to be your home. You can still see the warmth inside. You can see the life you once had. But you’re standing outside, longing to go back. You see others moving on, living life as you wish you could. For many who have experienced traumatic loss, especially the loss of a child, the world may look the same, but you are not the same person living in it. This reminds me of a bible story I read recently, when Jesus said: “Neither do they put new wine into old wineskins…” — Matthew 9:17 Essentially, new wine needed a wineskin that could stretch. And sometimes grief requires the same of us. We cannot always fit our new reality into the person we were before our loss. Grief changes us. It changes how we see the world, our relationships, our faith, and even ourselves. And sometimes, we’re not only grieving the person we lost. We’re grieving the person we were before we lost them. Healing doesn’t mean going back. It means learning how to carry what happened while still making room for love, purpose, faith, and hope. You may never be able to go back. But that doesn’t mean there is nowhere to go. There is still a way forward.

Grief doesn’t follow a timeline. It doesn’t mean we stop loving our children, and it doesn’t mean we forget. Sometimes, what changes is our relationship with the grief itself . In the beginning, grief can feel like it consumes everything. Over time, there may be moments when we can breathe a little deeper, laugh without feeling guilty, or remember our loved one and feel something other than pain. And then there are the things that still hurt just as deeply. That’s okay, too. Healing doesn’t mean that everything becomes easier. Sometimes healing looks like learning how to carry what happened while continuing to live, love, remember, and find moments of meaning along the way. Today, take a moment to reflect: What feels lighter than it used to? Maybe something you once couldn’t do, think about, or talk about feels a little more manageable now. What still hurts just as much? You don’t have to minimize it. Some parts of grief may always be tender. What have you learned about yourself through this loss? Maybe you’ve discovered strength you didn’t know you had. Maybe you’ve learned what matters most. Maybe you’ve learned that you can survive days you never imagined having to live. There is no “right” or "wrong" way to grieve. You don’t have to choose between healing and remembering. You can and will do both. Our loved ones will always be part of our story. And as you continue forward, you get to decide how you carry their memory with you. We remember. We grieve. We heal. We carry their stories forward.

My mom had a much-needed surgery in February that ended up infected. Then, when home after 3 months in the hospital, she fell and fractured her hip. Here we are 4 months later, and she is home again. We are literally watching her learn to walk again and care for herself. It has been an up-and-down journey with no way of knowing the outcome. Much like loss. It is up and down, changes a lot, and has no true outcome. Watching my mom recover from her fractured hip has reminded me of something we often forget: broken bones heal, but healing doesn't mean everything goes back to the way it was before. The bone may mend, but there are still hard days. There are days when standing is difficult, walking requires help, and simple tasks take more effort than they once did. No one would tell someone with a broken leg, "You should be running by now." We understand that healing is a process. Yet when it comes to emotional pain and grief, we often expect ourselves, or others, to be "over it" once enough time has passed. The truth is, hearts heal much like broken bones. Healing doesn't erase what happened. It doesn't mean there won't be days when you need extra support. It doesn't mean you won't limp through certain seasons or need someone to walk beside you. It simply means your wounds are no longer defining your future, even if they still affect your present. There is no shame in needing help. There is no failure in having difficult days after you've made progress. Healing is rarely a straight line. It looks more like learning to live again, one careful step at a time. So if today is a day where you need a hand, give yourself the same grace you would offer someone recovering from a broken bone. Healing is happening, even when it feels slow.

When someone you love has been murdered, life can feel like it has been shattered in an instant. Nothing is the same again. Our hopes, plans, and world as we knew it, instantly changed. And it was completely out of our control. You didn't choose this. You can't undo what happened. The justice system may feel painfully slow, or there may never be the answers you desperately need. The future can feel uncertain, and some days it seems like everything is beyond your control. While you can't change what happened, there are still a few things that are yours. 1. You Can Control Your Next Step You don't have to know how you'll survive the next day, week, month, or year. You only have to focus on today . Maybe your next step is getting out of bed and going outside for a few minutes. Attending your support group. Calling a friend. Using your healthy resources. Healing doesn't happen all at once. It happens one small step at a time. 2. You Can Control How You Care for Yourself Grief is exhausting, right? It is hard emotionally, physically, and spiritually. Permit yourself to rest. Eat something nourishing. Cry when you need to. Set boundaries when you're overwhelmed. Ask for help without guilt. Taking care of yourself isn't forgetting your loved one. It's making sure you have the strength to carry their memory forward. Set boundaries that are not rooted in avoidance 3. You Can Control Where You Place Your Focus Your mind may constantly replay the tragedy, the unanswered questions, or the "what ifs." While those thoughts are understandable, they don't have to be the only place you live. Alongside the pain, make room for your loved one's smile, their laugh, their favorite stories, and the love that still connects you. The tragedy is part of their story, but it is not the whole story. There will always be things outside of your control after a murder loss. But every day, you still have choices. One small step. One act of self-care. One moment of remembering love alongside loss. Those choices won't erase your grief, but they can help you find your footing again, one day at a time. What is one small thing you've been able to control this week, even in the middle of your grief?

When the Answers Don't Come One of the hardest parts of losing a child (anyone) to violence and murder is living with unanswered questions. You may wonder why it happened, who knows more than they're saying, or if justice will ever come. Those questions matter. Wanting answers doesn't make you weak or unhealed; it makes you human. But while justice may bring accountability, it cannot bring your loved one back or erase the pain we must live with. Healing doesn't begin when the case is solved. It begins in the small choices we make each day to keep living, even while carrying grief. Today, ask yourself one simple question: "What is one thing I can do today that helps me live, not just survive?" Maybe it's taking a walk, calling a friend, eating a meal, praying, or allowing yourself to laugh without guilt. You don't have to stop hoping for justice. You also don't have to wait for it before choosing to live. Both can exist at the same time. Allow them to.

Their death will always be the greatest sadness of our lives, but that doesn't mean we have to live a sad life. As a mother who has lost a child, you may wonder if healing means forgetting. You may worry that if you laugh again, enjoy life again, or find happiness again, you are somehow leaving your child behind. But healing is not forgetting. The death of your child may always be the greatest sadness of your life. It is a loss that changes you forever. The love you have for your child does not end, and neither does the impact they have on your heart. Yet two things can be true at the same time. You can miss your child every day and still experience joy. You can carry grief and still find purpose. You can love your child deeply while continuing to live fully. Many grieving mothers struggle with guilt when moments of happiness return. It can feel wrong to smile, laugh, or dream about the future when someone so important is missing. But your love for your child is not measured by how much pain you carry. Love is measured by the bond that continues, even after death. Living a meaningful life does not dishonor your child. It honors the love you shared. You do not have to choose between grieving and living. Their death may always be the greatest sadness of your life, but it does not have to become the whole story. You are still allowed to laugh. You are still allowed to hope. You are still allowed to dream.  And you are still allowed to build a life that holds both deep sorrow and deep love.

As a new month begins, you may notice mixed emotions. I don't think it takes a new month to feel those emotions. Some people feel hopeful and motivated. Others feel tired, overwhelmed, or discouraged that healing isn’t happening as quickly as they hoped. Wherever you find yourself today, it’s okay. Because that is grief, up and down, side to side. Healing isn’t measured by how productive you are or how much progress you make in a month. Sometimes healing looks like getting through a difficult day, reaching out for support, setting a boundary, or simply giving yourself permission to rest. This month, consider adding one new coping resource to your toolbox. It doesn’t have to be complicated. Maybe it’s taking a short walk, spending five minutes in prayer or mindfulness, journaling before bed, listening to calming music, or talking with someone you trust, lowering comparison to others. You don’t need an entirely new version of yourself. You need the next small step. As always, remember that support is available. Healing happens in connection, not isolation. Be gentle with yourself this month. Growth often happens in ways we can’t immediately see. One day at a time is all we have.

One thing I have learned from working with mothers of great loss, survival is sometimes all they have. Losing a child to violence changes everything. Some days may feel unbearable. Other days may feel numb. You may cry one moment and feel completely disconnected the next. BUT None of this means you are grieving “wrong.” Sometimes survival itself is enough. Start Smaller Than You Think In deep grief, even simple things can feel hard. Instead of focusing on getting through the week, try focusing on the next small step: drink some water (yes, water) step outside for a moment eat something simple answer one text rest when you can (pausing helps) Small things still matter. Grief Does Not Move in a Straight Line Some days, the pain may feel lighter. Other days, it may feel fresh all over again. That does not mean you are moving backward. Birthdays, holidays, songs, or memories can bring the grief back unexpectedly. Be gentle with yourself when they do. You Do Not Have to Be Strong All the Time Many grieving mothers try to carry everyone else while hiding their own pain. But you are allowed to need support too. You are allowed to say: “I’m struggling today.” “I need help.” “I don’t have the energy right now.” Needing support is human. Coping Does Not Mean Forgetting Healing does not mean leaving your child behind. You can continue loving and remembering your child while also learning how to care for yourself again. Some mothers find comfort in: journaling lighting candles looking through photos speaking their child’s name spending time with safe people There is no right way to remember someone you love. On the Hardest Days When the grief feels overwhelming, try to focus only on the next hour instead of the future. Breathe. Rest. Cry if you need to. Reach out to someone safe. You do not have to figure everything out today. A Final Reminder Your child mattered. Your grief makes sense. And even in the middle of unimaginable pain, you deserve care, support, and gentleness too.

Mother’s Day can feel like it belongs to everyone else when you’re grieving. The world is full of flowers, celebrations, and expectations we cannot escape, and meanwhile, your heart may feel heavy, quiet, or even numb. If this is you, you’re not alone. Grief and love live in the same place. The depth of your pain reflects the depth of your connection. Whether you’re a mother missing your child, a daughter missing your mom, or holding both at once, this weekend may bring waves. Let them come. You don’t have to rush through them or make the day look a certain way. It’s okay to do Mother’s Day differently. It is okay to be honest about your heartbreak. You might choose to keep it simple, or you might also need distraction, rest, or space from it all. There is no “right” way to move through this day, only what feels most needed for you. If joy finds you, even briefly, you are allowed to hold that too. Love doesn’t disappear in grief; it changes shape. Sometimes it shows up as tears, sometimes as quiet strength to keep moving, and sometimes as a small moment of peace you didn’t expect. This coming Mother's Day, be compassionate to yourself. Lower expectations. Say no when you need to. Say yes to what brings even a little comfort. Surround yourself with people who understand and see you. Most of all, remember this: You are still a mother. You are still deeply connected to the love you carry. And that love has not been lost.