Sometimes, it feels like no one truly understands what we are going through. We may feel misunderstood, disappointed by the way others respond to our loss, or exhausted from trying to explain a pain that words cannot fully capture. For moms who have lost a child to murder, that pain can feel especially isolating. The world keeps moving, but our lives have been forever changed. Even the people who love us may struggle to understand the weight we carry. Sometimes, pulling away feels easier. We stop answering calls and messages. We decline invitations. We convince ourselves that staying home is better than trying to explain how we feel. And sometimes, we simply do not have the emotional energy to be around anyone. There is nothing wrong with needing time alone to grieve. Solitude can give us space to breathe, cry, remember, and process emotions that feel too heavy to carry in front of others. But there is a difference between choosing solitude and isolation. We need rest but isolating ourselves because we feel no one could possibly understand causes more suffering. Why Do We Pull Away? Sometimes, we pull away because people have said hurtful things, offered advice we did not ask for, or expected us to heal on a timeline that does not fit our experience. We may fear being misunderstood or feel pressure to make others comfortable with our sadness. Other times, we withdraw because our grief is simply heavier that day. Whatever the reason, it is okay to acknowledge what you need. You do not have to attend every gathering, answer every message, or explain your grief to everyone. Learning to Let People In Connection does not have to mean a crowded room, a long conversation, or pretending to be okay. It might look like answering one text, having coffee with someone who understands, taking a short walk with a trusted friend, or sitting quietly beside someone who does not need you to find the right words. If connecting feels overwhelming, start small. Before deciding to withdraw, gently ask yourself: Am I staying home because I genuinely need rest, or because I am afraid of being misunderstood? Have I been feeling unsupported or disconnected lately? What do I need most right now: solitude, comfort, understanding, or companionship? Is there one person with whom I feel safe enough to be honest? How might I feel later if I give myself the opportunity to connect? These questions are not meant to create guilt. They are simply invitations to listen to yourself and recognize what you need in this moment. You Don't Have to Grieve Alone Sometimes, healing begins when we realize we do not have to explain everything to be understood. Sometimes, it begins when we sit beside another mom who knows what it means to carry a loss that has changed everything. And sometimes, healing begins with one small step toward connection on a day when isolation feels easier. You are allowed to need space, and you are allowed to need people. Both can be true. If you are grieving today, please remember that you do not have to navigate every difficult moment on your own. You deserve compassion, community, and a place where your child's life and your grief are honored.

Facing anxiety When Your Mind Tries to Protect Your Heart is most likely a part of the grief you have experienced. Grief doesn’t only bring sadness. Sometimes, it brings anxiety . For anyone who has lost a loved one to murder, anxiety can show up in ways that are difficult to explain. You may find yourself constantly thinking about what could happen next, replaying what happened, worrying about others you love, struggling to sleep, or feeling like you always need to be prepared for the next painful thing. And sometimes, anxiety can feel like the truth. BUT anxiety is not always telling us what is happening. Sometimes, it is our mind and body responding to what we have already survived. So what do we do? Name it when it shows up. One of the most powerful things we can do is recognize anxiety for what it is. Maybe your heart starts racing. Maybe your thoughts begin spiraling. Maybe you feel restless, overwhelmed, or unable to focus. Maybe your mind starts asking, “What if something happens again?” Instead of judging yourself for feeling this way, pause and notice it. We do not have to let it control us. Naming what you're experiencing can create a little space between you and the anxiety. Pay attention to your body. Grief lives in our bodies, too. Anxiety may show up as a tight chest, sweaty palms, a racing heart, shallow breathing, exhaustion, or that familiar feeling of being on high alert. When you begin to recognize your own signs, you can respond sooner. Take a deep breath. Put your feet on the floor. Pray. Talk to someone you trust. Step outside. Give yourself permission to slow down. You don't have to make the anxiety disappear. Sometimes the goal is simply to ride the wave without allowing it to carry you away.  When anxiety comes, gently remind yourself: “I can acknowledge my fear without allowing it to lead me. I can breathe through this moment. I can seek support. I can take this one moment at a time.” Healing doesn't mean we stop missing our loved one. It means learning how to carry the love, the loss, and everything that comes with it, while continuing to live. You are allowed to take it one breath, one moment, and one day at a time.

Grief can feel incredibly lonely. Even when surrounded by people who love you, it can be difficult to explain what you’re experiencing to someone who hasn’t walked through loss themselves. There is something powerful about connecting with another bereaved person. They may not have experienced the same loss, but they understand the reality of living with grief. 1. You feel less alone. Connecting with someone who understands can remind you that you aren’t the only one navigating this complicated journey. 2. You feel understood. Sometimes you don’t need advice or answers. You simply need someone who gets it, someone who understands the difficult days, unexpected triggers, and changing emotions. 3. You can say their name. Talking about your loved one keeps their memory present. You shouldn’t have to worry that saying their name will make someone uncomfortable. 4. You feel seen and supported. Grief doesn’t look the same for everyone. Having a safe space to be honest about your feelings can bring validation and comfort. 5. You learn from one another. Other grieving people can share coping tools, ideas, traditions, and experiences that may help you navigate your own grief. You don’t have to grieve alone. Sharing your grief won’t take away the pain, but having someone beside you who understands can make the journey feel a little less lonely. Sometimes, connection is exactly what we need.

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.