Grief Digest Articles

Silent Suffering By Linda Donart YoungOn the inside, I’ve wanted to write this for years. On the outside I continue to smile and ignore the knot inside of me screaming “you must tell.” The knot continues to scream, this story must be heard! The knot continues to ask me why am I “uncomfortable” sharing? Do I think I’m the only one suffering in silence? Why is the topic of becoming a young widow taboo? Yesterday the knot won.I’ve shared being raised in a small community. My life lessons ca …

Dealing with grief while learning a new way to love.By: Whitney SirekI was 26 years old when my mom died in 2019. I never imagined living a life without her, she would warn me of this day. Often saying things like “One day I won’t be here”, and “You’ll miss me when I'm gone”. I never felt what she meant until the day I lost her. The world around me turned from vivid and bright to dull and slow.My mother’s name was Lois she had me at the age of 42. She was an old-school Italian American …

By Pamela Hoopes, LCSW"Missing" is a feeling associated with some kind of loss. It is an aspect of grief that is inevitable. Missing typically is a quiet, personal, private emotion. For me, it is a difficult and sometimes lonely one. I have learned to embrace what once was with appreciation. Have you ever thought about this before?It may seem like an action, a verb, "to miss" – but, if you really 'feel' the word, breathe in the word, it is so much more. The feeling can be heartbreaking, heavy an …

by Bridget Bagely and Hogan Hilling On August 28, 2023 Time Magazine published an article “America Has Reached Peak Therapy. Why Is Our Mental Health Getting Worse?” It stated “As more people flock to therapy, U.S. mental health is getting worse by multiple metrics. Suicide rates have risenby about 30% since 2000. Almost a third of U.S. adults now report symptoms of either depression or anxiety." This information reveals that traditional therapy isn’t working.Are you tired of the way our c …

The last day I saw my father alive was the day before he died. On a chilly, late autumn day, my father’s dog and I drove to my parents’ home for our “normal” visit. As always, when we exited the highway, Murphy paced in the back seat and barked with his usual anticipatory excitement. My father Jerry loved dogs…as a young boy…as a teenager…as a man. He had Rollo and Dardy, Leo, and Prince, and he always took good care of them. As Jerry got older, so did his dogs, and each one died of old a …