Grief Digest Articles

Sometimes along the path of grief, we experience mysterious moments—times in which we have thoughts that change our story of grief. These “aha” moments allow us to see our loss in a new way. They help to make meaning out of our suffering, offering healing and hope. Here is such a story about a mother’s loss of her son.Mary Alice opened her worn, red leather billfold and withdrew the old photograph of a thin, sick toddler in denim overalls. Her son had died before his second birthday, and she had …

Life was so easy that first summer that Tom and I were married. During the summer evenings, we would leash the dog and take off for a walk in the dark because we could not get enough of the luxurious nights. The whippoorwills and barred owls sung from the trees, as we wended our way under the verdant arching branches. “It hurts,” my nine-year-old son Spenser said. He pointed to his thorax region. His pale face, shrouded by darkness, expressed no intense pain. Neither did his voice. Instead, his …

Duality. It is most certainly possible to feel two things at once, even sorrow and joy.I was born to a woman who taught me by example to hold sorrow and joy. My twin brother and I were born one month after our Dad died suddenly of a heart attack. Our Mom knew sorrow yet she chose joy, laughter, and everything in between.On the first day of my senior year of college the phone rang, it was my Mom she had been diagnosed with a Glioblastoma. She began treatment while I finished my senior year. I gra …

There used to be a dog food commercial on television that always brought tears to my eyes. It showed a young girl running up a flight of stairs and calling for a friend. The friend, a red haired Irish Setter puppy, struggles up the stairs like any clumsy puppy would. The next time she calls, the dog is a vibrant, full grown dog full of energy, chasing after his teenage companion. As the commercial ends, a beautiful woman calls, and an elderly Irish Setter, with a white muzzle struggles up th …

On November 23rd, 2018, the day after Thanksgiving, John Vincent Kaplan took his own life. He was 43 years old.I met John in September of 1993 when I was 17 and he was 18. We had been set up by a mutual friend, upon whom he had a massive crush. Said friend basically just wanted to get him off her back. John was exactly what my silly adolescent mind considered to be perfect boyfriend material: he was beautiful (vaguely resembled Jim Morrison, his idol); he had the soul of a tortured poet; great s …