Grief Digest Articles

By Amie Ndure "Such a weird, pulling, overly complex experience. So universal yet contrastingly painfully unique, isolating and personal. She didn't just leave or die, I'm constantly losing her but by bit which is probably the most painful part. First it was her scent, then how she hugged with so much warmth and excitement and now how she sounds. I don't know where to look for her anymore, anywhere I seem to try pushes me down piercing and confronting realities I can't find her and I don't think …

Eileen Vorbach Collins Your death wasn’t real. I knew you’d come back, that it was, all of it, a bad dream. The worst dream ever dreamed. When after the first day of shiva— after I laughed and chatted, served cake and coffee, after the people went home to their lives—it became real, I thought I would never laugh again. I couldn’t hear, the silence was so loud without you. Those tickets to a comedy show bought long before, now felt so wrong. But just months after you …

By Soledad Morillo Belloso  Widowhood is not just the absence of a partner; it is an intricate tapestry woven from silence, memories, and a constant grappling with the strange, shifting contours of life. Experts might call it "a process," a "stage of grief," or a "transition," but these sterile terms fail to capture the raw, unfiltered essence of what it means to navigate the world as a widow.  What they often don’t tell you is the profound loneliness that isn’t solved by c …

Dawn Allen Dawn, I’m so sorry for your loss, call me if you need anything. I heard this phrase more times than I can count when I lost my husband Ash to that vicious unrelentless disease called cancer. In that moment, it was just words, it didn’t mean anything to me. I had just lost my husband of 12 years, the father of my children, who were ages 13 and 8 at the time. I didn’t know what I needed. I was on autopilot I had been on autopilot for months. One day a man who never got …

By Jenny Leavitt I never expected to lose my child. I don’t think any mother does. When my son Jacob died in a car crash—killed instantly by a drunk driver—my world split wide open. Just moments before, I was the mother of two boys. A woman of faith who believed in miracles, purpose, and divine protection. Then, in a single second, I was someone else. People saw me as a “grieving mother.” But grief is more than sorrow. It’s disorientation. It’s forgettin …