A Gift for Mom! 🤍

An empty chair.

One fewer place to set.

One fewer present to buy.

No matter how many years have passed, the holidays are a painful reminder you aren’t here. 

All at once the memories come flooding back.

Your infectious laugh and the way your smile lit up any room you entered.

How you could never seem to run out of hugs or candy.

The way you would cock your head to the side and ask with a smile, “What’s happening in your little world?”

Memories weave a bittersweet path down memory lane. It feels like yesterday and so long ago at the same time. Although we miss you every day, your loss is amplified each time our family gets together. My eyes keep searching for you. I keep expecting you to walk through the door any moment.

My heart aches to hug you once more.

I wish I could go back to the days when you were still here, and we were all together.

I wish I could still hold you and tell you how much I love you. 

I wish you could watch my children grow up.

I wish I could ask you for advice.

I wish I could hear your voice.

There are so many things I want to ask you: How are the holidays in heaven? What was your first Christmas there like?

We do our best to honor you by doing the things you loved in life. It’s in those times your presence is felt the most.

I feel you by my side as my hands carefully decorate the tree with the ornaments you made and looking over my shoulder as we make your favorite recipes. I see you in the eyes of my children when I tell them stories about you and share memories of Christmas growing up.

RELATED: Even Though You’re In Heaven, Your Grandchildren Will Know You

Missing you never gets easier. Sometimes the grief is slow-burning; other times it’s an all-consuming fire. The pain of your loss is always there. But in those times, I try to remember how you would say, “Life is full of peaks and valleys,” and, “We only part to meet again.”

Grief is a delicate dance of learning to let go of the pain of losing you while holding onto the joy you brought into our lives.

The holidays aren’t the same without you. But nothing ever stays the same. We must carry on in faith and know the overwhelming grief we carry is a sign of the unspeakable love in our hearts. While memories may fade over time, my love for you never will.

Until the day when I can wrap my arms around you once more, part of me will be missing. No matter how long you have been gone, you are forever a part of me, and those treasured times we shared will always be the best part of coming home for the holidays.

Grief is messy and can feel so lonely. It’s OK That You’re Not OK is a great read for anyone who is grieving or supporting a loved one through grief. Don’t have time to read? You can listen here, on Audible.

Recommendations in this post contain affiliate links. Her View From Home may receive a small commission if you choose to purchase.

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Melanie Mogensen

Melanie Mogensen is a writer, wife, and mother of three who knows all too well how life can change in an instant. From becoming a young mom in her early 20s to managing twins and battling cancer, she is no stranger to adversity and God’s grace. Two years ago, in the middle of her own struggle with Stage 3 Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, she began sharing her story to help cope and let others know that even the most difficult times there is always hope and something to be grateful for. Check out more on her blog hopefulwarrior.com or follow her on Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest.

She Was the Glue That Held Our Family Together

In: Grief
Woman holding fish

They say you don’t know what you have until it’s gone. I found that to be most true when my grandma passed. Like many grandmas, she was the best. She was kind and tender, but firm when she needed to be. She gave her time freely and used her baking talent to bless others. She had little and needed little, yet she had a way of drawing people together. There wasn’t a day I can remember when someone didn’t call her or stop by. She seemed to have all the answers and somehow knew how to fix almost any problem....

Keep Reading

My Parents Will Never See This Face

In: Grief
Woman with sunglasses shown in rear view mirror

You’ve had that moment, right? That moment when you don’t recognize the woman standing in front of you. Her hair is grayer. The skin around her eyes is a bit darker. Even without noticing the small details, that face is different. It’s aged. And as I stared at her yesterday afternoon, all dolled up and nowhere to go, it dawned on me: My parents will never see this version of me. My mom will never get to see hands that look like hers. She’ll never recognize the wrinkles or the sun spots. My father-in-law joked about gray hair with my...

Keep Reading

The Due Date that Never Comes

In: Grief, Loss, Miscarriage
Woman walking down path

It is not often talked about. I completely understand why, but when going through something so heartbreaking and devastating, women shouldn’t have to suffer alone or in silence. If you’ve gone through it, you probably already know what I’m referring to – miscarriage. It is the reason many couples don’t tell people they are expecting until after the first trimester. It is so unfortunately common that one in four women will experience a miscarriage in their lifetime. According to the National Institutes of Health, 15-20 percent of pregnancies will end in miscarriage, and it is the most common pregnancy complication...

Keep Reading

Repotting Myself: What My One‑Armed Grandpa Taught Me About Growing Anyway

In: Grief, Living
Black and white photo of older man in garden

I was never meant to be a plant person. I’m the woman who can kill a succulent on the way home from the store. Once, a fern sighed in my direction and gave up. That is my spiritual gift. My grandpa Dominic would have laughed—hard. He loved to laugh. And sing hymns passionately in Italian. He was an Italian immigrant who lost his arm working in a mill, and still, he woke up every morning and dressed like dignity itself. He shopped for my grandma. He fixed what was broken. And he tended the biggest, happiest garden you’ve ever seen....

Keep Reading

When I Look In the Mirror, I See My Mother

In: Grief
Woman with mother smiling in older photo

Recently, whenever I look in the mirror, I see a strong resemblance to my mother.  People always said I looked like her, but I never really saw it until now. I think it may be because you always think of your parents as being older than you are. At the age of 61, I am now only two years away from the age my mother was when she died. The only good thing about dying young is that everyone will remember you that way.  I have only known my mom as the vibrant, personable, and active woman she was. Well,...

Keep Reading

I Lost My Daughter on Mother’s Day: 3 Truths I’m Believing Today

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Woman and young daughter smiling

Editor’s note: This post discusses child loss Child loss changes Mother’s Day. My 19-month-old, Julia, died suddenly on Mother’s Day in 2024. Three months later, her autopsy revealed she had B-cell Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia (B-ALL, also known as SUDNIC). Julia died a week after we did an embryo transfer at an IVF clinic in an attempt to have a second child. We found out three days after Julia’s death that the embryo did not make it either. Six months later, we did another embryo transfer that succeeded, and I now have an 8-month-old daughter, Lucy Mei (“Mei Mei” means “little...

Keep Reading

I Miss Having Parents

In: Grief
Grown daughter posing between smiling parents

I have been living with the ache of loss for so long that I truly don’t remember what it feels like not to carry it. Sometimes it rests quietly beneath my ribs, dormant and almost polite. Other times it rises without warning—on an ordinary Tuesday afternoon, in the middle of a coffee line—and cuts straight through me. Today, it was a song. I was waiting for my coffee when “Pictures of You” by The Cure drifted through the café speakers. I hadn’t heard it in 20 years. In my twenties, it meant heartbreak—young love unraveling, relationships ending before they were...

Keep Reading

What No One Tells You about Losing a Sibling

In: Grief

Nobody tells you that when you lose a sibling, your entire childhood flashes before your eyes. There’s no better witness to what you experienced growing up than that one person who was standing nearby for all of it. And when they’re gone, a part of that childhood and a part of that story goes with them, because it was only ever known between the two of you. There’s no last chance to say, “Remember when?” or to laugh about the things that made you laugh to tears together, a million times at the kitchen table. There’s no last conversation about...

Keep Reading

Grief Didn’t Break Me, It Rearranged Me

In: Grief
Sad woman looking off to the side

I survived losing my father after his long, grueling battle with cancer. It was one of the most difficult seasons of my life. I had a front row seat to watch cancer pick him apart piece by piece. When you lose a parent, you lose a part of yourself. They say time heals all wounds, but you never stop missing the good ones, and there are days when it feels like it just happened. By the grace of God, I survived, but I will always miss my father. Then, almost a decade later, I lost the career that helped me...

Keep Reading

I’m Learning To Be Soft and Strong

In: Grief
Woman sitting and crying on floor

During the weeks we cared for my grandmother in hospice, survival mode felt necessary. There were medications to track. Visitors to update. Logistics to manage. I remember sitting on the couch that served as my makeshift bed and listening to the rhythmic hissing and puffing of the oxygen machine one night. While my mom showered off the day, I texted my sister updates and sent my husband a quick message of love. I could still smell the lavender candle we had lit earlier in the day to mask medical scents. The house was quiet, but my mind wasn’t. I was...

Keep Reading