To the friend who just lost a parent:

I see you there, sunglasses pulled down over your eyes covering the emotion that leaks from behind them.

I ask you how you are, and you say you’re doing OK.

I know that’s probably the answer you give everyone. The easy answer. The acceptable answer. It’s the same answer that rolled off my tongue six years ago because it was so much simpler than the truth.

The truth is, you’re trying to wrap your head around what this life is going to look like without him in it.

Who will you turn to when you need reassurance or someone to talk some sense into you? How can you accept that you’ll never hear his laugh again or see his number on your caller ID?

The finality of losing a parent is impossible to comprehend.

I get it.

I know how hard it is to escape your grief when everything you see reminds you of him.

I know you feel pressure to be strong for those around you, to hold them up even though you can barely keep yourself upright.

I know it hurts the most when you lie in bed at night, or when you’re in the car alone . . . whenever it is that the quiet gives your thoughts a chance to sneak in and consume you.

You wonder if you should have done things differently. You did your best. 

You wonder if you were enough. You were.

You wonder if you made him proud. You did.

You think of all the things you’d say to him if you could just have one more conversation . . . What you would have said if you had known it would be your last.

I know the weight sitting on your chest right now.

I asked how you were, and you told me you were doing okay. I hugged you and said I was thinking of you, but what I really should have said was this:

It gets easier.

I know that seems impossible right now, but it’s true.

The pain won’t go away, but it will somehow scab over and become less raw.

There will never come a day when he doesn’t cross your mind, but there will come a time when the hurt is no longer unbearable.

You’ll get past the point where it takes extra effort just to breathe. Past the point where your heart physically aches from the heaviness within.

One day, you’ll laugh again—and mean it.

You’ll feel joy again—and exude it.

You’ll think of him and smile—really, truly smile—because your heart will somehow find the balance between missing him and being grateful for the years you shared.

When a parent leaves this world, they take a piece of you with them. It’s a truth I’ve discovered firsthand, and one that I’m so, so very sorry you’re now learning for yourself.

I want you to know I’m here for you, day or night. To cry to, vent to, or sit in silence with. If you let me, I’ll be by your side every step of this journey.

You’ll never get over this, dear friend . . . but you will get through it.

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A MOTHER available now!

Order Now

Check out our new Keepsake Companion Journal that pairs with our So God Made a Mother book!

Order Now
So God Made a Mother's Story Keepsake Journal

Casey Huff

Casey is Creative Director for Her View From Home. She's mom to three amazing kiddos and wife to a great guy. It's her mission as a writer to shed light on the beauty and chaos of life through the lenses of motherhood, marriage, and mental health. To read more, go hang out with Casey at: Facebook: Casey Huff Instagram: @casey.e.huff

I Didn’t Know Anxiety until I Knew Grief

In: Grief, Living, Loss, Motherhood
Woman crouched on ground by waterfront

If you had known me for the first 45 years of my life, you would say I was an extrovert. I loved going places, meeting new people, and striking up conversations with all ages. I talk a lot, often sharing too much in the way of being transparent. It’s been said that I have never met a stranger. Yes, I will admit, I am that woman you see in the grocery store line starting up conversations with the people around me. A few years ago, my life started changing, and I struggled with becoming introverted. Though I had once loved...

Keep Reading

Mom Showed Me What It Means to Be a Caregiver

In: Grief, Grown Children, Loss
Grown woman with her mother smiling, color photo

My mother is an extraordinary woman. She inspires me to be a better person. She has spent seven years selflessly caring for my father after a horrific battle with Stage IV tongue cancer. During this time she would laugh with me, cry with me, and express her fears and frustrations with me. My mother is the definition of strength and courage while surrounded by heartbreak and human suffering. During the time my mother was taking care of my father she had her own health issues. Her colon perforated in 2012 making her critically ill. It’s nothing short of a miracle...

Keep Reading

Mom May Never See Our Home, but Her Love Lives Here

In: Grief, Loss
Cute and quaint house, color photo

To the average person, it was a typical Wisconsin Friday in October—wet, dreary, and a bit nippy. To my wife and me, it was a day of both elation and sadness. We put in an offer on a house we both loved. My wife spotted it a few days beforehand; we toured it alongside a couple of other options, and just knew it was the one. And we did it without our mothers. Her mother died seven and a half years before. At the end of October was the three-year anniversary of my mother’s death. There’s something to be said...

Keep Reading

This is How to Support Miscarriage Moms

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Woman with arm around another woman sitting in field

When you hear the term miscarriage, what do you think? My initial thought was the loss of an unborn child, but have you ever really wondered what truly happens when you are having a miscarriage? Our first miscarriage occurred immediately after our wedding in 2019, we had a chemical pregnancy after conceiving while on our honeymoon. This means we had a positive pregnancy test, but by the time we got to our OB/GYN, I had the heaviest period of my life, resulting in a negative serum pregnancy test. That was hard enough to go through but was nothing compared to...

Keep Reading

To the Family with a Loved One in Jail

In: Grief, Living
Woman with head in hands

At first, I wanted to hide. I didn’t want to face people anywhere, not at the grocery store, not at work, not even at church. I was ashamed, hurt, and humiliated. It was after that day not so long ago when one of my sisters called me, sobbing so hard I could barely understand the awful message she was telling me. He’s been arrested, she was saying. We need to go tell Mom. Oh, God, no. Please, please, no. How can this even be real? But it was real. RELATED: Tragedy Changes You, But it Doesn’t Have To Ruin You...

Keep Reading

My Daddy Is In the Arms of Jesus

In: Grief, Loss
Grown daughter walking with older father

My daddy went home to the arms of Jesus just a few short days before Christmas. My family was given the greatest gift of time with him individually to speak the words they needed him to hear and to listen to the words he wanted to say. It was a gift we are beyond grateful for because we know not everyone has that time with their loved ones before they go, especially now. So, yes, I am grateful, but I miss him. I awoke this morning with a dance happening in my heart. The dance of grief and joy. I...

Keep Reading

Even Though You Left Too Soon, You Gave Me Hope

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Early sonogram image

This was the fifth time I’d seen those two pink lines letting me know that a baby was on the way, but I only had one child to show for it, so I’d learned to damper my happiness and excitement. Each miscarriage brought its own unique flavor—one was marked by anxiety, another anger, deep sadness, and then apathy. I’d learned not to get too close to a pregnancy, but this time I leaned into it in a way I hadn’t before. There was a tender and growing elation, and I felt immediate love and gratitude. Sure, there was no telling...

Keep Reading

We Picked up Our Daughter’s Ashes Yesterday

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Mother holding decorative urn in baby's room, color photo

We picked up her ashes yesterday . . . our daughter’s ashes. Though the funeral home was only about an hour away, the trip felt like an eternity. I stared blankly out the window for most of the drive, somewhat calmed by the cocktail of medications I had been placed on and was brought back to reality only by the occasional pain searing through my abdomen. When we arrived, the parking lot was completely empty. Snow lined the edges of the lot, and the sun shone all too brightly. We had assumed the funeral director would be there to greet...

Keep Reading

The Hardest Prayer I Ever Prayed

In: Cancer, Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Bald-headed little girl in hospital bed with her mama, color photo

Trigger warning: Child loss I had a plan for summertime fun with my children. We had just returned from a week-long road trip to the Grand Canyon. I intentionally planned to fill the rest of the summer with activities that would chase away boredom. Craft supplies had been purchased, day trips had been planned, and we were just beginning a week of Vacation Bible School. Excitement was in the air! Yet a tiny nagging fear kept resurfacing: Was there something wrong with my 2-year-old? Ever since she turned two back in the fall, she had become fussy. Our healthy, happy...

Keep Reading

My Mom Passed away and I Don’t Know Who I Am Anymore

In: Grief, Loss
Mother and daughter on a carousel ride, older color photo

For the last sixteen months of her life, I was one of my mother’s primary caregivers, and now that she’s gone, I feel lost. My beautiful, strong, hilarious, and fun-loving mom not only survived but thrived after a heart attack and open-heart surgery at age 67. So 10 years later, we were all surprised to learn that the aortic aneurysm with which she had lived for over a decade had expanded to dangerous territory. We were told she would soon die without another risky open-heart surgery. The one thing my mother feared more than going into surgery was death. Her...

Keep Reading