You Are Stronger Than Your Grief

A Gift for Mom! 🤍

It’s been a long 11 months. One mountain climbed and when you get to a peak there is another one right behind it. It’s overwhelming at first. You take a deep breath and head to the depths and get lost in the despair. Some mountains are smaller and steady, and some take your breath away with their intimidating heights and narrow switchbacks.

When you fall back down and look up again you are so exhausted but pick yourself up, pack up all the tools you used from the previous mountain, and start moving. One step at a time.

That is grief.

On your journey, you ask yourself why her. Again and again. Guess what? Somewhere on that journey, you will understand that even if you had that answer it would never be good enough. You still won’t like it.

Ever.

Keep moving. You’ve got this. Get to a rest stop.

Give yourself the love she did. Feel it. Breathe in the best moments and exhale the worst. Prepare yourself for the long hike. Pack the best parts for the rest of your journey. Each step you get closer to your final destination.

Heaven.

With her.

Try to get to know God. With Him, you are never, ever alone. He has her and to know Him is to be closer to her. Talk to Him. He knows. Stay on the path He selected for you. There will be joy around another bend, but you have to keep going to find it.

RELATED: If I Could Talk to the Girl Who Just Lost Her Mom

Remember to find beauty on the way. Look around. Smile at the wonders this world still has to offer.

You are her legacy by the way. Take her with you. Talk to her.

Unpack the heavy things from your pack. They make your hike harder and more strenuous. Leave guilt at the bottom of that mountain. You can’t go up with something so heavy pulling you back and making your footing unsteady. Unpack the word “should” from your vocabulary. It’s too heavy, and you don’t need that now to get where you need to be.

There are days when it will be hard to get up. Give yourself grace. You have been through a lot. Go to a rest stop and just be.

Feel that sunshine on your face. That is her cheering you on one step at a time. She knows you are getting closer to her each day and is smiling because you are. Keep going. Keep a picture of her looking happy and healthy with you. Look at it often. She is there with you. Remember her at her best.

Keep going. There will be dark valleys and storms to go through. One foot at a time. Don’t look back. You aren’t going that way. See the sunrise off into the distance? A new day. Even if you don’t see the progress it doesn’t mean you aren’t improving. See, each day you are learning how to cope, which helps you to get the next high part of the summit.

Keep going!

When you get lost, don’t forget to ask for directions. There are people who walked this path before you.

Talk to them. They spent time in those dark, cold parts of the trail, and they will act as your compass to help you find a way out for now.

RELATED: To the Friend Who Just Lost a Parent: You’ll Never Get Over This, But You Will Get Through It

You will need flashlights. These are the people who are with you in the dark and offer light when you need it the most. When the thunder rumbles in the distance and you see the dark clouds roll in, reach for a flashlight. Keep them close. You will need them at nightfall when things seem the most uncertain.

Live in the present. Drink it in. Here and now is the only thing that exists. Get yourself to a scenic lookout. It’s simply amazing how far you have come. You are doing it. Give yourself some love for that. Every day you are getting stronger and the storms are getting chased away by the sunshine a little faster.

Or maybe you don’t notice how uncomfortable the rain is anymore because it happens, but it doesn’t mean you can’t splash in those puddles. Imagine your mom laughing just like she did when you were little. Splashing in the puddles in your rain boots. She is holding your hand. Pulling you forward but allowing you to learn things for yourself like she always did.

Sometimes you have to fall down and dust yourself off. She taught you this. Apply it.

Keep going through the uneven trails, getting stuck in the mud and painful thorny patches. It happens. Keep moving. Climb and see. Climb and reflect. Climb and cry. It’s OK. You’ve got this. You have done it before. Slow and steady. Even when it’s uncomfortable and the sadness seeps in, get to a rest stop and sit with it. Your mom is sitting there with you. She is closer than you ever thought possible and she won’t leave your side. Her hand on yours.

RELATED: A Love Letter From Mamas in Heaven to Their Beautiful Daughters on Earth

Breathe in and get up. Dust yourself off as you did before, pack up those coping essentials, and keep moving. When you get yourself to that glorious top, look around. See those valleys? You were there. See those dark shadows? You were there. See yourself now? You are here because of there.

You are stronger than you think darling. Yep, there is another mountain in the distance, but it is beautiful because of the valleys, twists, turns, shadows, and sunlight. You have come this far. You will do it again until you meet her again. You can do it.

Embrace the climb.

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!

Kristie Reitz

I am a mom of 3 kids and a teacher of the visually impaired in Cranberry Twp, PA.

She Was the Glue That Held Our Family Together

In: Grief

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

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

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

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

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

The Life I'm Living Now Was Once the Someday I Desperately Hoped For

Motherhood

The Life I'm Living Now Was Once the Someday I Desperately Hoped For

Thank You For Not Forgetting My Child Who Died

Grief

You Are Stronger Than Your Grief

Keep moving. You’ve got this. Get to a rest stop.

RELATED: If I Could Talk to the Girl Who Just Lost Her Mom

You are her legacy by the way. Take her with you. Talk to her.

When you get lost, don’t forget to ask for directions. There are people who walked this path before you.

RELATED: To the Friend Who Just Lost a Parent: You’ll Never Get Over This, But You Will Get Through It

Sometimes you have to fall down and dust yourself off. She taught you this. Apply it.

RELATED: A Love Letter From Mamas in Heaven to Their Beautiful Daughters on Earth

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

Kristie Reitz

She Was the Glue That Held Our Family Together

My Parents Will Never See This Face

The Due Date that Never Comes

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

When I Look In the Mirror, I See My Mother

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

I Miss Having Parents

What No One Tells You about Losing a Sibling

Grief Didn’t Break Me, It Rearranged Me

I’m Learning To Be Soft and Strong

Get It Now

So God Made a Mother

You Are Stronger Than Your Grief

Keep moving. You’ve got this. Get to a rest stop.

You are her legacy by the way. Take her with you. Talk to her.

When you get lost, don’t forget to ask for directions. There are people who walked this path before you.

Sometimes you have to fall down and dust yourself off. She taught you this. Apply it.

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

She Was the Glue That Held Our Family Together

My Parents Will Never See This Face

The Due Date that Never Comes

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

When I Look In the Mirror, I See My Mother

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

I Miss Having Parents

What No One Tells You about Losing a Sibling

Grief Didn’t Break Me, It Rearranged Me

I’m Learning To Be Soft and Strong

Previous Post

Next Post

You May Also Like