The cookouts are over.
The fireworks have faded.
The laughter, the noise, the busyness… all of it has quieted.
And now, here we are… sitting with the stillness.
I don’t know about you, but holiday weekends have this way of sweeping us up in the chaos — the plans, the people, the distractions. And in a way, it feels good. It feels normal. It feels like for a moment, maybe… just maybe… we get to exhale and enjoy the sweetness that life still holds.
But then the quiet settles in.
And if you’re anything like me, that’s when the ache comes rushing back in, too.
Because the truth is… someone was missing from those moments.
From the family photo.
From the backyard games.
From the seat at the table.
From your arms.
And maybe, in all the noise and planning and trying to keep it all together, you didn’t fully let yourself feel it. Maybe you didn’t even notice how much you were holding your breath… trying to balance being present for the moments in front of you, while carrying the ache that never truly leaves.
But now?
Now the house is quiet.
The celebrations are over.
And the heaviness starts to settle on your chest again.
I’ve been there, friend.
And maybe today you’re also wrestling with that quiet, with that ache… and even with the guilt that sneaks in.
Guilt for laughing.
For smiling.
For making new memories when one of your greatest loves wasn’t there to make them with you.
But I want to remind you of something…
Your joy doesn’t cancel out your grief.
Your laughter doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten.
Your ability to be present doesn’t erase your pain.
It simply means you’re human.
A mama whose love is so big, it holds both.
A heart that knows joy and sorrow can sit side by side.
And I know… it’s messy.
It’s confusing.
It’s not the life you imagined when you pictured these holidays, these moments.
But somehow, in the hard and the holy… you’re doing it.
You’re living.
You’re loving.
You’re carrying your missing piece with you, even when it aches.
If today feels heavy after the weekend… I just want you to know you’re not alone.
I see you.
I’m sitting with you in it.
And I’m speaking their name with you today.
You are not forgotten.
Your grief is not invisible.
And your love — it never, ever ends.
If you want to share their name below… I’d love to say it with you today. 🤍
If you’re walking through life after loss and today feels extra heavy, you don’t have to carry it alone. Our community is here for you — raw, real, and rooted in hope. Reach out anytime.
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