"the importance of grief communities"

Image Source: Tima Miroshnichenko from Pexels.

As the second anniversary of my mom’s passing came and went, I ended the day feeling deeply grateful—not just for those in my life who reached out, but also for the support of the grief community. While a few core individuals let me down, I’ve come to accept that I won’t always receive the same care and consideration that I offer to others. I'm also sure many people don’t see much significance in these anniversaries. Ultimately, I know that when it comes down to it, at least my mom knew I was thinking of and honoring her that day.

But even when I clearly express the simple ways I’d like to be supported in my grief, I’ve learned that not everyone will show up as I hope. Is it okay? No, of course not. But I can't carry anger or disappointment with me. Rather than dwelling on resentment, I choose to focus on those who showed up—the ones I expected and even the ones I didn’t, including those behind usernames.

Sometimes, the deepest and most genuine support comes from people who truly understand—those who have walked the same path of grief and know what it means to face these hard anniversaries. You may not know them in person, but their kindness and generosity transcend that distance.

Find a community that will show up for you in ways others won’t or can’t. Among the bereaved, there is an abundance of love and selflessness. Despite their own pain, they continue to support, encourage, and embrace those who need it most.

To those who supported me on such a meaningful day—thank you. I am deeply grateful for your kindness.

-j

"a reflection of the first anniversary"

Image Source: Arbaz Khan from Pixabay

Having missed the opportunity to share my thoughts on the first anniversary of my Mom's passing, I decided not to publish anything at all. It felt as though the raw, real-time emotions of that day had already mostly slipped away, leaving my words less authentic than I wanted them to be.

As the second anniversary of my Mom's passing quickly approaches, I find myself reflecting on a particular feeling that still fascinates me. On the first anniversary of her passing, much like during holidays, special occasions, or monthly milestones, I permitted myself to feel whatever emotions surfaced—and I did. Leading up to the day, I felt a wave of anxiety that intensified my grief, and on the day itself, I experienced expected deep sadness several times. I also took a quiet moment to pause and reflect at the exact time she had taken her last breath.

What still intrigues me today is how it didn’t fully hit me until the evening of last year’s anniversary: making it through the entire year wouldn’t bring her back in her physical form. As strange as it sounds—and I’m not sure why I thought this—I had this unexpressed hope that enduring the year would somehow lead to her walking through the front door, wrapping me in the biggest hug, and telling me that she was back and how proud she was that I made it. Instead, I was met with a bittersweet mix of accomplishment for getting through the year and deep disappointment. A heavy knot formed in my stomach as the realization set in: this was only the first of many anniversaries. None of them would ever bring her back.

With the upcoming anniversary rapidly approaching, I can’t help but feel a familiar sadness knowing it will be just another of many where she won’t return. Another year gone by. But on a more hopeful note, it also marks another year closer to being reunited—whether in a warm afterlife or in the quiet embrace of nothingness. In the meantime, I’ll continue to try to live in a way that ensures I’ll have countless stories to share when that day finally arrives.

-j🌻

"the second birthday"

2025

Over the past two years, I've experienced a range of emotions surrounding these big milestones, allowing myself the freedom to feel whatever comes up—whether it's joy, sadness, or something in between. This year, my Mom's second birthday after her passing was no different.

That morning, I woke up with deep sadness. I read her the birthday card I had chosen, allowing myself to truly miss her privately. I wished that she could be here with us to enjoy her favorite cake and share in the celebration.

But then, something unexpected (but welcomed) happened—about an hour later, a wave of positive emotions washed over me. It felt like the excitement I get after months of keeping a gift a secret, and then eagerly watching someone special unwrap something I’ve carefully chosen or made just for them. I realized that, despite the sadness, I was excited to honor her, to celebrate her in a way that felt right for both of us.

The rest of the day unfolded with that same positive energy. There was also a sense of peace that carried me through. I truly believe she was and is happy that the day was full of positivity and love, though I know she would understand sadness.

That being said, no matter the milestone, I hope you permit yourself to feel whatever comes up. Whether you experience those emotions in the moment or choose to set them aside for later, I wholeheartedly encourage you to honor your feelings and let yourself truly feel.

Happy Birthday, Mom 💙

-j🌻