"Happy Birthday, Mom"

2024

Of all the "firsts" this year, my mom's first heavenly birthday was the hardest for me. I think it hit me so hard because, unlike other milestones like Christmas or birthdays without her, this one was entirely focused on my mom.

While I found some comfort in knowing she was celebrating the day with her twin sister, a deep sorrow weighed heavily on me. I had already cried several times before even getting out of bed. Still, I knew I wanted to celebrate her, and thankfully, my dad felt the same way.

Although the day was mostly quiet, my dad and I found small ways to celebrate her. We got a small ice cream cake for the evening, picked up her favorite birthday cake (which we had planned to use the following weekend for a bigger celebration with her son and granddaughter, though the weather had other plans), and grabbed her favorite mixed berry smoothie. Later that day, her granddaughter and I also celebrated her birthday digitally. It was bittersweet, but I’m so grateful we had that moment. Despite everything, I’m thankful we were able to celebrate her openly. To me, even though she’s passed, her birthday deserves to be celebrated, and I intend to continue doing so, regardless of what others have suggested.

That being said, if you choose not to celebrate your loved one’s birthday, that’s perfectly okay too. Some people prefer to mark the occasion quietly or alone, while others may choose not to celebrate at all because it brings too much sadness. I believe it's important to do what feels right for you, while also being considerate of those around you. For example, while I knew I wanted to celebrate my mom’s birthday, I made sure to check with my dad to see how he felt about it. If he had wanted to keep it low-key or skip it entirely, I would have respected his wishes and celebrated quietly on my own. Thankfully, he was on board, and I’m so grateful that we could share that time together.

Similar to Christmas Day, I found myself wishing for the day to end—not because I didn’t want to honor my mom’s birthday, but because I longed for things to "return to normal." I wanted to feel the comfort of my reshaped relationship with her, where her physical absence doesn’t hurt as deeply. That night, I spoke to her, as I always do, and read her birthday card out loud. I wished her and her sister a happy birthday and eventually drifted off to sleep.

Overall, I believe birthdays can be incredibly challenging without our loved ones. They often leave us uncertain about what society deems "appropriate" when it comes to celebrating or not. However, I think if you feel the need to celebrate, you should do so in a way that feels right for you, while also respecting others' boundaries and limitations. I'm sure your loved one would appreciate and understand whatever you choose to do.

-j🌻

"grief and the holidays"

2024

I decided to wait until after the holidays to share my experience and feelings about my first Christmas without my mom. I also held off because I was dealing with a respiratory issue (which I’m still struggling with), and it served as a distraction from the heavy emotions surrounding the holiday. As a result, I didn’t think much about how I was feeling leading up to Christmas. But before I knew it, Christmas had come and gone, and it still feels as though it never really happened.

general opinion

During the holidays, I believe it’s important to do whatever makes you feel most comfortable, if possible. If staying home alone, reading, and lighting a fireplace while you mourn feels right, that’s completely okay. If you prefer to go to a family member’s house and celebrate as usual, that’s just as okay. If you want to ignore the holiday and treat it like any other day, that’s perfectly fine too! If you feel pressured to celebrate but don’t want to, try to carve out some time to honor your grief or share your feelings with loved ones. I hope they’ll be understanding and supportive of whatever you choose to do. Your grief is valid and personal, so try not to let anyone make you feel bad for being sad, even on a holiday. And if you're open to it, sharing your grief can help challenge the stigma surrounding it.

my experience

For me, the focus was on making sure that my mom's granddaughter—my niece—had a Christmas that felt as close as possible to the ones we had celebrated together in the past (even though my wrapping skills were nowhere near as impressive as my mom's!). While I could have managed without celebrating the holiday, deep down, I knew that wasn’t what my mom would have wanted for her granddaughter. A big part of me also didn’t want that for her either. So, I shifted my grief from something that made me want to avoid the holiday, to something that fueled my desire to make the day special, "normal," and full of love—for my niece, my brother, and my dad. I also found ways to honor my mom and incorporate her interests into the holiday. Even though she wasn’t physically with us, she remained a significant part of our Christmas celebration, especially on Christmas Eve.

Christmas Day, however, was much quieter and more solemn. I found myself feeling deeply saddened at several points throughout the day. I continued my mom's tradition of making cinnamon rolls for breakfast and allowed myself to experience whatever emotions came my way. As the hours passed, I distracted myself with a few creative activities. I was genuinely grateful when evening arrived and I could finally go to bed—not just to end the day, but to look forward to returning to my new "normal" the next day, where my mom's physical absence wouldn’t weigh so heavily on my heart (thanks to the reshaped relationship I continue to have with her). There was also a sense of peace in knowing that I had done everything I could to fill her shoes, and I felt grateful for how happy her granddaughter was with everything. I also found myself with even more appreciation for everything she had done during past Christmases for me, her grandchildren, nieces, and nephews. I still don’t know how she managed to do it all!

closing

Overall, there’s no right or wrong way to spend the holidays—or the time leading up to them—when you’re grieving a loss. Whether you choose to spend the holidays alone, with friends or family, or even ignore them entirely, that’s perfectly okay. Whatever you decide, I’m sure your loved one will support your choice.

And don’t forget to take care of yourself during these special days.

-j🌻

"signs"

2023

I never really believed in signs or an afterlife before. I saw them as comforting ideas, meant to ease the pain of mourning and offer hope that we’ll be reunited with loved ones after death. While I’m still uncertain about the reality of both, there have been far too many coincidences and synchronicities since my mom’s passing for me to dismiss them or belittle their potential meaning. Even on my toughest days, when sadness, anxiety, or flashbacks take hold, I’ll experience something that feels like a message from my mom, helping to ease the weight of it all. And on the good days, hours, or moments, I’ll still encounter something that feels like it came from her, making me smile or laugh when I least expect it.

Lowey; March 2023

One of the first signs I noticed in a repeated pattern was the presence of a beautiful red cardinal. While cardinals are a common symbol for signs, we had never seen them around our house before my mom passed away. This cardinal would appear whenever I sat outside to read and feel closer to my mom. It would stay at a safe distance, watching me for a while. Early in my grief journey, I began to see this cardinal, whom I named "Lowey," whenever I was feeling deeply depressed. Eventually, I started buying cardinal bird food to encourage his visits, and he stuck around, for which I’m truly grateful. Over time, he brought a few friends with him, and now all the male cardinals are named "Lowey," while the female cardinals are affectionately called "Llama Butt" or "LB" for short. This name was lovingly given by my wonderful niece, who drew from the nickname I used for my mom—Mama Llama.

Between the visits from the cardinals, the sightings of gnomes and sunflowers (which I chose to represent happiness, sunshine, my adoption from Ukraine, and the special bond between my mom and me), and a few other "smaller" things, I began to wonder if I could ask my mom for a sign. So, I did. I told her that it could be anything, but I hoped the sign would let me know that she’s doing okay, that she’s happy, and that she’s always with me. That day, nothing happened, and that was completely fine. I had noticed that signs tended to appear when I least expected them, so I knew it was just a matter of time before I would receive something from my mom.

The next day, I had to return an item I’d purchased on Amazon at a local retail store. After the return, I figured it would be fun to check out the fall candles if any had arrived yet. Conveniently, the candle display was near the Amazon return area, which felt like a little treat. As I browsed, I was excited to see that the fall scents were starting to come in (fall is my favorite season). At my exact eye level, I spotted a candle that read "Hello Sunshine," which immediately caught my attention. It was blue (my mom’s favorite color) and had sunflowers all over the outside. I felt drawn to it and thought, “This could be my sign.” I was curious about what it would smell like, expecting something fall-inspired or floral. But when I quickly lowered my mask to sniff the candle, I was stunned—it smelled exactly like a winter candle I had loved the year before, one my mom knew I adored. I thought, “There’s no way,” and flipped the candle over to check the name of the scent. It read, "Let's Get Cozy." That was it! The exact scent I had loved. I couldn’t believe it, especially since the scent didn’t seem to match the design at all. What were the chances that the day after I asked my mom for a sign to let me know she was okay, happy, and always with me, I would receive such a clear and wonderful sign? Naturally, I purchased the candle, and later bought a second one because I didn’t want to burn the original one.

At a later point in my grief journey, I decided to ask my mom for a sign that would be just between the two of us. While I had shared the signs of sunflowers, cardinals, and gnomes with some family members, and I loved that we could bond over those and keep an eye out for them, I wanted something special—something only for me and my mom. So, I made a request, telling her that the sign could appear in any form, especially since it wasn’t something one would typically see in nature or in stores. It would be a symbol of our continued love and connection.

Later that evening, I sat with my dad to watch Family Feud, a show we used to watch together with my mom (and still sometimes do with him). As a question was asked to the family, one of the members gave an answer that was the exact sign I had requested. I was honestly taken aback—it didn’t really make sense as an answer to the question. What were the chances? Then, just a few days later, I saw the sign again, randomly. I haven’t seen it since, but that’s okay. I’ve continued to see some of the other signs, including a funny new one, which brings me comfort.

I’m writing this post because I believe it can offer comfort to others—whether you’re questioning your sanity for repeatedly seeing or hearing certain things, or if you’re uncertain about believing in anything beyond death. I highly recommend staying open to the possibility of receiving signs from passed loved ones. For me, these signs have been comforting, sometimes perfectly timed, and always lovely surprises. They’ve also helped me maintain a strong, vibrant connection with my mom, keeping our relationship alive in a meaningful way.

I also make it a point to thank my mom for the signs I receive. I feel that expressing my gratitude helps her know that she and her efforts are deeply appreciated and continue to be meaningful to me.

If you're interested in exploring more about signs and reading others' experiences, I highly recommend the following book:

"Signs: The Secret Language of the Universe" by Laura Lynne Jackson.

-j🌻