"little things"

Image Source: CandyMafia

One of the first public waves of grief I experienced came soon after my mom passed away in February 2023. I was in the middle of a grocery store when I was naturally drawn to a snack on the shelf: Brach's Mellowcreme Pumpkins—one of my mom’s favorites. I immediately thought, Oh, she’s going to love this. But then, it hit me like a ton of bricks: she was no longer here. I wouldn’t be able to surprise her with treats she loved but rarely bought for herself. Tears welled up in my eyes, and an overwhelming wave of grief washed over me. I tried my best to brush the tears away and continued shopping. It was a small thing—a product on a shelf—but in that moment, it completely shattered my world.

During a later grocery run, I noticed the seasonal shelves were still stocked with fall and Halloween candy. My heart ached again when I saw Brach's Mellowcreme Pumpkins, but I purchased two bags of them in my Mom's honor. Even though I am not particularly fond of them myself, my niece loves them— they were also once a special bonding treat between her and her grandmother.

I like to think that even though she’s not here to enjoy them, she knows I thought of her and would still be surprising her if I could. I’ll forever miss the sparkle in her eyes and her dazzling smile whenever I surprised her—whether it was with treats, llama or gnome-themed items, or fuzzy aloe socks to keep her feet warm. I’ll also always miss how she’d jokingly scold me for spending money on such things, but it was always worth it just to see her smile and make her happy.

I’m sure you’ve already encountered—or will soon—little things that remind you of your loved one and tug at your heartstrings. Please know that it’s completely normal to feel sad and express those emotions, even in public, when these reminders surface. And if you don’t feel comfortable showing your emotions out in the open, I hope you have a safe space where you can fully feel and process everything you need to.

If there are things you can buy that help you feel closer to your loved one, I say go for it. Cherish the memories attached to those items. As I mentioned, I’m not particularly fond of the pumpkin candies, but every now and then, I’ll reach into the bag, grab one, and think, "To you, Mom!"

-j🌻

"say everything"

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Regret is a common emotion after losing a loved one, especially if you didn’t get the chance to say what you truly wanted before they passed. I’ve read stories of people whose last words to their loved ones were spoken in anger during an argument or who realized too late that their final opportunity to connect was a missed phone call because life got in the way. When that person is gone, the weight of missed opportunities—or the absence of any opportunity at all—can leave you berating yourself, wishing for just one more chance to say what you feel.

I fall into this category of regretting unspoken words, particularly when it comes to my aunt—my mom’s twin sister—who passed away unexpectedly. I’ll share more about her in the "Unexpected Passings" section.

terminal illnesses:

One of the few "silver linings" of a terminal illness diagnosis is that it often gives you some sense of when a person might pass. While it doesn’t take away the pain, it provides the certainty that the end is coming—it’s just a matter of when.

With my mom, we were told that life expectancy can vary for everyone with her diagnosis. The oncologists didn’t provide an exact number, which I understood, but research indicated a general expectancy of 3-5 years with treatment. Even though I knew we were on borrowed time, it wasn’t until the final week of her life that I had the more serious, meaningful conversations with her. Some of those talks were incredibly difficult, but they were absolutely worth it, as I felt certain she knew how much I love her—and always will.

I was also honored to read her heartfelt messages from those who loved her. While it was emotional and challenging, it was rewarding to share that love with her in her final days. I fully recognize that not everyone has the chance to say what they need to, and I want to emphasize how deeply grateful and fortunate I am. This paragraph is not written with any malice or to appear smug—it’s simply my reflection on a rare and precious opportunity.

After my mom’s passing, I reflected on our conversations. While I felt at peace with most of what we discussed, a part of me couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling. I kept wondering if there was one topic I hadn’t addressed—something I knew she would have worried about after her passing (and I’ll leave it at that for now). My mind spiraled into the "what if" questions.

To pull myself out of that spiral, I decided to try a technique I’d read about in grief books, one I had also used with my aunt: speaking out loud to my mom, saying the things I wish I had said. Though my views on the afterlife are mixed, I do find comfort in imagining that my mom is still with me, listening to me. (I like to think she sometimes jokes, "Jess, I love you, but please—go to sleep already!")

It brings me peace to think that if she can see me, she knows I’m living in a way she’d be proud of, doing what I know she would want for me. Over time, I’ve let go of the "what ifs" about the things I didn’t say before she passed.

In my experience, it can be incredibly beneficial and freeing to express what you need to say, even after someone has passed. Whether it’s out loud, in a letter, or through an email, finding a way to communicate those words can bring a sense of relief.

unexpected passings:

I also used this "speaking out loud" technique with my aunt, who passed away unexpectedly in 2021.

In the waves of grief, while supporting my mom through the loss of her twin, I realized that I, too, had been robbed of the chance to say goodbye to my aunt—to let her know how much she was loved and to express my sympathy for the hardships she endured. Of course, I had told her I loved her before her passing and did my best to support her through the challenges she faced, but it still hit me hard when I realized I hadn’t been able to say goodbye or tell her one last time how much I loved her. I also regretted not reaching out when I had thought about it—just a few days before or the week leading up to her passing.

In the midst of that overwhelming regret, I began speaking out loud to my aunt. I told her everything I wished I could have said, and I’ve continued to communicate with her in various ways since then. As a result, I feel much less burdened by guilt, though a small part of me will always wish I could have done more to help her through certain hardships. Still, it brings me comfort to know that she and my mom are once again reunited.

don't wait, say everything now if you can:

I also write this entry to encourage you to say what you need to say to your loved ones now. Don’t wait, because life is unpredictable, and you never know what might come your way. We often believe we have more time than we actually do.

However, if you missed the opportunity, please don’t beat yourself up over it. I’m certain your loved one wouldn’t want you to carry that guilt. I believe they’d rather you still express what you wanted to say—whether out loud or in writing. The important thing is finding a way to get those words out, from you to them.

-j🌻

"afraid of forgetting"

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I don’t remember much from my childhood—or even from just five years ago. My memories tend to come in fragments: a few specific events or a vague, generalized feeling that sums up an entire period of my life, usually defined by schools or jobs. What makes my memory even more peculiar is how I often recall things in the third person, as though I’m watching someone else’s life unfold. It’s strange, almost as if those memories don’t truly belong to me.

One day, I mentioned to my mom how I don’t remember much from my childhood and how I often recall memories as if I’m watching them from the outside. She paused for a moment and then asked me, “Will you forget me after I’m gone?” Her question caught me off guard, and I quickly reassured her, “I could never forget you—how could I?”

After her passing, as I navigated the unpredictable waves of grief, a troubling thought began to take hold: what if I did forget her? What if she became just another vague, distant memory, one I could only recall in third person? The idea was deeply upsetting, and though I tried to reassure myself that it wouldn’t happen, the comfort I sought always seemed just out of reach.

During the years I had the honor of being one of her caregivers, I often found myself studying her face and every little detail about her. I wanted to commit it all to memory. I treated each day as though it could be our last together, making a conscious effort to truly see her every time I looked at her. Even at night, before heading upstairs, I’d pause to wish her goodnight, always glancing back to meet her eyes one more time. Deep down, I knew that someday, she wouldn’t be there.

Early in my grief therapy sessions, I shared with my wonderful therapist my deep fear of forgetting my mom and the way my memories seem fragmented—or sometimes absent altogether. I told her that, deep down, I knew I could never truly forget her, but the relentless "what ifs" kept gnawing at my mind. I also admitted that I didn’t want to lose the memories of the week leading up to her passing, even though some moments had initially triggered vivid and painful flashbacks. I understood that forgetting can be the brain’s way of shielding us from pain, but I was determined to hold onto everything—no matter how much it hurt.

During one of our sessions, my therapist suggested I start writing down my memories. She also recommended a few guided journals and books on grief to help me process everything. One journal I found particularly helpful was A Daughter's Grief Journal: Daily Prompts and Exercises for Navigating the Loss of Your Mother (Link).

Inspired by her advice, I also researched free, private online journaling apps that work seamlessly across both mobile and desktop. After exploring a few options, I started using Goodnight Journal (Link), which I highly recommend for anyone looking for a convenient and secure way to document their thoughts.

One of the first steps I took to preserve my memories was writing a letter to myself in the journaling app. I also emailed a copy of it to ensure it was saved. In that letter, I detailed everything I could remember about the entire week leading up to her passing. It took time to complete, as I was still grappling with vivid flashbacks, but I’m so grateful I wrote it all down.

I also started a private "book" within Goodnight Journal—a collection of entries organized under one category—where I documented other memories and my emotions as they came. Interestingly, after my mom’s passing, I noticed memories from my childhood starting to resurface, as though they had been waiting to be uncovered.

If you’re someone who fears forgetting a loved one or the moments surrounding their passing, I highly recommend writing down everything you remember. You don’t have to revisit what you’ve written right away—or even ever—but knowing those memories are preserved in written form can bring a sense of comfort and security.

For me, documenting my memories has given me peace of mind. I no longer feel like they’re slipping away. If you have photos or videos, those can also be incredibly helpful in keeping memories alive. They’ve been a valuable part of my journey, too.

-j🌻