Good Mourning Grief

A blog about my adventures as a grief warrior

Month: August 2026

The Arrival of September Mourning

August 30, 2026 / / 0 Comments

My daughter has instilled upon us the notion that September is the month we strive to reach each year.  August is behind us; we have made through another year of anniversaries related to our grief. September brings new scenery, a different vibe, and a hint that soon we can hibernate. I have anticipated this month coming with hope until I recently read of how September is the worse month for grievers and that hit me. Have I got it all wrong?

The ‘experts’ state that September brings grievers a sense of dread. They suggest this month begins the anticipation of what hasn’t got done yet, what do we need to let go of.  The energy of the new year, far behind us, tasks seem a bit more daunting.  The lazy days of summer turn into the hustle of work, school and the upcoming holiday season. September shouts change. The kryptonite to grievers.

Even worse, September brings the awareness of the year ending and a new year beginning without our loved one. I remember thinking I didn’t want 2019 to arrive.  It would be the first year without my boy (physically) a part of it. That had an emotional impact I still feel every year.

The articles I was reading all allude to this, that mourning requires special attention in the fall. The suggestions are obvious, take care of yourself, know that this too shall pass…things one would practice every day. And then there’s the idea that we focus on that ‘we are alive’.  To Bounce Not Break writes, “Your person may be gone, but you are alive. You have a responsibility to not only stay alive, but to actually live. Your mother or father or beloved person who died wouldn’t want you to stagnate. You have the gift of more time. It’s okay to use it.”

Although each of us understands that in our minds, our heart struggles with this, especially in the early days. And the article does not further explain how one might do that with the guilt and the non-desire to try that comes with losing a child. So, I will take the last sentence, “It’s okay to use it”, as a reminder that I do have a life to which I can use to honor Zane by living a life he had imagined for me. Strength can be found in the notion of permission.

At the end of the day, I have decided that September is different for our family.  Each of us, for years now, looks forward to having the hell of summer pass. Fall soothes our pain. The changes of color, represents what we can’t control but the transformation is beautiful. The crispness of the air wanting us to cuddle up and pour a pumpkin spice latte are self care actions we look forward to.  Intuitively our family has treated September with the ideals suggested. Not for the popular reason it is a hard month, we missed that memo. No, for our family, September is about victory. About celebrating our tenacity, our resiliency. September is our month to exhale.

I Took My Soul on A Holiday

August 23, 2026 / / 0 Comments

We all need time to be alone, but no one wants to be lonely. A danger of loneliness is it deters healing, while being alone gives space for soul introspection. Being alone, does not mean you are lonely. Lonely wants you to think they are related and brings distraction, the cousin of loneliness to ensure you don’t figure this out. 

Distractions are the everyday happenings that turn our attention away from our soul. In the beginning we are told to look for distractions to ensure that our grief doesn’t overwhelm us. Perhaps that is where it begins. We put our grief on hold to focus on whatever the distraction is and when we do this enough times, we find ourselves looking for distractions rather than quiet moments. Our grieving soul is ignored.

There needs to be a balance between facing our grief, caring for our soul and following interruptions that take up all our energy.  Often, my soul has asked, “can you find some time to be alone with me?” It received no reply until fate intervened and I was asked to house sit for a month.

With the blessing of my family, I packed my bags, grocery shopped for one and moved in. I brought reading material, tarot cards, projects I have been meaning to do for years, and some work. I did not pack distractions. Each morning, I would meditate in the sunny backyard sipping a hot lemon water. I would take walks in the community, exploring the shops and the quaint houses along main street. I had no one to report to and more importantly, no one to care for but my own soul.

The first couple days were easy; I am burnt out, so I just read and slept. As the days turned to a week, I found myself journaling, pondering my needs, sketching possibilities of what could I change or create to support my soul better. I accepted only a few distractions; invitations to meet family for happy hour, to which I enjoyed with excitement.  Then I would re-enter silence.

In the quiet moments, we feel our loss; we cry, we sit with the brokenness of our heart. We know not how long it will last, so we bring in a distraction. When you are alone, there are fewer distractions and the uncomfortable feelings knock and enter easier. When you commit to being alone and letting those feelings run amok, the results are surprising.

A strange peace began to replace the anxiety of a jam-packed day. It was easier to identify what was a clear no rather than a muddled yes. I learned that I need the tranquility of nothing.  I gained a deeper insight into my grief. I was never lonely; my soul kept me company.

By the end of the month, I found myself looking for inspiration, rather than distractions, limiting my commitments and harboring my new routine of sun, meditation and aloneness.

As I packed my bags to leave my short sabbatical, I questioned if I have the answers to how to keep this pace when I return to the demands of my true reality. I do know that how I feel after this reprieve is what I need. My soul had a holiday to which nurtured every part of me. With that, I promised my soul to find more ways to hang out together. Alone.

Traditions of August

August 16, 2026 / / 0 Comments

August is a tough month for our family. Zane was killed on the seventh, and the thirteenth is his birthday. That year, we held his celebration of life on his birthday; a fitting way to honor the impact of his infinity. Since then, we have had the annual pleasure of Zane’s friends gathering with us to celebrate him on his birthday. Each year is a bit different, but food, drinks and memories shared are the main components. It has been a bittersweet tradition.

My sweet sister’s annual ritual is a bit different. On the seventh, she buys three bouquets of Lilies. She drives out to the site of the crash and places two of the bouquets at the unmarked cross that marks this spot. She then drives to my home to give me the third bouquet.

This year, we did a ‘reset.’ What that means is there was no collective cheer.  We are at a cross point where a few key members of our family have chosen to step back to address their grief (and their love for Zane) differently. I must honor that. There are a few more members that were away this year…yes life continues and does not stop for this one day. When one of my ‘favorites’ said it was too much to bear, I threw in the towel and decided that this year we go our separate ways, honoring him as individuals.

As we got closer to the birthday, my inability to let this year go by without any form of commemoration, led me to an idea. I took a trip to the liquor store and bought semi-bottles of gin, cans of Fever-Tree soda, lime slices, Doritos and bottles of bubbles. I made grab bags with a card explaining that some time on the thirteenth, if they could have a toast to Zane, snap a picture and send it to me, that will be our celebration for this year. 

It is funny how tradition plays with our grief. When a loved one passes, we are taught to tweak or change or cancel the traditions to accommodate our feelings. Or we build new ones. And that is what I did.  I made Zane’s birthday be about gathering EVERY year to ensure he was remembered and that we stayed connected to his friends.  I knew in my heart the year would come that it would end, but I wasn’t sure when and I didn’t want it to. I am once again feeling the pain that the loss of a tradition brings.

In my sadness I forgot about my sister’s tradition and when the call came in from her that the Lilies were on their way, I was filled with such gratitude that something was still the same. One of the traditions surrounding how our life has played out for the last eight years still happened. Somehow, those flowers smelled sweeter this year. She has no idea what her actions do for our hearts. Especially this year.

The thirteenth did arrive with hugs from his friends as I dropped off their goody bags. My son-in-law bought me lunch. My husband and I ventured out to our favorite watering hole for one, and then to a gin distillery, a new place I felt Zane would like, and then to a bar we enjoyed with Zane. The mixture of grief and drinks, sent me to bed early, accompanied by a headache in the morning; that part of tradition, I could do without!

My favorite part of the day was receiving pictures and videos from those who toasted Zane. I have a fabulous collection of beverages from all over the country that I will print and place in this year’s family photo album. Each one reminded me that he is fondly remembered. That, through him, we are connected. The tradition of celebrating my boy continues.

Eternity is Ours

August 9, 2026 /

The police came to our door on a Tuesday morning, bringing devastating news that no parent ever could imagine receiving.

“On behalf of Zane…”

What do you mean ‘on behalf’?

“…. there was a collision, he was killed….”

NO. NO. NO.

That was eight years ago. My heart shattered into sharp, angry shards of glass.  I have tried putting it back together since.  It is a mosaic at best with large cracks that metaphorically are supposed to let the light in. I think that these cracks let the whole universe in. I know that my heart will never be the same. My cardiologist agrees.    

How can my beautiful boy be gone for that long? I continue to wait as if in some magical Hollywood moment, he will return. I search for him everyday in the face of strangers, in the places he enjoyed. When my mind tries to say he is gone, my heart says different. He is still somewhere.

Zane shared with me a quote: “In some other life, we are standing and laughing, that in some other life, we are apart.” This ideal that we are together somewhere, brings me comfort.

No parent ever gets over the unnatural order of their child leaving earth first. Life becomes a search to find the elixir to keep present for our other loved ones, our own lives, and for the legacy of our child. I have found time does not make it easier. It does not soften the fact that there are no more physical hugs. Time becomes the biggest tease, and part of grieving is finding a way to endure this.

Over the last years I have clung to the ideal that our loved ones are not truly gone. I have immersed myself in courses that teach how to connect to the other realm, to recognize angel signs. It has led me to a desire to be more comfortable with the unknown. To understand and share with others, that death is not the end.

The belief that we are energy and that energy cannot be destroyed is the only scientific fact that I hold in my heart. If this can be true, as even Albert Einstein believed, then my son is still here. And albeit different, I can still have a close relationship with him. Forever.

The evidence is in the signs; a saying that comes across my computer when I am thinking of him. The small feathers that float out of nowhere to land in front of my path. The dragonfly that flies next to me on my walk. The scent of his cologne late at night or our song playing on the radio. 

These are confirmations, celestial proof our children are still here. Messages from heaven are felt by the soul; the foundation to keeping us connected to our loved ones. For eternity. Death cannot subdue this.

There is consolation in the belief that Zane and I have a connection that will stand the test of time. We experienced this life as mother and son and I believe we will find each other in the next life. In the meantime, I will continue patching my mosaic heart, trusting that love never dies, it holds us tight. We are bound for eternity, morning, noon and night.

One Last Time by John Edward

August 2, 2026 /

John Edward is an internationally acclaimed psychic medium whose book One Last Time is the story of his personal journey of discovering and developing his talents to communicate with the other side.

Throughout the book, Mr. Edward shares numerous readings and encounters with grieving individuals who sought messages from deceased loved ones. A major theme of the book is the enduring connection between heaven and earth.

He shares tips to receiving a successful reading through a medium. His advice is to “check your expectations at the door”. He states that the dead are ‘in charge’ as to who comes through and why and with what connection. Mediums are only the messenger of those from the other side.

He explains how he receives information through impressions, symbols, emotions, and images. His role is to share these feelings without censoring them. He tells his followers, “If I hear it, you’re going to hear it….” According to Mr. Edward, these communications can bring comfort, healing, and reassurance to those coping with loss.

Mr. Edward emphasizes hope, faith, and the idea that relationships continue beyond physical death. He encourages readers to remain open-minded about spiritual experiences and reminds us that signs from loved ones appear in everyday life.  (He conducts workshops for those who wish to develop their own psychic abilities.)

Overall, One Last Time combines autobiography, spiritual discussion, and accounts of mediumship to explore questions about the afterlife, grief, and the lasting bonds of love between people and their departed family members and friends.  It is an inspiring read that is both entertaining, and reassuring. Our loved ones never really die.

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