Good Mourning Grief

A blog about my adventures as a grief warrior

Tag: #goomourninggrief

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 See You Beside Us

February 4, 2024 /

The annual staff party was a highlight of Zane’s. It started with pre-drinks at his friend’s house to which the boss and another friend joined.  They would laugh, play video games, and ‘prepare’ for the night ahead. I would drive him over and knew it would be a late-night cab ride home for him. He loved it. The tradition continues and Zane still attends in spirit.

As the favorite video game was played, his boss, yelled out, “here’s the part that I move in and beat Zane.  Every time”. He laughs as the game cheers his victory. A toast follows. When I was told this, I could just see them all gathered around the TV, chanting each other on. Including Zane. This is the same group that has adopted the Jameson shot (to be had at every gathering) in honor of their buddy. It has been five years since my son was physically with them and yet, their celebrating him through memories, shared stories, and chatter as if he was here, really brings him here.

In our family, talking about our loved ones who have passed, as if they are still present, is common. We have relatives who have never met my husband’s mother but talk of her as if they had a lifetime with her. I never met her, but I know she and I are friends. I can hear her laugh as she pulls out her next room temperature beer from the carton on the floor. She was golden. She is golden.

Our clan includes family that are here and from across the realm in our daily living. They will forever be family. We celebrate their birthdays with all their favorites, and we speak to them, aloud or through prayer, for guidance.  This is the power of storytelling. Of remembering. Of saying their names.  We know they are the stars above us that are watching out for us. Still. 

My heart is happy that Zane’s boss and his co-workers include him. Through their continued actions, their love of their friend, a culture of respect and inclusion has formed. The idea that Zane is not physically with them is subliminal to the joy he brought and still brings. My son is very lucky to have comrades that refuse to let death separate them.

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