Good Grief

Coping With Grief In My Own Life

Let’s talk about grief.  

I wanted to share why I’ve been absent for a while.  

My husband of 35 years was diagnosed with an aggressive form of lymphoma in March.  He was dead by June.  

What I'm realizing about grief is that as a society we’re just so ill-equipped to talk about it or deal with it.  Now that I am going through it myself,  I feel that I haven’t been the best supporter of grieving people that I now want to be.  

People think it’s just something you get over. What people say to you when you are grieving, even though maybe they have good intentions, is often just not helpful. I came across some suggestions of what to say to a person who is grieving that I’d like to share with you:

“Words” by Ullie-Kaye

Instead of saying, "I know what it feels like,” let's say "I cannot imagine your heartbreak."

Instead of saying, "You're strong, you'll get through this,” let's say, “You'll hurt, and I'll be here.”

Instead of saying, "You look like you're doing well,” let's say, "How are you holding up today?"

Instead of saying, "Healing takes time,” let's say "Healing has no timeline.”

Instead of saying, "Everything happens for a reason,” let's say, “This must feel so terribly senseless right now.”

And when there are no words to say at all, you don't need to try and find some. Love speaks in silences too.

I’ve just been spending a lot of time thinking about the work that I do with moms, where obviously there's the death of their children involved.  I feel after my own grief journey I’m certainly going to change the way that I sit with people in grief.  

In my work with mother’s whose children use drugs problematically- there is a lot of grief.  There is the grief of loosing a child as well as anticipatory grief.  In my own journey- these same mothers are the ones who have understood the most and have held me in my grief.

I’m going to talk about it more because we’re not immortal.  In our society, death is something people just don’t talk about, even though 100% of us are going to experience it and 100% of our families are going to experience grief.  Most companies give only three days of bereavement pay.  Like you’re supposed to get over losing the love of your life or your child or your parents in three days!  People are forced to go back to work, they’re stuffing their grief, and it just gets pushed under a rock.  It doesn’t go away.  If you’re not really trying to process it all, feel it all, lean into the pain of it all, it’s going to negatively affect your mental health. 

It sometimes feels like people think death is contagious.  People don’t want to ask if you’re okay because they don’t know how to sit with you when you’re not okay.  I’m trying to learn from what I’ve experienced and to be more open in talking about grief.  All those people that we’ve lost mattered.  We need to be able to process our grief, not be expected to “just move on.” 

I want to share with you how mothers are turning their grief into purpose and actually getting some lawmakers to pay attention! They lost their children due to failed systems, not to the drug.  It’s not the drug that killed their kids.  It was the system that failed them at many stops along the way.  These moms have turned pain into purpose.  

Susan Ousterman, founder of the Vilomah Foundation, shares these words with us about grief turned into action: 

Grief is love persevering, and when it stems from the loss of a child, it becomes an unstoppable force. The immense pain of losing a child ignites a drive not only to honor their memory but to transform that grief into action. This love, so powerful, compels us to advocate for change—starting with better policies that reflect compassion and justice for those affected by substance use and overdose.

I believe the growing number of bereaved mothers is a call to action from the universe, urging us to harness our fierce, unconditional love to transform our society into one that is more connected and compassionate. Child loss is a primal injustice, one that cannot be adequately addressed or healed through the confines of an oppressive legal system. The failed war on drugs has caused too many of us to betray our maternal intuition, forcing us to navigate a system that punishes rather than protects.

We are not driven by fear, for we already live with the worst pain known to the human experience. Having faced such profound suffering, we are unshakable in our pursuit of change. This love compels us to fight for a more humane system—one that prioritizes care and support over punishment. With courage born from grief, we press forward to reshape a system that has failed too many, ensuring that no other family must experience this unbearable loss in vain.

In my next entry, I will bring you the voices of moms who have lost a child and turned their pain into purpose, grief into action.  

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The “riderless ceremony” for my husband, with my two sons, daughter, daughter-in-law and grandson.