This blog is a follow up to “When Grief Meets Grief: Navigating Loss Within Loss”
He’s gone. We knew this moment was coming. It crept in slowly, painfully, and now it has arrived. Even though we were bracing for it, nothing could truly prepare us. The world feels both quieter and heavier without him here. His body is finally at rest, but grief is not. Grief lingers. It changes shape, shifting into corners of the heart you didn’t even know existed. The ache of watching him fade is over, but now there is the silence that follows the last breath. The stillness. The finality.
And through all of it—my mom.
She was there beside him when his body gave out. She held his hand when he could no longer hold hers. She loved him not just in the beautiful years, but in the hardest ones. Every single day, she showed up with more strength and compassion than anyone should ever have to summon.
I watched her give him dignity at the end. I watched her care for him with such tenderness, even as her own heart was breaking. She showed me what love really looks like. Not the easy, light kind of love we often talk about. But the gritty, faithful love you live out. The kind that wraps a frail body in blankets. The kind that whispers “I’m here” even when those words may not be heard. The kind that stays, even when staying is unbearably hard.
My mom has always been my picture of devotion. But that word feels too small now. She didn’t just witness his last days—she carried them. She softened them. She turned something unbearably hard into something gentler. And in doing so, she taught me what it means to love someone all the way through.
Her grief now runs deep. And while I carry this loss, I ache even more for hers. For the pain written on her face. For the quiet tears she tries to hide. I wish I could take it all from her. But what I can do is honor her. See her. Tell the truth about who she is.
So this is for my mom.
For the way she loved him when it was beautiful, and when it was unbearably hard. For the way she stayed, even when staying broke her. For the way she carries grace in her bones, even now.
This grief belongs to her too. But so does the legacy of love. And that is what I will keep holding up to the light.