Grief minds think alike; broken hearts seldom differ.
We miss our children and want them to be remembered, honored, and included.
We want to hear, read, photograph, color, spy, write, and say our children’s names.
We want to be viewed as parents even when our children can’t be seen.
We want to find the beauty in the broken even when it’s hard to see through the fog of grief.
We are triggered easily by colors, smells, songs, places, and situations — this can be paralyzing.
We release the anger that builds within and succumb to the pain to overcome the effects of grief.
We want our family and friends to offer love and support rather than advice and clichés.
We are determined to find happiness and search for creative ways to ease the forever ache.
We want people to see the empty space, our concrete feet, and our empty arms.
We believe that some little things in life no longer matter, other things mean even more now.
We plan for the pain of life after loss and celebrate dates, holidays, and milestones regardless.
We keep going, even on the days when we take two steps backward for every step forward.
We have a need to be understood by those who cannot possibly understand.
We do not feel as strong as you think and insist we are, and we need to express our weaknesses.
We ride an emotional roller coaster daily; fear and fearlessness, sorrow and joy, hurt and hope.
We know what it is like to fall apart and rebuild our hearts even when pieces are missing.
We know that some days grief tackles us and some days we tackle grief. Every day, we wrestle.
We live life for the life that could not live — once we have decided and can reenter life.
We are an army: the protectors of words written for and photos taken of one another’s children.
We are adamant about creating a new normal even though life feels abnormally dysfunctional.
We recognize the pain of another bereaved parent yet know that no two grievers grieve the same.
We have formed an organized and supportive community of hope within the isolation of grief.
We will always love our children and no time, space, distance, or dimension will diminish that love.
We realize that grief minds think alike and find comfort in knowing that broken hearts seldom differ.
Photo Credit: Ginny Limer
Ginny Limer is a mother of five, teacher, and adventurer from Fort Worth, Texas. She founded Scared Sidless, a 501(c)3 nonprofit in order to support bereaved families, unite grieving siblings, and promote a lifestyle of creative, healthy grieving. Just as you exhale grief, Ginny encourages you to inhale hope.