Here I was in Ireland in March 2025. Grateful for a getaway and navigating however I could after my first miscarriage.
Supporting someone who is grieving can be daunting. It’s tough terrain. Initially people check-in, give their condolences, and offer to let them know if you need anything.
It’s said with the best intention but asking a grieving person to reach out and request assistance when they’re struggling to get out of bed or even shower is a BIG ask.
There are people who will drop off food, send you an Uber gift card, have flowers delivered or mementos sent to you on mother’s day, a plant on your baby’s due date. Thank goodness for those sensitive souls who keep your heart company through it all.
Those who keep you feeling seen in times the world overlooks. Those that comprehend that grief doesn’t follow a clock.
That those little lives were carried for a moment and will be loved and honoured for a lifetime.
In the midst of some of the worst happenings of your life, it somehow becomes your task to train and teach others what it means to live with grief.
Then, people move on. Quickly. Their world continues to spin when your universe and the life inside you has halted. Life is busy for them. Death lingers with you.
People don’t know what to say, so some go quiet leaving you feeling desperately alone and misunderstood. Some fear saying the wrong thing or making you sad by bringing up your loss but not acknowledging them hurts more. If you’re not sure how to show up, ASK! It’s better than resentment rising.
A Loss Parent is always thinking of their child(ren). They don’t need you to distract them, they need you to sit with them. It’s always on our mind and hearts, and speaking about them keeps a part of them with us however long its been. It’s validating, not upsetting.
I get it, it can be uncomfortable. Many people can’t fathom the depth of your loss, so let’s engage empathy: How would you like to be met, seen or comforted in your lowest seasons?
In order to make some people more comfortable with my mourning, I asked them to periodically (or when they think of me and my angels) to send me a simple, random emoji. That’s it.
No words needed. Just a little bright spot on dark days.
People don’t want to intrude but the alternative is your feelings of isolation get louder.
After a second loss, society seems to have forged ahead even faster leaving me by the wayside.
If you haven’t checked in on anyone suffering any kind of loss (a job even, etc.), it’s never too late. Maybe it’s been awhile. Just send the text, an emoji, or gif. You’ll both feel better.
We want to be seen. We just want them to be remembered.
With compassion,
Kim
♡♡
Disclaimer: This is my journey. I’m sharing so maybe even just one other human may feel less alone. Our losses matters. Grief is not a competition. Bullying, comparisons or trying to one up someone’s grief will not be tolerated.
The F Word 
Leave a comment