Dear Cherished Reader,
This is my letter to my children as we all navigate through our grief. From the moment I knew I was carrying each of you, my life's purpose was to protect you. I chose every food, drink, and environment carefully, making sure you grew in the safest way possible. As you grew into school-aged children, I taught you our home address and phone number—so you’d always know that home was a safe place, and I was never far away, no matter the distance.
When you became teenagers, I equipped you with safety tips for driving and the courage to say no to harmful things. As young adults, I prayed you’d carry these lessons into the families you began to nurture. Yet, nothing could prepare me for the moment when all my efforts to protect you fell short. When life thrust us into a space where my “enough” wasn’t enough to shield you from pain or keep your hearts whole.
Losing a child shattered me, leaving me hollow, unable to find the words to comfort you, my other children, who still needed my strength. The grief felt like it swallowed every ounce of resilience I had. My protective instincts, once so powerful, crumbled into pieces, leaving me raw and exposed. How do I support you when I am drowning in my sorrow?
All that remains now is love—love that binds us together through the silence, through the tears, through the unspoken. In the midst of this grief, all we can do is hold on tightly to one another, letting God be our guide when words and wisdom fail.
I cling to the promise in Psalm 23:4, which says, "Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me."
May we find comfort in that, together.
With enduring love,
--Mommy
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