Dear Journal,
September 12, 2025 was the day my mom was declared brain dead. Three months ago today. Somehow, it feels like both the longest time and no time at all. I think you may know exactly what I mean. I think this happens often as a parent—time stretches and collapses all at once.
The last three months have been some of the hardest of my life. Losing my mom—my best friend, my person. We talked multiple times a week. The kids called her constantly to give updates about their lives. We saw her almost weekly, if not more. Our guest room wasn’t really a guest room at all—it was Nana’s room, because she stayed so often.
It’s been a lonely road navigating my own grief while also being a mom to three children who are each grieving in their own way—at ages 10, 8, and 4. So many people want to help. They share their own stories of loss or try to console me, and I know it comes from love. But none of them are in the same position of carrying their own heartbreak while holding space for children who can—and cannot—fully understand what happened.
I feel pulled in every direction, trying to support my children while also trying to survive my own grief. My husband is here, but I don’t think he truly understands the depth of this loss. He once told me that losing his uncle was the same as me losing my mom—my children’s Nana, his mother-in-law, someone who was deeply woven into our daily lives.
It isn’t the same. And in these first three months of grieving my mom, it has felt painfully lonely.
Right now, I don’t have answers or wisdom neatly wrapped in hope. I’m still learning how to grieve while being the steady place my children need. I’m still figuring out how to be shattered and glowing at the same time.
If you’re a mom navigating grief—especially the loss of your own mother—I want you to know you’re not alone, even when it feels that way. This space exists for the in-between moments: the heartbreak, the confusion, and the quiet strength it takes to keep going for our kids.
We don’t have to have it all figured out. Sometimes, surviving the day is enough.
With love,
The Shattered and Glowing Mama