Dear Journal,
Being home for Christmas has been comforting in many ways. Still, it isn’t the same. The gentle laughter that once filled these rooms is missing. The big, easy smiles aren’t here anymore. I hope, with time, pieces of them find their way back.
Watching my dad in the mornings has been especially hard. Mornings seem to be the heaviest. He keeps his routine — getting ready, making something to eat, feeding the two dogs — and then he goes outside with his cup of coffee. We’re in Michigan, and it’s cold, but he goes out anyway. I’ve watched him sit there the past few mornings, quietly sipping his coffee while tears fall.
There’s a wind chime that was given to him after my mom passed. When it chimes, we say it’s Mom singing. It always seems to ring just when we’re watching it, just when we need it most. In those moments, it brings a sense of peace — a reminder that she’s still surrounding us, still with us in ways we can’t fully explain.
Soon, we’ll leave and head back home, and the house will grow quiet again for my dad. The holidays have been heavy this year. Grief has a way of settling in deeper during seasons meant for joy. Still, we keep moving forward, gaining strength day by day, learning how to carry this loss while continuing on.
The year has closed and 2026 is here. Here’s to continuing to find the strength to survive each day and healing everyday to be a stronger person.
If you’re reading this and navigating your own grief — especially while still showing up as a mom — please know you’re not alone. Your feelings are valid, even on the days when joy and sorrow exist side by side. If this season feels heavy for you too, I invite you to stay awhile, to share your story, or simply to sit in the quiet knowing someone else understands. We’re learning, together, how to keep going — shattered, and still glowing.
With love,
The Shattered and Glowing Mama