In the aftermath of loss, it is so important for families to remember their children. Although their lives were brief, we honor them and give their life the dignity it deserves. We hold onto every moment we have with them. A few ways to honor their memory are listed below.

It's easy to feel hopeless when life doesn't go as planned. Whether it's a relationship gone sour or the loss of a loved one, we all have our moments when hope seems hard to find. According to the Catechism of the Catholic Church, Hope is the theological virtue by which we desire the Kingdom of Heaven and eternal life as our happiness, placing our trust in Christ's promises and relying not on our own strength, but on the help of the grace of the Holy Spirit.” (CCC 1817) Here are seven tips for finding hope in even the bleakest of circumstances:

Grief is a long and painful process. People who are grieving are often told that the first year of grief is the hardest, but I think the second year of grief can be just as difficult, if not more so. This isn’t talked about enough!

The main lesson I had learned almost ten months into my journey is that grief does not leave. The weight of it stays. It is a forever season. Because it is a forever love I carry for my son.

My husband and I got married on November 12th, 2021. What was supposed to be the best day of our life turned out to be the start of a nightmare. I remember bits and pieces of our wedding and nothing more. At our reception, I had this aching pain in my stomach. What I thought was appendicitis was an ovarian pregnancy that ruptured. I was rushed into immediate surgery. My brand-new husband and I were shocked, confused, and hurt. We didn’t know what to think. The first time I would ever circle “spouse” on any paper was in the middle of a miscarriage.

There will be restoration and redemption of broken families and broken hearts. There will be a gathering of all the holy love that was ever poured out. Love is never lost. It is only held in the crossbeam of salvation, held in the space between the nails and eternity, waiting to be glorified and released.

John Paul Raphael. His name was a prayer, a plea for him to reveal himself to me. I held myself in this sacred moment, spinning slowly through space. The veil between what actually is and what could have been seemed very thin and I imagined three alternate realities all at the same time.

What is strength in grief?

One of the hardest things about grief is that it makes me so hard on myself. For the first several weeks after my son died, I relished that there were no expectations on me or my feelings, from myself or anyone else. I was devastated and broken and the whole world around me knew it. Everyone accepted that I could not cook meals or drive my kids around or put a coherent sentence together.

One of the most painful parts of grief is loneliness. No matter how many people are in our lives, missing our son makes the whole world seem empty. No one can replace our son. Even if we have another child, we will still miss Cayse. This is why grief lasts, and in some way loneliness, too, for the rest of our lives. Accepting this loneliness is part of who we are. I think of my loneliness of my son as a way of keeping a space for him. It is a way of honoring the love we had.