Mother’s Day can be a difficult time for those experiencing grief. Whether you are missing your mom, grieving a child, navigating estrangement, or carrying the quiet ache of longing, this day can bring up deep and unexpected emotions. There is no right way to move through Mother’s Day when you are grieving, and you are not alone in how you feel.

Grief is a journey unlike any other. It can feel like walking through a dense fog, where every step forward is uncertain and the path behind seems lost. When loss touches your life, it’s natural to seek comfort and understanding. Thankfully, online resources designed to help you find your way through the shadows of sorrow toward a place of healing and hope. Finding Comfort with Online Grief Support When the world feels heavy, reaching out for support can be the first step tow

Holding Space for Grief There are conversations that stay with you, not because of what was said, but because of how it felt to be held while saying it. Recently, I had the honour of speaking with Helen Peacock on Afterlife Cafe TV. We explored what it truly means to hold space for grief and support the healing process after loss. It was one of those rare conversations where nothing needed to be rushed, explained away, or softened for the comfort of others. It was a space whe

Losing a friend can leave an ache that words can’t fully explain. It’s a quiet, persistent pain that shows up in unexpected moments. You might reach for your phone to send a message, only to realize they’re not there. A memory may surface out of nowhere, or something good happens, and you feel the absence of your friend. Sometimes, the loss comes from death. Other times, it stems from the end of a friendship with someone who is still alive. Both types of loss carry grief, and

I never shied away from getting support when I was struggling emotionally, and not a stranger to one-on-one therapy.When my husband died, I attended open grief support groups, closed support groups for those who lost a spouse, and one-on-one therapy with a grief therapist. Every group I attended and every session I dragged myself to had its purpose and helped me along my grief journey. However, in my one-on-one therapy sessions with my grief therapist, at times I felt like a

The recent passing of Queen Elizabeth II and her state funeral were televised throughout the globe in all their magnificence and grandeur. Grief and loss are not usually displayed in this magnitude nor so public, but it was a time when we were allowed to express our farewell and thank you. To talk about fond memories and to show our respect and admiration for a public figure who graced the world and monarchy for a 70-year reign. As the cameras panned the crowds of millions,

I say this from a place of love and personal experience. 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐥. I distinctively remember going to my grief therapist week after week asking, “When will I feel better?” and “When will my pain go away?” “In Time.” He replied. “You just have to give it time.” “How much time? A week, a month, a year?!!!” I was desperate in knowing the timeframe because my grief was consuming me, and it was debilitating. As days turned into months, I had some good days,

I remember asking this question when my husband died. Most people responded by saying that “I will always bear this pain. The new life I am now living will adapt to the heart-wrenching pain. It will lessen in time, but it will never go away.” Not very comforting. So listening to friends, family and society, I endured the pain and at times made unhealthy choices to numb my discomfort, to ease my heartache. My grief was at times crippling and debilitating. I pushed through

I have begun to embrace the things the old Zena enjoyed or incorporated in my life since my husband passed. Meditation, reiki, massages, angel card readings, going for long walks or hikes, hitting the gym three or more days a week and attending dance classes. The old Zena felt grounded and exhilarated when I participated in these activities. After my husband passed, the interests that once brought me joy were too hard to do. Unbearable, to be honest. I would walk into the

In attempting to be "strong" or be strong for others, most people hide their feelings. In effect, when we act strong and cover up our honest emotions, we are lying to those we interact with, and most importantly, we are lying to ourselves. Real strength comes from knowing how to acknowledge and communicate our feelings and not bury them. Grievers are often praised for appearing stoic or unswayed by tragedy. A surviving spouse may have a tremendously difficult task of stayin

For those grieving a loved one this Christmas, it may not be "Merry" or "Happy." So I will not wish you a Merry Christmas or Happy...

Each person's grief is as individual as your fingerprint. Unique to the person that you are. It is as rare as the love you shared with...