How We Remember, Grieve, and Keep Going
Today would have been my big brother Jeff’s 59th birthday.
He died just eight months ago.
This is our first without him, and the weight of that hits differently than the daily ache. Birthdays. Anniversaries. Milestones. They draw a thick line between “before” and “after.”
We’re not doing anything fancy.
I’m having lunch with my parents, taking a slow drive down the Great River Road—one of our favorite scenic stretches in Alton, IL—and we’ll meet up with my sister-in-law and nephews for dinner. Being together is the goal of the day. Just remembering him.
That’s the thing about grief. It shifts. It softens in places and sharpens in others. And somehow, we adapt. Not because it stops hurting, but because we learn how to carry it.
There’s Power in Remembering
Whether it’s a birthday, the day they died, or some random Tuesday when a song catches your breath in your chest, remembering is a sacred act.
You don’t have to do anything elaborate. A quiet moment. A walk. A favorite meal. Telling a story they loved. Lighting a candle.
There’s no “right” way. Only your way.
When my son died in October 2020, I didn’t set a tradition in stone. I still don’t. Some years I write. Some years I cry more. Some years I feel oddly peaceful. But I always make space. And that’s the ritual: I listen to what I need.
Milestones Matter—Even the Invisible Ones
So often, we power through these days like they’re any other. Especially as women in midlife—caretakers, professionals, doers—we don’t give ourselves permission to slow down. But these milestone moments are invites, not interruptions.
They say:
- “Pause.”
- “Feel this.”
- “Honor what was—and what still is.”
Grief doesn’t mean you’re stuck. Grief means you loved. And milestones help us remember how deeply, wildly, and fully we did.
Rituals Don’t Have to Be Perfect
You don’t have to bake the cake, light the lanterns, or hike the trail every year. Rituals can evolve. They can be as simple as breathing in the scent of their favorite flower, wearing something they gave you, or playing a song they loved on repeat.
Make it yours. Change it. Drop it. Pick it up again.
But above all—feel it. That’s the real tradition.
A Prompt to Personalize Your Grief Ritual
If you’ve lost someone, and a milestone is coming up (or just passed), try this:
💬 ChatGPT Prompt to Copy/Paste:
“Help me create a personal ritual or reflection activity to honor [insert name] on [insert date or milestone]. Keep it simple, meaningful, and tailored to how I process grief.”
You can include their personality, your traditions, or even what kind of emotional space you’re in this year. Use it as a journal prompt or as inspiration for what you want to do. Let this tool support your healing—on your terms.
For You, If You’re in the Thick of It
To the woman reading this while holding back tears (or letting them fall):
You’re not alone.
There’s no roadmap.
But there is grace in remembering, and strength in letting yourself feel it all.
Let the milestone be a soft place to land—not something to dread.
Gather your people. Or don’t. Light a candle. Or take a drive.
You don’t owe the world a performance of grief. Just your truth.
And that is more than enough.