SacraMom.com

Today marks three years without my mom.

Every fall since her passing, my body remembers the crisp autumn air of 2022, when her health began to decline. I remember the cold mornings, the early sunsets, and the colorful drives up north. Fall has always been my favorite season; it still is. But now, woven into the beauty of changing leaves are the memories of our last few weeks with her.

Over the past few years, several friends have lost parents. My heart aches for them—I know the road they’ve just embarked on, the club they’ve unwillingly joined. No matter your age, losing a parent changes you. Humanity is designed that way; the human experience intertwines generations, teaching us how to love in all its different forms.

I’m no expert, but I’ve found myself sharing a few small pieces of advice with those walking through the first tender stages of grief.

1. Surround yourself with their image.

Put pictures everywhere—on your nightstand, your fridge, your phone. Keep their face close. After Mom’s passing, I made my kids a photo book. They still take it out and show their younger siblings. Their memories may fade with time, but those pictures help keep her alive in our home.

2. Allow people to help you.

Even if you feel like you can do it all, let others in. We are the Body of Christ, called to serve one another. Allow yourself to be served, and allow others the grace of performing works of mercy.

3. Look for the consolations.

This may be the most powerful advice I can offer. The Lord gives and the Lord takes away, but He never leaves us empty-handed. In every loss, He offers countless consolations. Look for how He is loving you through your grief.

4. Reflect on the prayers offered for your loved one.

It’s easy to let the Masses and prayers for the departed blend into the background—but they are powerful. They matter. They are part of God’s mercy and your loved one’s final perseverance.

5. Be aware of what happens at the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.

I always knew that heaven joins earth at the Eucharistic table, but I felt it for the first time after Mom’s passing. With the eyes of faith, I can see her there—among the Church Triumphant—united with us in worship.

Grief is one of the strangest journeys I’ve ever taken. It’s like setting out carrying the weight of a boulder, yet somehow still finding your hands free enough to keep living, working, and loving.

Fortunately, Mom taught us to do those things exceptionally well—and to do them joyfully. And so we do.