Breathing through Grieving

02/06/2026

01/23/2026

grief❤️‍🩹
No one warns you about the anger.
Not the sharp kind.
The quiet, simmering kind that lives under your skin when your child is gone.

Anger is one of the most misunderstood parts of grief, especially for grieving parents.
And yet, it is one of the most human.

You can be angry and still be loving.
Angry and still be kind.
Angry and still be grieving deeply.

Anger doesn’t mean you are bitter.
It doesn’t mean you are stuck.
It doesn’t mean you are doing grief wrong.

It means something sacred was taken.
It means your nervous system remembers the shock.
It means your love had no safe place to land.

For many parents, anger shows up after the casseroles stop, after the check ins fade, after the world moves on while you are still standing in the wreckage.

There is anger at the unfairness.
Anger at the silence.
Anger at the life you did not choose.

And none of it makes you bad.
It makes you human.

Grief is not just sadness.
Grief is love, shock, longing, exhaustion, and yes, anger.

If this resonates, you are not alone.
You never were.

If this spoke to you, you’re not alone.
If you feel able, comment with one word that describes your grief today
or say your child’s name.
Both are welcome here.

This is a safe place to be honest.

- Michelle Barbuto

01/21/2026

I have experienced this!

01/19/2026

This is spot on!

01/13/2026

True 💔

My hand stays open beneath the pale sky,
as if holding air might still be useful.
Nothing lands, but I don’t close it.
I learned long ago not to rush release.

The butterflies drift where answers should be,
light enough to move without permission.
I watch them like I once watched you sleep,
memorizing quiet so it won’t leave me.

Time keeps asking me to adjust my posture,
to stand straighter inside the world.
But a mother’s body remembers its shape,
even when what it carried is unseen.

Every ordinary moment has a shadow edge—
grocery lines, empty chairs, sunsets.
Pain doesn’t shout; it settles in,
takes notes, stays forever.

I don’t measure years anymore.
I measure distance from your laugh.
Some days it’s unbearable,
some days it’s just constant.

So I live like this—hand open,
heart fluent in absence.
Love didn’t lessen with time;
it learned how to breathe quietly.
— Angels Are Near

01/13/2026

We know the road behind us no longer leads where it once did.

Yet our eyes keep drifting back to the rear view mirror, searching for those familiar moments, those pieces of yesterday we can’t quite let go of.

Grief has a way of pulling us into the past. A memory catches us off guard and suddenly we’re there again.

For a moment, it feels real, like time paused just long enough to remind us how deeply we loved.

But we can’t stay there. And moving forward isn’t about forgetting.

It’s about learning to glance back with tenderness, to carry both the love and the longing as we continue down this new road.

Because even as life moves on, their memory rides with us, quietly shaping who we are and how we keep going. ❤️

Gary Sturgis - Surviving Grief

12/29/2025

As 2025 comes to a close, grief may “flare” up for many of us. I found this quote to be extremely accurate regarding grief.
It justifies my feelings. I hope you find this helpful.