What No One Tells You About Grief

I'm handing over my blog for the next few months to someone who understands loss in ways I'm still learning to articulate. Ebony McMullen, the protagonist of The Colors of Home, has been living in my head for years, and she's ready to share what it really means to rebuild a life from broken pieces. Her voice deserves space beyond the novel's pages.

Finding Light in the Wreckage: What Grief Has Taught Me About Survival

I'm not going to lie to you and say everything's okay now. That grief has made me stronger, or I've found some silver lining that makes Michael's death worth it.

Because it's not worth it. I'd give anything to have him back.

But I'm still here. My kids are still here. And somewhere in the rubble of our old life, we're finding ways to keep going, I never thought possible.

If you're in the thick of grief right now, if you're wondering how you'll survive another day, here's what I wish I could tell you over coffee while you cry into your mug.

You're Stronger Than You Think

I know you don't feel strong. I didn't either. Some days I still don't. But I've learned strength isn't feeling confident or capable. Strength is getting out of bed when everything in you wants to stay there. It's making lunch for your kids when you can barely feed yourself. It's choosing to breathe through another hour when breathing feels pointless.

Every morning you wake up and choose to keep going, that's strength. Even when it doesn't feel like it.

I used to think I couldn't survive without Michael. I wasn't equipped to handle life alone. That I'd collapse under the weight of single parenting, financial stress, and grief.

But I'm still standing. Barely sometimes, but standing.

You're stronger than you think. Not because grief makes you strong, but because you keep showing up even when it would be easier to quit.

Small Victories Count

In the beginning, I measured my days by how much I didn't fall apart. If I made it to bedtime without a complete breakdown, that was success.

I've learned to celebrate the smallest things. Getting the kids to school on time. Remembering to pay the electric bill. Taking a shower. Eating an actual meal instead of only drinking coffee.

These aren't the victories I dreamed of. But they're the ones that matter right now.

Some days, survival is the victory. And that's okay.

Your Children Are More Resilient Than You Fear

I was terrified I'd break my kids. My grief would damage them irreparably. That watching me struggle would scar them forever.

But kids are resilient in ways we forget. They're learning pain doesn't destroy you. You can be sad and still function. Love doesn't end because life falls apart.

Owen is angry, but he's still here. Still coming home. Still trying.

Scotty is carrying too much, and he's struggling. A silent storm is brewing inside of him, and he won't let me in.

Destiny finds joy in butterflies, ladybugs, and the smallest acts of kindness.

They're not okay. But they're surviving. And they're teaching me broken doesn't mean destroyed.

Kindness Still Exists

Kindness showed up in unexpected places.

Loretta at the country store, placing extra fried pies into my bag. Dee at the diner, sending home meatloaf, fried chicken, and other foods now that Owen works there. She never makes me feel like a charity case. Strangers who became friends simply by showing up when everyone else disappeared.

Even in the darkest seasons, there are still people who choose kindness. Who see your pain and don't run from it and remind you humanity isn't completely broken.

Look for them. and let them help. Their presence matters more than you know.

You Don't Have to Choose Between Grief and Joy

This is the hardest lesson I'm still learning.

But Destiny taught me she misses her daddy fiercely and still finds wonder in small things. She grieves and laughs in the same afternoon, and somehow that's not a contradiction.

Maybe joy isn't betrayal, but choosing to notice beauty alongside pain is how we honor the people we've lost, by refusing to let grief steal every good thing from us.

I'm not there yet. But I'm trying.

What I Know Now

Grief hasn't made me grateful for the journey. But it's shown me I can survive things I thought would destroy me. Kindness exists even in darkness.

I'm still broken. Still struggling. Still figuring out how to live this life I never wanted.

But I'm here. And that counts for something.

If you're grieving right now, you're stronger than you know. The fact that you're still breathing and trying to show up matters.

Keep going. Even when it's hard. Especially when it's hard.

You're not alone in this.