As It Is Ceremonies

07/04/2026

07/04/2026

Can any of you relate?

07/04/2026

Nothing could change that.

07/04/2026

There was a time when I wished my grief would just go away. I didn’t want to feel sad, scared, anxious, angry, tired, etc any longer. But, if my grief disappeared wouldn’t that mean I either forgot about Lauren or didn’t love her? So, my grief is always by my side as I do keep going.

💜HC

28/03/2026

Losing a sibling is about loss of past, present and future. So often bereaved siblings are the forgotten mourners. People will likely ask a bereaved sibling how their parents are coping but often forget about the huge loss for the siblings.
And our relationships with our siblings are often complicated too which also makes the grieving process complex.

03/02/2026

If people truly knew how much I miss you,
they wouldn’t ask how I’m doing.
They would wonder how I’m still standing,
how I still wake up,
how I still breathe through days that feel heavier than the last.

Missing you isn’t one moment.
It’s every moment that followed the one where everything changed.
It’s in the quiet mornings,
the empty spaces,
the pauses where your name almost slips out of my mouth. 🌫️

Some days I carry the grief gently,
like a photograph folded carefully in my pocket.
Other days it feels like a weight on my chest,
reminding me that love doesn’t disappear just because someone does. 🤍

I smile when I have to.
I laugh when it’s expected.
But there’s a part of me that still waits—
as if you might walk back in,
as if time might feel merciful for just one second. 🕯️

They don’t see the conversations I still have with you.
The way I talk to the sky.
The way memories arrive without warning
and leave me breathless in their wake. 🌙

If people knew how much I miss you,
they’d understand that survival isn’t strength.
It’s simply what love does when it has nowhere else to go.
It stays.
It aches.
It learns how to live alongside the loss. 🖤

I am still breathing,
not because it’s easy,
but because love like this doesn’t end—
it transforms into something quieter,
something deeper,
something that lives in every heartbeat. 🌊

So I carry you with me.
In the silence.
In the sorrow.
In the small moments that still feel too big without you.

Missing you isn’t weakness.
It’s proof that you mattered.
And you always will. 🤍

29/12/2025

Yes, all of this. It wasn’t a “routine” but more of a “favorite thing” that I remembered recently. We were talking about bananas, of all things. And someone mentioned smoothies and a pb/banana smoothie which was a favorite of Lauren’s. It reminded me that I had made her one that morning. I can still see the cup sitting on the counter…

💜HC

29/12/2025

Happy New Year’s in Heaven. You are so missed! 🥰

05/11/2025

I had a REALLY hard time with this for the first year. How was I supposed to use past tense when talking about you? That felt so wrong. Even now I find myself pausing when talking about Lauren—it really is “she had, she was, this was hers.” But I will always say “she IS beautiful.”

💜HC

27/09/2025

When a mother loses a baby, their DNA doesn’t just disappear.
It lives inside of her.
Little fragments of them stay
woven into her blood, her bones, her very being.
She carries them forever, even when the world assumes she’s “moved on.”

Science calls it microchimerism.
But mothers call it love that never left.
Her baby’s cells cross into her body and stay there for a lifetime.
A physical reminder that they were real, they existed, they mattered.

So even when her arms are empty, she is never truly without them.
Their presence lingers in her body, her heartbeat, her cells.
She doesn’t just remember them…
she holds them, every single day, in ways no one can see.

Motherhood doesn’t end with loss.
It lives on in her body.
It lives on in her soul.
It lives on in the love that never had the chance to grow old.

She carries her baby forever.
Not just in her heart.
But in every part of who she is.

05/09/2025

Let them be sad.

Anything else you would like to add to this for someone who is helping a grieving friend?