05/16/2026
🦋 Loss still defines me 25 years later but not like it did three years after my child died. My grief evolved. I rewired my entire being, learned to love a non-physical presence and found enormous joy living what I loved most about her.💜
Tonight, an old post I wrote for Still Standing Magazine came up on my feed. I clicked the link.
In a nutshell it read, “They say you should never let your loss define you... I AM a bereaved mother."
At the time, I was still navigating the strange, heavy landscape of early grief, trying to make sense of a world that felt increasingly distant from the one where he existed.
Back then, I concluded that this loss did define me. I needed it to. Because if it defined me, it meant he was real. It meant he was seen.
Now, ten years in, I’m reflecting on that piece. Looking at the woman I am today... the way I live, my perspective, and the deep work I’ve done to unlearn, rewire, and intentionally find my way back to life, and even joy.
Does this loss still define me? Yes.
But the definition has changed.
For a long time, we are told not to let grief define us because people assume "defined by loss" means being eternally broken, stuck, and devastated.
But I’ve learned we get to decide what it actually looks like amd means.
Who I am today... the healing I continue to do, the trauma I’ve processed, and the way I show up in this world... is all because he lived. Because he died. Because I have had to walk through the fire of grief.
Defining ourselves as bereaved parents doesn’t have to mean we are only defined by a "before" and "after." Or that we are forever broken (even though it may feel that way now).
It means we are people who can:
❤️ Live full, vibrant lives while carrying big grief and a deep missing of them.
❤️ Laugh and experience happiness because we know the weight of the alternative.
❤️ Create positive ripples in the world as a secondary heartbeat for our children.
❤️ Learn to live with them in a brand-new way.
In Year 3, I needed the definition to be what it was because I needed to feel and process the pain. It was my proof he was real... that this happened.
Now, after 10 years, my definition has changed and it's the foundation for how I honor him through my own living. It is no longer rooted in pain, but in life.
We get to decide what it means to be a "bereaved parent." It doesn't have to be a life sentence of endless pain; it can be a lifelong evolution of love.
My loss shaped every part of me, it changed my DNA, and it redefined my purpose. And today, I am still more than okay with that.
Have you felt your own definition begin to change?