Your words moved me to tears. Reading about your Kevin, I thought of my (Kevin) son, who also found life in music. He spent countless hours playing and composing, pouring his soul into every note. He, too, fought a good fight… but he lost his battle on the battlefield of depression.
Like you, I’ve wrestled with faith afterward and leaning into God, but not into the “toxic positivity” that people often offer when they don’t understand. Their intentions may be kind, but they do not know —and I pray they never have to know —what it is to live without our children.
Your words about sitting with the pain, about the rain and the whisper of your son’s spirit, they touched something sacred in me. I plan to write soon about this very thing: how we can honor both faith and the truth of our sorrow without pretending it’s all okay. Pain and faith coexist.
Thank you for sharing Kevin with us, and for reminding me that even in grief, love still speaks — in the music, in the rain, and in the quiet spaces where our sons still live on.
I am sending you warm hugs, and you are not alone!!! I will pray for you!
Thank you so much for your heartfelt message and sharing your own story too, Chano. Yes, I wholeheartedly agree that pain and faith do coexist, because they both come from love.
Immensely touching, Kelly. A fellow mother who grieves her son, Julia Gregg, wrote a book of Poetry which came to the forefront as I read this raw, courageous post. I must recommend you seek out “Send me a Light”, someday in the future when inspiration allows.
This is so very raw and honest. Losing your precious son as you have is patently not fair. As bereaved parents, I think we need to give ourselves permission to say and feel this. Sending love 🫂
Kelly, what a vulnerable and courageous piece. You offer us your heart cut open and bleeding, on the page. THank you for giving yourself permission to share this openly. It gives others the same permission to feel, break down, break apart, break open, and sit in the rain.
Tamy, thank you so much for reading it and sending this beautiful note. I am so grateful that it touched your heart. 💜 Sending you love and a virtual hug.
I was thinking of Kevin and you Sunday. I was on a walk with my parents at the downtown when we passed by a church. We stepped inside, it was the first time that I was attending the Sunday Service. And in that peaceful, I couldn’t help but think of Kevin. His light was so bright. I just want to let you know that he is still loved and so are you. I also believe that with all my heart that Kevin loved you so much and the love surrounds you still. You are not alone in missing him. I am holding both of you in my heart.
Your words moved me to tears. Reading about your Kevin, I thought of my (Kevin) son, who also found life in music. He spent countless hours playing and composing, pouring his soul into every note. He, too, fought a good fight… but he lost his battle on the battlefield of depression.
Like you, I’ve wrestled with faith afterward and leaning into God, but not into the “toxic positivity” that people often offer when they don’t understand. Their intentions may be kind, but they do not know —and I pray they never have to know —what it is to live without our children.
Your words about sitting with the pain, about the rain and the whisper of your son’s spirit, they touched something sacred in me. I plan to write soon about this very thing: how we can honor both faith and the truth of our sorrow without pretending it’s all okay. Pain and faith coexist.
Thank you for sharing Kevin with us, and for reminding me that even in grief, love still speaks — in the music, in the rain, and in the quiet spaces where our sons still live on.
I am sending you warm hugs, and you are not alone!!! I will pray for you!
Thank you so much for your heartfelt message and sharing your own story too, Chano. Yes, I wholeheartedly agree that pain and faith do coexist, because they both come from love.
Sending you my love and hugs!
Immensely touching, Kelly. A fellow mother who grieves her son, Julia Gregg, wrote a book of Poetry which came to the forefront as I read this raw, courageous post. I must recommend you seek out “Send me a Light”, someday in the future when inspiration allows.
Thank you for your kind words, David. I am very grateful that you introduced me to Julia's work. I look forward to reading her poetry.
This is so very raw and honest. Losing your precious son as you have is patently not fair. As bereaved parents, I think we need to give ourselves permission to say and feel this. Sending love 🫂
Kelly, what a vulnerable and courageous piece. You offer us your heart cut open and bleeding, on the page. THank you for giving yourself permission to share this openly. It gives others the same permission to feel, break down, break apart, break open, and sit in the rain.
Sending love into all your aching spaces. 💙✨🙏
Tamy, thank you so much for reading it and sending this beautiful note. I am so grateful that it touched your heart. 💜 Sending you love and a virtual hug.
💙✨🙏
I was thinking of Kevin and you Sunday. I was on a walk with my parents at the downtown when we passed by a church. We stepped inside, it was the first time that I was attending the Sunday Service. And in that peaceful, I couldn’t help but think of Kevin. His light was so bright. I just want to let you know that he is still loved and so are you. I also believe that with all my heart that Kevin loved you so much and the love surrounds you still. You are not alone in missing him. I am holding both of you in my heart.
Thank you so much for your kind words, Zengmin.
Kelly, my Dear Friend! I wish I could take some of your pain away… 🙏🙏🙏❤️❤️❤️
What a moving piece of writing. I wish you didn’t have to go through that, but you have expressed it so poignantly. ❤️
Thank you so much Christina! Your words meant a lot to me! ❤️❤️