I began to understand why those who have experienced profound loss often communicate differently. There is an unspoken recognition between individuals who have endured similar grief—a quiet understanding that some forms of suffering permanently alter how you navigate the world. Great love and great suffering are intertwined because both can open our hearts wide. Sometimes, it is through those very cracks that compassion, faith, wisdom, and light can enter.

The suffering is real, the scars are visible, and the weight of loss lingers across generations. Yet alongside this sorrow is a powerful determination to continue living, rebuilding, and loving despite what has been lost. Perhaps what resonates with me most deeply about Vietnam is not only the reminders of humanity's capacity for destruction but also the enduring strength of the human spirit. Even after immense suffering, division, and loss, people continue to find ways to c

This piece is a deeply personal reflection on grief, resilience, and what it means to keep living after profound loss. Inspired by a long-awaited journey to Cambodia, it explores the emotional and spiritual impact of visiting a country marked by unimaginable history, including the legacy of the Khmer Rouge regime. What began as a postponed trip due to COVID-19 became something far more meaningful—a journey intertwined with memory, faith, and the loss of a beloved son.

There is a quiet distance between who I once was and who I am becoming, a space shaped by love, loss, and a deeper awareness I did not carry

Grief is a universal yet deeply personal experience, and it’s crucial to recognize that it cannot be fixed or solved. In a world that often demands quick answers, this reality can feel unsettling. Consequently, many people choose silence, fearing they might say the wrong thing. However, leaning into vulnerability and fostering open conversations can create profound connections and support healing for both the grieving and those who care for them. In everyday moments, I’ve not

Boundaries help us protect our emotional energy and serve as reminders that it’s okay to prioritize ourselves during this season. They are not about shutting people out but about creating space to breathe, heal, and simply be. My time, emotions, and peace are precious. And it’s okay to protect them with care. During grief, certain areas often need boundaries, especially around privacy, time, emotions, and personal belongings. When there has been tension or conflict in any

I didn’t truly grasp the complexity of suffering until I lost my beloved son, Kevin. Before his passing, I experienced pain like many others—disappointments, heartaches, and challenging times. Yet the kind of suffering that burrows deep into your soul and reshapes your view of the world was entirely foreign to me. Suffering, in its essence, transcends mere pain. It embodies the profound emotional, mental, or spiritual distress that weighs heavily on our hearts when something

And in both, God was there — not explaining, not fixing, but holding me and whispering that He remains my refuge and strength, my ever-present help in every season. Psalm 23 comforted me then, and it comforts me still. I now offer that same comfort to my sister-in-law. When you attend a funeral, remember that you are stepping onto sacred ground. The person in the front row is not only burying someone they love; they are also burying their life. Grief is not always loud. Somet