Grief invites us to reflect deeply, but it does not always give us the words to express what lives within our hearts. I hope my story resonates with those feeling similar silence or numbness, reminding us we're not alone in this journey. or grieving parents, hearing our child’s name is often a gift. It tells us that others still see the person we continue to love. Kevin’s death did not erase the thirty-three years he lived on this earth. It did not erase his kindness, creativ

For the past couple of weeks, I have felt the weight of anticipatory grief. Birthdays, especially milestones, have a way of stirring memories that seem tucked away on ordinary days. Suddenly, memories flood in, catching me off guard. A photograph, a song, or a fleeting thought transports me, making grief feel immediate and real. Sharing this helps others see how grief ebbs and flows, keeping the focus on personal experience. One minute, I was smiling as I looked at some of th

Kevin at a show, 2018 In Honor of Mental Health Awareness Month Mental illness is not something you can plan for. It doesn't offer warnings or wait for the "right" moment to arrive. It simply becomes part of your life, sometimes gradually, other times suddenly. I have learned this not from a textbook or a research study, but by loving my son Kevin and walking beside him through a twelve-year battle with clinical depression. When Kevin attempted suicide in 2008 and was diagnos

Have you ever felt a wave of frustration when someone has hurt or offended you? In those moments, even when laughter unexpectedly breaks through your sorrow, it can be hard to fully embrace joy. It’s natural to want to stay in that space of feeling wronged or upset. Grief can mirror this complex emotional landscape. We often think grief means being consumed by sadness every moment of every day. If we truly loved deeply, then sorrow should permanently overshadow joy. But grief

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

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