365 Days Without My Son
I’ve been dreading this day.
Not because I forgot — but because I remember everything.
It’s been 365 days without Logan. A full year of waking up in a house he was supposed to grow up in.
We bought this home with him in mind. We had plans for his bed. His equipment. The space we’d need for his care. We imagined what life would look like with him here. He was supposed to be a part of this next chapter.
Sometimes I still catch myself walking past a spot and thinking, “This is where his bed would’ve gone.” Even now, there are moments I pause and feel the weight of what never got to be.
Grief isn’t just about missing someone. It’s mourning what they were supposed to experience. And what we were supposed to experience with them.
But even in the ache — even in the long, quiet days — I’ve learned a few things this year. Things that helped me breathe again. Things that reminded me I’m still his mom.
And if you’re a grieving mother too, I want to share them with you.
What No One Told Me About the First Year
People talk about the early days — the fog, the shock, the funeral. But no one really prepares you for what happens after.
The first year without your child is full of invisible milestones: the first birthday without them, the first holiday you pretend to care about, the first time someone asks, “How many kids do you have?”
And suddenly, you freeze — because the answer is complicated now.
Here’s what I’ve learned in this first year that no one really talks about:
1. Time doesn’t heal — it just keeps moving.
Everyone loves to say, “Time heals all wounds.” But for me, time didn’t heal anything — it just made room for the weight of it to settle in.
Some days feel okay. Other days I’m undone by a memory, a sound, or just silence.
You don’t “get over” the loss of a child. You just learn how to carry it.
2. People stop checking in.
Not because they don’t care — but because life moves on for them.
And when they stop asking, it can feel like the world forgot.
But you didn’t. You won’t. You remember. And that’s enough.
3. Grief has no rules.
Some months I could function. Others, I was barely holding it together.
There’s no checklist. No map. No linear path through this.
And if you feel like the waves are still crashing, even a year later — that doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong.
What Actually Helped Me
There’s no fix for this kind of pain. But here are a few things that gently helped me keep going:
1. Creating small rituals to remember him.
Sometimes I light a candle. Other times I just scroll through old photos and let the feelings come.
It doesn’t have to be big. It’s just something I do that keeps me close to him in my own quiet way.
2. Giving myself permission to care for myself, too.
There were days I didn’t want to.
But little by little, I started doing small things — washing my face, drinking water, showing up for my body.
It wasn’t about “moving on.” It was about letting myself survive.
3. Letting people in — even a little.
Grief is isolating. But even just one person — a counselor, a friend, a voice that doesn’t try to fix you — makes a difference.
You don’t have to talk to everyone. But don’t try to carry this alone.
4. Letting my kids see my grief.
For a while, I tried to hold it in. I didn’t want to burden them.
But they’re grieving too. They lost their brother.
So I started letting them see my tears. I let them ask questions. I let them feel, too.
Grief is a part of love — and I want them to know it’s okay to carry both.
If You’re a Grieving Mom Too, This Is for You
I don’t have perfect words or a timeline to offer you. But I do know this:
You’re not alone. And you’re not doing it wrong.
There is no right way to grieve the loss of your child.
Some days you’ll feel strong. Other days you’ll feel like you’re barely holding on. God sees all of it — even the parts you’ve never said out loud.
You are still a mother. You are allowed to feel joy again. You are allowed to rest. You are allowed to feel everything — and still be held.
And if all you did today was remember them and keep breathing, that’s more than enough.
You are seen. You are loved. You are not walking through this alone.
Need a Gentle Place to Start?
I created a printable just for grieving moms called “Navigating Grief: Grace for Today.”
It’s a quiet, faith-based journal page with scripture and space to check in with your heart.
🕊️ Click here to download it for free
No pressure. Just something soft for the hard days.
With Love,
Nichelle
