childhoodgrief

I wrote a children’s book about grief because I couldn’t find one that said what needed to be said.

When a loved one dies, adults struggle to find the words. For children, it’s even harder. They feel the shift. They notice the absence. But they don’t always understand what happened or what it means for their safety.

I wanted to create something gentle but honest. Something that didn’t use confusing euphemisms, but also didn’t overwhelm young minds with fear.

So I wrote She Died. I Am Safe. / Ella Murió. Estoy a Salvo.

It’s a bilingual picture book created to help toddlers and young children process the death of someone they love. Through simple language, calming imagery, and a guided breathing exercise, it reassures children that while someone has died, they are still safe, cared for, and loved.

This project is deeply personal to me. Grief has touched my life, like it has for so many others. Writing this book was both healing and purposeful. My hope is that it helps families start conversations that feel impossible to begin.

If you’re supporting a grieving child, please know you’re not alone. And if this book can be a tool in your healing toolbox, I’m grateful.

You can learn more about the book here: a.co/d/05MIDfYT

Thank you for holding space for stories like this.

#Grief #childhoodgrief #Parenting #MentalHealth #childmentalhealth #bilingualfamilies #spanishspeakingfamilies

I want to like May, I really do. But I just can’t. Hear me out.

May brings new life. It ushers in a tapestry of flowers and abundant sunshine and the promise of endless summer, of bonfires and warm nights. For me, the stark contrast of loss against a backdrop of such beauty has always been too much to reconcile. Beauty should be born in May. It should not die.

May 14, 1995 was Mother’s Day. I had turned eight years old two months before. I still have a framed photograph from that day of myself, my mom, and our family dog, sitting in the backyard in the sun – my mom in a brightly striped beach chair, me in the grass next to her, leaned in close and clutching on as if to say, “Don’t leave me.” In retrospect, I wonder how much I was actually able to appreciate on a day that’s all about appreciation. Did I thank my mom for all that she did for me? Did I make her a well-intentioned but less-than-impressive card by hand? Did I give her a gift? Did I say, simply, I love you?

Six days later, she did leave me.

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An excerpt from my essay "To May, with Loss," published by The Manifest-Station in 2015. This essay (and all of my other writing) is available at my Linktree page:

linktr.ee/girl_meets_grief

As both Mother's Day and my mom's 27th death anniversary approaches, I'm reminded yet again (as I am every year) that not only is grief not linear...it is not time-limited. It doesn't go away. It makes no difference how long it's been; it will always hurt, especially on anniversaries/birthdays/holidays/milestones. It just hurts differently with time.

#Grief #griefawareness #griefsupport #griefjourney #normalizegrief #Loss #Healing #Trauma #motherloss #MotherlessDaughter #childhoodloss #childhoodgrief #childhoodgriefsurvivor #griefsupportcoach #griefsupportspecialist #griefeducator #certifiedgriefeducator #Writing #griefwriting #manifeststation #girlmeetsgrief