Journal Entries

Thoughtful words and gentle ways to let someone know they haven't been forgotten. There are dates we remember without needing to look at a calendar. A birthday. A wedding anniversary. The day someone came into our lives. And sometimes, the day they left it. When someone we love dies, the anniversary of their death can become a date that carries enormous meaning. For the person grieving, it may be a day they've been anticipating for weeks. Or it may arrive quietly, bringing me

A thoughtful place for photographs, familiar belongings and memories people can share. A funeral memory table is a space where family and friends can remember the person who has died through photographs, meaningful objects and written memories. It can be part of a funeral, wake or celebration of life. It doesn’t need to be elaborate or expensive. A photograph, a few memory cards and somewhere to leave them can be enough. If you are arranging one, start with what feels managea

An ordinary note can hold something unexpectedly personal after someone dies. You might be looking for something else entirely. A receipt. An address. A birthday card you put away years ago. Then you see it. Their handwriting. And before you have even read the words, you know whose it is. The shape of a capital letter. The way the writing leans. A name underlined twice. The familiar signature at the bottom of a card. Something so ordinary, once, that you barely noticed it. No

Gentle, practical guidance for one of the most emotional tasks we face after losing someone we love. There is something particularly difficult about opening a wardrobe after someone has died. Their clothes are still hanging exactly where they left them. Their shoes are beside the door. The book they were reading is still on the bedside table. Everything looks so ordinary. So familiar. And yet, everything has changed. When someone we love dies, the things they leave behind can

The quiet sadness of watching life change around an absence that never quite disappears. There is something about a family photograph that can make you notice who isn't there. Everybody gathers together. Someone complains about having their picture taken. Somebody else insists on taking another because their eyes were closed. There is laughter, a little chaos, perhaps a child who refuses to look at the camera. An ordinary family moment. And then, sometimes, you look at the ph

The exhausting practical side of losing someone that nobody quite prepares you for. There is something particularly cruel about the days and weeks after somebody dies. At the very moment when you can barely think straight, life begins asking you to make decisions. Important decisions. Decisions about things you might never have dealt with before. There are telephone calls to make. Forms to complete. People to inform. Arrangements to organise. There are questions you don't kno

Gentle, practical guidance for navigating Christmas after bereavement. Facing your first Christmas after someone dies can feel overwhelming. It may help to make a flexible plan, tell people what feels manageable and give yourself permission to change traditions—or keep the ones that matter to you. You might choose to: Spend time with people who understand, with the option to leave early. Keep one familiar tradition and simplify the rest. Include a photograph, a remembrance de

Why enjoying life again doesn't mean you've forgotten the person you love. There is a moment that can take you completely by surprise after somebody dies. You find yourself laughing. Really laughing. Not the polite sort of laugh you offer when somebody is trying to cheer you up, but the kind that happens without thinking. For a few seconds, you're simply enjoying yourself. And then something changes. You remember. And suddenly, the happiness you were feeling is replaced by so

Meaningful remembrance ideas for birthdays, anniversaries, Christmas and the ordinary days in between. Ways to remember someone you love include displaying a favourite photograph, making a memory box, cooking their favourite meal, planting something in their memory or sharing stories about them. You might choose something for a birthday, the anniversary of their death or Christmas. Or you may prefer a small, private gesture on an ordinary day. Start with what feels manageable

What to say, what to do, and how to be there for someone after a death. To support someone who is grieving, acknowledge their loss, listen without trying to fix it, and offer practical help they can accept or decline. Keep checking in after the funeral, and follow their lead about talking, company or time alone. You could begin with: “I’m so sorry about [Name]. Would you like to talk, or would some quiet company help?” “I’m going shopping tomorrow. Can I pick anything up for

Gentle guidance and thoughtful examples for finding the words when someone is grieving.

Why ordinary belongings can become extraordinary after someone dies. There is a drawer somewhere in my house that contains things most people would probably consider unimportant. Little things. Things that have no financial value. Things that, in another life, might have been thrown away without a second thought. But they belonged to someone I love who is no longer here. And that changes everything. Because when somebody dies, the ordinary things they leave behind can become

The unexpected grief that can arrive in the middle of a happy moment. There is a particular kind of sadness that arrives when something good happens. Not when life is falling apart. Not on an anniversary or a birthday. But right in the middle of something wonderful. You get the job. Your child achieves something extraordinary. You hear some exciting news. Something happens that would have made them laugh. And for a fleeting moment, you want to tell them. Perhaps you even reac

There is a particular kind of kindness that grieving people rarely forget. It is the message that arrives on a date you thought nobody else would remember. The friend who says their name without looking uncomfortable. The person who sends a photograph they found and writes, “I thought you might like this.” The one who remembers that Christmas is complicated now. That a birthday can still be a birthday even when the person it belongs to is no longer here. That an ordinary Tues

There is a particular kind of sentence that often arrives after something terrible has happened. “At least you had all those years together.” “At least they didn’t suffer.” “At least you have another child.” “At least you have your memories.” Usually, the person saying it is trying to help. They can see pain and instinctively want to make it smaller. They search for the positive thing sitting somewhere beside the devastation and offer it to you, hoping it might make what happ

There is a strange expectation after someone dies that, eventually, you will begin joining in again. You will accept the invitation. Go to the dinner. Attend the wedding. Stay for Christmas. Come away for the weekend. Sometimes you will. And sometimes you will look at a perfectly kind invitation from somebody you love and think: I just can't. Not because you don't care. Not because you don't want to see them. But because grief can make ordinary things feel unexpectedly expens

We talk a lot about difficult dates when someone has died. Birthdays. Anniversaries. Christmas. Mother’s Day. Father’s Day. We know they are coming, so we brace ourselves for them. Sometimes other people remember too. A message arrives. A card drops through the door. Someone says their name. And then the date passes. The next morning arrives. And strangely, that can be difficult too. When everyone else moves on There can be so much anticipation around an important date that r

And why saying something imperfectly is nearly always better than saying nothing at all. When someone we care about is grieving, we become frightened of words. We worry about saying the wrong thing. We worry about upsetting them. We worry that mentioning the person who died will remind them of something they were momentarily managing to forget. So sometimes, we say nothing. But grief doesn’t work like that. You don’t remind a grieving person that someone they love has died. T

People had said to me before, “Death can be really beautiful.” And I would think, no. There is nothing beautiful about seeing your daughter die on life support while you watch numbers on a screen. There is nothing beautiful about finding your dad on the floor. Death had never shown me beauty. It had shown me shock. Trauma. Helplessness. The moment a life divided into everything that happened before and everything that would have to come afterwards. So when people used the wor

Nobody Warns You About the Tiny Conversations That Disappear Nobody warns you about all the tiny conversations that disappear when your person dies. We prepare ourselves, as much as anyone ever can, for the enormous absence. We know we will miss their face. Their voice. Their touch. We know there will be an empty chair, a side of the bed that is no longer slept in, a name we can no longer call from another room. But I don’t think we understand how many small conversations mak