It was just my mom and me—she was my person. When she was diagnosed with rare cancer in 2016, we thought we’d beaten it. In 2018, she told me it had come back, but not how bad. She protected me even from the truth, right up until she couldn’t anymore. A week before she died, I took her to the hospital. I was still hoping she’d recover. Instead, a doctor told me, coldly, that the cancer had spread everywhere and they couldn’t save her. She was gone two days later. I planned the funeral alone, signed the paperwork alone, and somehow made it through those first weeks on autopilot. Then it hit—again and again. You don’t just grieve the person, you grieve the life you had with them. If you’ve lost your parent and had to hold everything together while breaking apart, I see you. I’ve lived it. The grief will still be there, but maybe I can help it feel less like it’s dragging you under & more like something you can carry, one moment at a time. Above all, you aren’t alone. I’m here to talk with you through the kind of grief that doesn’t have a neat beginning or end.