Community

It’s a word that is standing out to me today.

Community can mean different things to different people. Some may see it as the people who live in the homes next door to theirs. Others may see it as the people who meet them at church every Sunday morning. Some may think of a book club, a Mahjong group, a sports team, or a volunteer organization. Community looks different to everyone, but at its heart, it is about connection.

Now, dealing with grief and experiencing “connection” can be tough. Grief can make you feel incredibly isolated and misunderstood. You can feel judged because you aren’t leaving the house enough, reaching out enough, or making enough effort to step outside your comfort zone.

In reality, those people usually aren’t judging you at all. They are concerned. They love you. They just want you to be okay.

One thing I’ve learned through this experience is that your people love you deeply. DEEPLY. But it’s hard for them to see you hurting. They want to fix it. They want to make it better. They want to find the right words. They say something because they care, not because they understand. And it’s difficult to explain that this is so much deeper than simply showing up, getting out of the house, or trying to stay busy.

Take a moment.

Seriously, take it with me.

Close your eyes.

Are they closed?

Now take a deep breath in.

And a deep breath out.

Now, on your next breath in, I want you to imagine you just got the call.

“We are so sorry. We don’t have many details yet, but we wanted to let you know that ________ was killed in a car accident.”

The phone hangs up.

Before you take that next breath out, think about what that means.

You will never see them again.

You will never hear their laugh.

You will never see their smile.

You will never watch them grow older than they were five minutes ago.

Your family has changed forever.

The future you imagined is gone.

A part of your purpose, your identity, and your heart died in that moment.

Now take that breath out.

How does it feel?

Is your chest heavier?

Does your stomach hurt?

Did you feel anxious?

Did you get emotional?

That is us.

Every day.

Every hour.

Every minute.

Life is forever changed.

Now, back to community.

I feel blessed to have a community of people in our circle. People who have been there for decades and people who have only been there for a few months.

For me, community includes my family. My beautiful blended family has always supported us, but over the past few months they have stepped up in ways I never could have imagined. Every single one of them has been a source of love and support for Eric and me.

Pam has always been part of our blended family, but through this loss, we have learned to lean on each other in ways we never expected. We share a bond that comes from loving Ryan and navigating this unimaginable loss together. Her family is our family, and our family is hers. In the midst of this heartbreak, we have found comfort in each other and a connection that has only grown deeper.

It includes the family members I have visited and made memories with. The ones I built forts with, vacationed at the beach with, spent Christmas mornings with, and held hands with as we attended funerals together. They have walked beside us through every season of life, and now they are walking beside us through this one.

It includes my friends. Those who have been in my life for over a decade and those who have become family somewhere along the way. It includes newer friendships where the connection was instant. Each one has shown up in their own way, and every act of kindness has mattered.

And then there are our neighbors.

Honestly, they deserve a category of their own.

These are the people we spend Friendsgiving with. The ones who organized meal trains. The ones who sent funny cards celebrating their dogs’ birthdays when we desperately needed a reason to smile. The ones who stood in our doorway delivering meals. The ones who sent texts, made calls, offered to walk our dogs, checked in, and kept checking in. The ones who share their own stories and simply want us to know that we are not alone.

But lately, we have found connection within a community none of us ever hoped to join.

A community brought together by the loss of a child.

The parents and stepparents who have walked similar paths. People navigating the same dark tunnel that Eric and I now find ourselves walking through.

This connection is different.

Not more important and not less important than the beautiful relationships we’ve built throughout our lives.

Just different.

These are the people who understand without explanation. The people who see us in a way others simply cannot. The people who validate feelings that often feel impossible to describe. The people who make sense of things that don’t make sense.

And in a strange way, these connections bring purpose.

I believe they bring purpose not only to Eric and me, but also to the individuals and couples we connect with. Some are years ahead of us on this journey. Some are only months ahead. Yet each conversation carries understanding, compassion, and hope.

I’m learning that connection comes in all shapes and sizes.

I’m grateful for every one of them.

Remember that breath we took together earlier?

The one where you imagined getting the call. The one where, for just a moment, your world stopped turning and nothing made sense anymore.

When you finally exhaled, maybe you felt a heaviness in your chest. Maybe your stomach dropped. Maybe your eyes filled with tears.

Now imagine carrying that feeling not for a moment, but for days, weeks, and months.

That’s where community matters.

Community cannot change what happened. It cannot bring your person back. It cannot erase the ache that comes from loving someone you can no longer hold, hear, or see.

But community sits beside you while you carry it.

Community checks in when the world has moved on.

Community speaks their name.

Community allows you to cry, laugh, remember, and grieve without needing to explain why.

Community reminds you that even in your darkest moments, you are not alone.

In a story filled with heartbreak, I see community as one of the blessings.

And while grief has shown me how much can be lost in a single moment, community has shown me how much love can still remain.

Every time I take that breath in and feel the weight of what we’ve lost, I am reminded that there are people helping us take the next breath out.

For that, I will be forever grateful.