Have you ever stood in the middle of a store and felt completely overwhelmed by a simple decision? Or picked up your phone to make a call, only to realize you could not remember who you were supposed to call or why?

Maybe you have looked at the unopened mail and the dishes in the sink and decided they can both wait for another day. If that has happened since your child left this earth, you are not lazy or becoming incompetent. You are grieving.

That is why everyday tasks feel so hard after child loss. Grief affects us much more than our emotions. It can affect our attention, memory, sleep, energy, and ability to make decisions.

When I Could Not Trust My Own Mind

After Becca died, I had experiences that were not only frustrating; they were frightening. I did not recognize the way my own mind was working, or sometimes not working.

One day I went grocery shopping. I made it through the store, chose what I needed, paid for everything, and went home. But when I got home, I realized I did not have the groceries. I had forgotten to pull the car up so they could load them. I had to drive all the way back to pick them up.

Another time, I was driving somewhere and suddenly realized I did not remember where I was supposed to be going. I pulled off to the side of the road and checked my phone, hoping the destination was on my calendar. Thankfully, it was.

Then there was the day I came out of Walmart and could not find my car. I did not even remember driving there. I could not remember which door I had used to enter the store, so I had no idea which section of that huge parking lot to search.

I wandered around the parking lot crying until I finally found it. My daughter had died, my world had been shattered, and now I could not even remember where I had left my car. Almost fifteen years later, I still park in the same area whenever I go there. It is simply a small habit I formed that makes one part of life easier.

Grief Uses More of Us Than We Realize

When we are grieving, our minds and bodies are carrying an enormous load, even when we appear to be doing nothing. Missing our child takes energy. Holding ourselves together during a conversation takes energy. Trying to sleep takes energy and then trying to function after not sleeping takes even more.

Meanwhile, the responsibilities of life do not stop. Meals still need to be made. Bills still need to be paid. Jobs, homes, relationships, and sometimes other children or grandchildren still need our attention. The world continues moving while we feel as though ours has come to a complete stop.

That helps explain why everyday tasks feel so hard after child loss. When you finish one small errand and feel as if you have run a marathon, it is not because you did only one small thing. It is because you did that one thing while also carrying the weight of child loss.

When Simple Decisions Feel Overwhelming

Before our child died, we probably made hundreds of decisions throughout the day without giving them much thought. What should I wear? What should we eat? Which message should I answer first?

In grief, even those small decisions can feel like too much. We may stand in front of the refrigerator unable to decide what to eat, simply because we do not have anything left to give that decision.

This is one reason routines can be helpful. Eating the same easy breakfast for several days, keeping commonly used items in the same place, or writing down what needs to happen can reduce the number of decisions we have to make.

Use the calendar. Set the alarm. Make the list. A reminder on your phone does not mean something is wrong with you. These are tools that support a mind carrying more than it was created to carry all at once.

What Truly Needs to Be Done Today?

When everyday tasks feel so hard after child loss, it may help to ask: What truly needs to be done today? Not what used to get done. Not everything you think you should be able to handle. What actually needs your attention today?

Sometimes, the answer may be one phone call, taking your medication, eating something, or paying one bill. On some days, getting out of bed and taking a shower may use most of what you have. On another day, you may be able to do more. Grief is not consistent, so your capacity will not always be consistent either.

If several things must be done, try choosing one instead of looking at the entire list. Make the phone call. Then rest. Open one piece of mail. Then decide whether you have the capacity for another.

And if something does not truly need to happen today, it’s okay to let it wait.

You May Need Help Carrying It

Many pareavors feel guilty because they are not accomplishing what they used to accomplish. They look at what is undone and wonder, What is wrong with me?

Grief exhaustion can be physical, mental, emotional and spiritual all at the same time. Resting because you are depleted is not laziness. It is responding to what your body and mind are telling you.

You may also need someone else to take a task off your hands. Perhaps they could pick up groceries, bring a meal, drive you to an appointment or sit with you while you make a difficult phone call. Asking for that help does not mean you have failed.

Give Yourself Grace

Please do not measure yourself by what you could do before your child died. And try not to measure today’s capacity by what you managed to do yesterday. A day that feels slightly lighter may be followed by one that takes you to your knees.

Buy the easy meal. Leave the gathering early. Let the nonessential task wait. These things do not make you less capable. They are ways of caring for yourself while your mind and body are carrying a load that others may not be able to see.

God sees that load. He knows the effort it took to get out of bed, to walk into the store, or to whisper His name when you did not have words for a prayer.

When everyday tasks feel so hard after child loss, even one small step can take more courage than anyone else realizes. God sees what it costs you, and you can let that one step be enough for today.

If someone who loves you wants to understand why everyday tasks feel so hard after child loss, Come Grieve Through Our Eyes 2nd Edition may help you share what you do not have the energy to explain. I talk more about that in the full podcast episode, along with ways others can offer help that actually helps.

NOTE: This was partially taken from the Grieving Parents Sharing Hope podcast episode 368. Click here to listen to the full discussion, or look for the Grieving Parents Sharing Hope podcast on your favorite listening app.

Pre-order Come Grieve Through Our Eyes and begin the journey toward deeper understanding and compassion.

Free printable guide: Rebuilding Your Life: A Gentle Guide Toward Hope and Healing After Child Loss.

Check out all the GPS Hope resources here.

To support this podcast and, keep it ad-free, and get exclusive content, visit us on Patreon

Download our FREE GUIDE. Rebuilding Your Life: A Gentle Guide Toward Hope and Healing After Child Loss. Discover gentle encouragement for your broken heart, practical support for the days ahead, and hope that meets you right where you are.

AWARD WINNING AUTHOR, LAURA DIEHL, has written several impactful books that provide comfort and guidance to those navigating the painful journey of child loss, after the death of her own daughter in 2011. Her most acclaimed work, When Tragedy Strikes: Rebuilding Your Life with Hope and Healing After the Death of Your Child, has received multiple accolades, including the 2017 Gold Medal Centauri Christian Book Award for Non-Fiction and a Silver Medal in the 2018 Illumination Awards. Several of her other books have won awards as well.

In addition to her writing, Laura is an ordained minister and has an extensive background in international children’s ministry. She is a sought-after speaker and singer at grief conferences and churches, known for her compassionate approach and deep understanding of the grieving process, especially the unique loss of a child. Through her weekly award-winning podcast, her writings, and other resources provided by GPS Hope, Laura and her husband, Dave, continue to provide hope and healing to thousands of parents worldwide, helping them find light in the midst of profound loss and darkness.

For more information about Laura’s award-winning books go to gpshope.org/books.
To find out more about Laura Diehl and the ministry of Grieving Parents Sharing Hope (GPS Hope) visit gpshope.org.

The link to Hope for the Future is an affiliate link, allowing part of the purchase price to go to GPS Hope. 

There are Bible verses that can sound beautiful when life is going well, but feel almost impossible to receive when our hearts have been shattered. For a pareavor, verses about trials producing perseverance or God working things together for good can be difficult to hear after the death of our child. They may even feel hurtful when someone uses them to rush us through our grief or convince us that we should already see something good in what happened.

So, what happens when grace meets grief after child loss? Does God’s grace require us to stop hurting, find the blessing or let go of our child? I do not believe it does. Grace does not deny how devastating this is. It meets us here, in the place we never wanted to be.

A powerful encounter with God does not prevent suffering

In 2 Corinthians 12, the apostle Paul describes someone, whom most Bible scholars believe was Paul himself, being caught up into paradise and hearing things human words could not express.

But then Paul tells us he was given what he called a thorn in his flesh. We are not told exactly what that thorn was. What we do know is that it tormented him, and he desperately wanted it gone. Three times, Paul pleaded with God to take it away.

The timing stands out to me. The thorn came after that wonderful encounter with God. Paul had experienced something glorious and deeply personal with the Lord, yet his life did not become free from pain. His life reminds us that closeness with God does not mean a life without suffering. Suffering does not automatically mean we did something wrong or that God has moved away from us.

Grace does not wait for the pain to leave

It is important to acknowledge that Paul pleaded for relief. Asking God to take away our pain is not a lack of faith. Paul did not pretend the thorn did not hurt, and he did not call it good.

God’s response was, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

Before we go any further, let’s pause for a moment and talk about grace. For most of my life, I heard grace defined as God’s undeserved mercy and favor. That is certainly part of it, but if we apply only that definition here, God’s response to Paul can sound confusing. How would God’s favor alone sustain Paul through something that continued to torment him?

Over the years, I have come to understand that grace also includes God’s divine empowerment. God was not simply reminding Paul that he had His favor. He was assuring Paul that His power would be there to sustain him through what was not being taken away.

God did not shame Paul for asking or tell him to try harder. He promised that His power would meet Paul in the place where he felt so very weak. This did not mean Paul suddenly liked the thorn or that it stopped hurting. It meant the pain was not the only thing present. The grace and power of Christ were present, too.

This is part of what it can mean when grace meets grief after child loss. God’s grace is not waiting somewhere on the other side of our grief, after we have learned all the lessons or reached a certain level of healing. He meets us while the grief is still present.

You may feel as though God is far away or be unsure of what you believe anymore. I am not asking you to force yourself to feel differently. I do not believe God is offended by your questions. He sees the trauma beneath them and knows how deeply you love and miss your child.

Grace does not ask us to call the loss good

One time, I heard someone say that God wraps trials in blessings. My immediate response was, “The death of a child is an awfully strong trial to wrap a blessing in.”

Then I heard God respond in my spirit, “I know, because My Son died, and it was wrapped in the blessing of you.”

Wow!

That did not make Becca’s death good or make me glad that she died. It did not erase my pain or answer all my questions. What it did was remind me that God understands what it is for a Son to die. It also reminded me that the cross, which was cruel and horrific, was not the end of the story. God brought redemption and life from something that was never good. And it was personal. I was the blessing? Wow!

There is a difference between saying something is good and saying God can bring good from it. The death of our child was not good. We do not have to rename it as a blessing or be thankful that it happened.

But our child’s death does not place us beyond God’s ability to redeem parts of our story. Romans 8:28 does not say all things are good. It tells us that God works in all things. He can take what was meant to destroy us and, over time, weave something meaningful into our lives without ever calling the tragedy itself good.

When grace meets grief after child loss, we are not required to celebrate the trial. We are simply given hope that suffering does not have to have the final word.

Perseverance may not look the way we expect

James writes that the testing of our faith produces perseverance. That can feel almost offensive when the trial is the death of our child, but I do not believe James is telling us to feel happy about tragedy. Perseverance is not always a brave, triumphant feeling. Sometimes it is getting out of bed, taking the next breath or whispering, “God, I do not understand You, but please do not let go of me.” Growth is slow and uneven. Feeling stronger one day and completely undone the next does not mean we are failing.

Healing does not require letting go of your child

I recently responded to an email from a grieving mother who had been told by godly people that she needed to “let her son go” so she could receive the blessings God had for her. My heart hurt for her because I do not believe letting go of our children is God’s requirement for blessing us.

That kind of statement can make a pareavor feel as though God is withholding His goodness until we grieve correctly. But Paul was not told that he had to be free from what tormented him before he could experience God’s grace. God met him right in the middle of what he was still enduring.

God does not require us to stop carrying our children in our hearts before He will meet us. We may gradually release guilt, endless what-ifs or the unrealistic expectation of others that life must return to what it was. But our child is not something we must let go of to see God’s blessings.

Grace does not ask us to leave our child behind. It helps us carry both our love and our grief as we continue to live.

Grief does not have to be the only thing present

We will be healing from this traumatic loss for the rest of our time here. That does not mean we will always hurt with the same intensity, but it does mean the death of our child has changed us permanently and will always be part of our story.

Even so, there can come a time when life has meaning and purpose again. Joy and laughter can return, and we may find ourselves caring about things we thought would never matter to us again. None of this betrays our child, and it does not happen because we finally let go of them. It happens as grief gradually becomes one part of what we carry instead of the only thing we can feel. Our love for our child remains, while purpose, joy, compassion and hope slowly begin to grow alongside it.

If you cannot see any blessing right now, or if talk about meaning and purpose feels far beyond where you are, that is okay. You do not have to search for a lesson in your child’s death or prove that you are growing. For now, hope may simply be allowing yourself to consider that what you feel today is not all you will ever feel, and that your child can remain an important part of your life as you slowly begin to live again.

When grace meets grief after child loss, grief does not disappear. Grace reminds us that grief is not the only thing we will carry forever. In the full podcast episode, I talk more about Paul’s suffering, the difficult scriptures we often hear after child loss and why receiving God’s grace does not mean letting go of our children. I invite you to listen whenever your heart is ready.

NOTE: This was partially taken from the Grieving Parents Sharing Hope podcast episode 367. Click here to listen to the full discussion, or look for the Grieving Parents Sharing Hope podcast on your favorite listening app.

Free printable guide: Rebuilding Your Life: A Gentle Guide Toward Hope and Healing After Child Loss.

If this episode stirred something in your heart, you’ll find gentle Weekly Reflection Questions waiting for you in our Patreon community.

Check out all the GPS Hope resources here.

To support this podcast and, keep it ad-free, and get exclusive content, visit us on Patreon

Download our FREE GUIDE. Rebuilding Your Life: A Gentle Guide Toward Hope and Healing After Child Loss. Discover gentle encouragement for your broken heart, practical support for the days ahead, and hope that meets you right where you are.

AWARD WINNING AUTHOR, LAURA DIEHL, has written several impactful books that provide comfort and guidance to those navigating the painful journey of child loss, after the death of her own daughter in 2011. Her most acclaimed work, When Tragedy Strikes: Rebuilding Your Life with Hope and Healing After the Death of Your Child, has received multiple accolades, including the 2017 Gold Medal Centauri Christian Book Award for Non-Fiction and a Silver Medal in the 2018 Illumination Awards. Several of her other books have won awards as well.

In addition to her writing, Laura is an ordained minister and has an extensive background in international children’s ministry. She is a sought-after speaker and singer at grief conferences and churches, known for her compassionate approach and deep understanding of the grieving process, especially the unique loss of a child. Through her weekly award-winning podcast, her writings, and other resources provided by GPS Hope, Laura and her husband, Dave, continue to provide hope and healing to thousands of parents worldwide, helping them find light in the midst of profound loss and darkness.

For more information about Laura’s award-winning books go to gpshope.org/books.
To find out more about Laura Diehl and the ministry of Grieving Parents Sharing Hope (GPS Hope) visit gpshope.org.

The link to Hope for the Future is an affiliate link, allowing part of the purchase price to go to GPS Hope. 

Have you ever started to tell someone about your child and then found yourself hesitating over the words? Your head knew the truth, that “My child died,” but you could not get those words out. So instead, you said your child passed away. Or that your child is gone. Or that you lost your child. Or maybe you said your child went to Heaven.

There are so many different ways that we talk about the death of our children. Even though all of those phrases point to the same heartbreaking reality, they do not all feel the same when we say them. For some parents, the words “my child died” are important because they are honest and direct. For others, those words are far too harsh, especially during those early weeks, months, or even years. Some parents may never feel comfortable saying them. They need words that soften what happened just enough for them to be able to speak it out loud.

Then there are phrases that bring comfort to one parent but can really bother another one. One of those is “I lost my child.” I have heard parents respond, “I did not lose my child. I know exactly where my child is.” Or, “I didn’t lose my child. He was taken from me.”

That is why I want to talk about how we talk about child loss, why we use the words we do, and why there is no right or wrong way to say something no parent should ever have to say.

A Word That Describes Who We Are

Since we are talking about the meaning words carry, I want to pause and explain one of the words you will sometimes hear me use: pareavor.

The word pareavor brings together the words parent and bereaved. Within the word bereaved is the root word reave, which means to rob, deprive, or tear away. That describes what the death of our child feels like. We are parents who have had our precious children torn away from our physical lives.

The word pareavor does not replace the fact that I am Becca’s mom. Death did not end that relationship or take away my identity as her mother. We all know there are no words that can fully describe our pain. But pareavor gives me a way to describe both truths at the same time: I am still her parent, and I am living with the devastating loss of her physical presence. 

We know there are not words strong enough to describe our pain, but pareavor is a word that unites us, in the fact that our child is no longer here with us. Not every grieving parent will choose to use this word, and that is okay. Just like the other words we are going to talk about, this is not about everyone using the same language. It is about finding words that help us express something that can be incredibly difficult to explain.

When “My Child Died” Feels Too Painful to Say

Let me begin with the most direct words: “My child died.”

Those are simple words, but there is nothing simple about saying them. When our child first dies, those words can feel impossible. Saying them can make what happened feel too real.

We may know in our minds that our child died. We may have planned a funeral or memorial service. We may have chosen a casket or an urn. We may have signed papers and made decisions no parent should ever have to make. My husband, Dave, talks about how the tears fell when he wrote the check for our daughter’s burial plot. But saying, “My child died,” can feel like forcing our heart to accept something it is still trying to protect us from.

Sometimes we can tell the story of what happened without using the word died at all. We say there was an accident. We say the cancer came back. We say there were complications. We say it was an overdose. We say the doctors did everything they could. We tell the details around the death because the actual sentence, “My child died,” is just too painful to say.

That does not mean we are in denial. It does not mean we are grieving incorrectly. It may simply mean our heart can only take in this reality a little bit at a time.

Why Softer Words Can Help Us Speak

There is a reason we sometimes call these softer expressions euphemisms. They give us another way to talk about something that feels too blunt or too painful to name directly. A phrase like “passed away” places a little bit of cushioning around the word died. It does not change what happened. It just makes it a little easier for some of us to say or even think.

And there is nothing wrong with that. We already know there is no soft way to experience the death of our child. If softer words help us speak about it, especially when we are still trying to comprehend it ourselves, we are allowed to use them.

Many people say, “My child passed away,” or simply, “My child passed.” For some, that phrase feels less harsh and less final. It can carry the sense of passing from this life into the next. For a grieving parent who believes in Heaven, the word passed may hold the reminder that death was not the end of their child’s existence.

Other parents say, “My child went to Heaven,” or “My child went home to be with the Lord.” Those words may express exactly what they believe and where they find comfort. They are not trying to avoid what happened. They are choosing to describe what happened through the lens of their faith.

I have occasionally said that Becca “graduated” to Heaven or that she was “promoted.” Those are not the words I use every time, but sometimes they help me describe her passing from this temporary life into eternity. They do not take away the painful reality that she died. They simply express my belief that death did not have the final word and that Becca is now more fully alive than I can comprehend from where I am.

Even those phrases can feel different from one parent to another, though. A person may believe with all their heart that their child is in Heaven and still have trouble hearing that their child “went home.” This was home too. Their child belonged here with them, and they were not ready for their child to go anywhere.

That is one of the things I want us to understand about how we talk about child loss. A phrase can be completely true to what we believe and still hurt when we hear it. Faith does not remove the pain from the words.

When the Same Words Feel Different to Different Parents

Some parents say, “My child is gone.” That may be the only phrase they can manage. But the word gone can also feel painfully final. It can sound as though the child no longer exists, when what the parent means is that their child is no longer physically here.

Others may say, “My child left this earth,” or “My child is no longer here with us.” Some say their child “transitioned” or “crossed over.” There are parents who speak of their child receiving their wings. There are also parents who strongly dislike that phrase because it does not fit their beliefs about Heaven. Again, a phrase that brings tenderness and comfort to one person may make someone else pull back.

Some of us say our child was taken from us. That language can express how sudden, violent, or unjust the death feels. We did not willingly give up our child. Their life with us was taken, along with the future we expected to have together.

However, another parent may struggle deeply with the idea that God took their child. If we hear someone say, “My child was taken from me,” we do not need to correct their theology or explain what we think they should mean, including comments on places like Facebook. We can listen for the pain underneath the words.

People around us also need to be very careful about telling a grieving parent that God needed their child, wanted another angel, or chose to take their child for some greater purpose. Even when someone intends those words to bring comfort, they can add another layer of pain or even anger.

I remember hearing that God wanted another angel and letting people know that is not scriptural at all. God does not have some angel roster He is trying to fill, so He “took” our kids to help fill it!

What I Mean When I Say, “I Lost My Child”

Then there is the phrase that started me thinking more deeply about how we talk about child loss: “I lost my child.”

Some grieving parents get very upset when they hear child loss described that way. They may say, “My child is not lost. I did not misplace them, they were taken from me, and I know exactly where they are.” I understand and respect that reaction.

When I talk about losing our children or use the phrase child loss, I am not suggesting that our children have been misplaced. I am not saying we do not know where they are. And I am certainly not saying they are lost to God. I am talking about the enormous loss we live with because they died.

We have lost their physical presence in our lives. We have lost the sound of their voice in the next room and the ability to reach out and touch them. We have lost the everyday conversations, the hugs, the laughter, and even the little things that used to annoy us. We have lost the opportunity to make new memories with them here.

We have also lost the future we expected to share with them. Depending on our child’s age, that may include graduations, weddings, grandchildren, family vacations, holidays, phone calls, and growing older together. It includes all the ordinary moments we never imagined would be taken away.

Our children are not lost. But we have experienced a devastating loss.

That is what I mean when I use the words “losing a child.” I am describing what death has taken from us, not where our children are.

At the same time, if the word lost does not feel right to you, you do not have to use it. You may prefer to say, “My child died.” You may say your child passed away, went to Heaven, or is no longer physically here. You get to choose the words that fit your heart, your beliefs, and your relationship with your child.

Our Words May Change Over Time

How we talk about child loss may also change over time. A parent may only be able to say “passed away” in the beginning and later find that “died” feels more honest. Someone else may use the word died at first because they need to say the hard truth plainly, but later prefer to say their child went to Heaven because that is where their heart has found comfort.

Sometimes the words change depending on who we are talking to. We may use one phrase with another grieving parent, another phrase with a stranger, and something different with our family. We may say our child’s name and tell the fuller story when we feel safe. In a brief conversation, we may simply say, “My daughter is in Heaven,” or “My son passed away.”

And sometimes we may not want to say anything at all. We do not owe everyone the details of our child’s death. We do not have to use the most direct language just because someone else believes it is healthier. There may be times when saying the words helps us, and there may be times when those same words knock the breath out of us.

This is not a test of whether we have accepted what happened. It is not a measure of how far along we are in grief. Grief does not work that way.

The Words We Choose and the Words Others Use

I also think there is an important difference between the words we choose for ourselves and the words someone else chooses for us.

I may say, “I lost my daughter,” because that expresses the loss I live with. But if someone responds by casually saying, “When you lost your daughter…” it may land differently. A parent may say, “My child went to Heaven,” but feel hurt or even angry when someone else says, “At least your child is in a better place.” We may find ourselves thinking, “You do not have the right to tell me that.”

I tell people that if they are going to start with the words “At least,” then just do not bother saying it. We are allowed to speak from our faith, but that does not give others permission to use faith language to hurry past our pain or theirs.

The same is true of the word died. Some parents appreciate direct language because it acknowledges the magnitude of what happened. They do not want people to dance around it as though the truth is too uncomfortable to say. Other parents hear that word and feel as though it cuts straight through them.

So how do we know what to say to another grieving parent? We listen.

Pay attention to the words they use and follow their lead. If they say their child died, it is usually okay to use that wording. If they say their child passed away, use passed away. If they say their child is in Heaven, honor that. Whenever possible, use the child’s name, because our children are so much more than the way they died.

If someone uses a phrase that hurts, you are allowed to tell them. You can say, “I know you mean well, but I have a hard time with that phrase. I prefer to say…” and then give them the words that feel right to you.

You do not have to be upset with another grieving parent whose language is different from yours. And you do not have to surrender the words that are meaningful to you because they are not meaningful to someone else. There is room for both.

We Can Speak of Both Grief and Hope

I can say that Becca died. I can also say that she is in Heaven. One statement names the painful reality of what happened here. The other speaks to the hope I hold because of my faith. Those truths do not cancel each other out.

Becca died, and I miss her physical presence every single day. I believe she is with Jesus, and I look forward to seeing her again. My hope of Heaven does not make her death less devastating, and the devastation of her death does not take away my hope of Heaven.

Sometimes we think we have to choose between honest grief and faithful language, but we do not. We can say death is horrible and still believe death is not the end. We can say our child is in Heaven and still ache because our child is not here. We can know where our child is and still grieve everything we have lost.

Use the Words That Feel Honest and Bearable

Maybe you have judged yourself for the words you use. Perhaps you think you should be able to say, “My child died,” by now, but you still cannot. Please be gentle with yourself. There is no deadline for saying those words.

Maybe the opposite is true. You need to say died because softer phrases feel as though they minimize what happened. You are allowed to say it plainly.

Maybe you say, “I lost my child,” because no other phrase comes close to describing the emptiness and all that was taken from your life. You do not need to stop using that phrase because another person understands the word lost differently.

Or perhaps you cannot bear the word lost because your child is not lost to you. You know where they are, and you need your language to reflect that. That is okay too.

There is no perfect phrase that can carry the weight of a child’s death. No matter which words we choose, they will always feel too small for something this enormous. The important thing is not whether we say died, passed away, gone, lost, taken, transitioned, or went to Heaven. The important thing is that we are given the freedom to talk about our child in the way that feels most honest and bearable to us.

Sometimes what feels bearable today will not be what feels bearable tomorrow. We are allowed to change our words. We are allowed to pause when they will not come. We are allowed to say our child’s name without explaining anything else. We are allowed to tell the entire story, and we are allowed to say only one sentence.

Please Do Not Be Afraid to Say Their Name

If you are supporting a grieving parent, you do not need to search for the best phrase. Listen to how they speak about their child. Let them teach you the language of their grief. Do not correct them, soften their words for your own comfort, or push them to be more direct than they are ready to be.

And please do not be afraid to say our child’s name. Saying the name does not remind us that our child died. We have not forgotten. Hearing the name reminds us that our child lived, that they are loved, and that they still matter.

For those of us who are grieving parents, I hope we can offer that same grace to one another. We share the heartbreak of having a child who died, but we do not all experience or describe that heartbreak in the same way. Our words are shaped by our personalities, our beliefs, the circumstances of our child’s death and where we are in our grief.

One parent’s comforting phrase may be another parent’s painful phrase. That does not make either parent wrong.

How we talk about child loss is our attempt to put words around something our hearts still struggle to comprehend, much less explain to someone else. There is no perfect way to do that.

So, use the words that help you speak the unspeakable. If “passed away” gives your heart the small amount of protection it needs, use it. If saying “died” helps you feel that the truth of your loss is being acknowledged, say it.

Give yourself permission to use the words you need. And give other grieving parents permission to do the same.

NOTE: This was partially taken from the Grieving Parents Sharing Hope podcast episode 365. Click here to listen to the full discussion, or look for the Grieving Parents Sharing Hope podcast on your favorite listening app.

Find out more about The GPS Hope Grief Cruise in October, 2027.

GPS Hope & Healing retreat, October 16-18, in Sarasota, FL

Free printable guide: Rebuilding Your Life: A Gentle Guide Toward Hope and Healing After Child Loss.

Check out all the GPS Hope resources here.

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Download our FREE GUIDE. Rebuilding Your Life: A Gentle Guide Toward Hope and Healing After Child Loss. Discover gentle encouragement for your broken heart, practical support for the days ahead, and hope that meets you right where you are.

AWARD WINNING AUTHOR, LAURA DIEHL, has written several impactful books that provide comfort and guidance to those navigating the painful journey of child loss, after the death of her own daughter in 2011. Her most acclaimed work, When Tragedy Strikes: Rebuilding Your Life with Hope and Healing After the Death of Your Child, has received multiple accolades, including the 2017 Gold Medal Centauri Christian Book Award for Non-Fiction and a Silver Medal in the 2018 Illumination Awards. Several of her other books have won awards as well.

In addition to her writing, Laura is an ordained minister and has an extensive background in international children’s ministry. She is a sought-after speaker and singer at grief conferences and churches, known for her compassionate approach and deep understanding of the grieving process, especially the unique loss of a child. Through her weekly award-winning podcast, her writings, and other resources provided by GPS Hope, Laura and her husband, Dave, continue to provide hope and healing to thousands of parents worldwide, helping them find light in the midst of profound loss and darkness.

For more information about Laura’s award-winning books go to gpshope.org/books.
To find out more about Laura Diehl and the ministry of Grieving Parents Sharing Hope (GPS Hope) visit gpshope.org.

The link to Hope for the Future is an affiliate link, allowing part of the purchase price to go to GPS Hope.