Episode: 323: Quinten's Mom
Losing a Child: Always Andy's Mom
“Now What?” This is the question Marie found herself asking after the devastating loss of her son, Quinten, to suicide. Overcome with grief, she felt lost and unsure how to move forward. But instead of succumbing to despair, Marie made a conscious decision: her life would continue. She chose to ask herself, "Now what?" and began to take small, intentional steps toward healing. Through the darkest days, she trusted that there was a way forward, even when the road ahead seemed impossible to navigate. In today’s episode, Marie opens up about her raw, unfiltered journey through grief. She...
info_outline
Episode 322: Quincy's Dad
Losing a Child: Always Andy's Mom
Today's guest, Jonathon’s book, , captured me from the first page—a work that feels both intimate and universal. Indigo, the hue between blue and violet, appears in rainbows and twilight skies, yet it rarely gets named. Likewise, grief lingers in daily life, hovering just out of sight, unspoken because its rawness makes many uneasy. Jonathon uses the color as a quiet metaphor for sorrow that colors our existence without ever dominating the palette. A decade ago, Jonathon’s world shattered when his eldest daughter, Quincy, died in a sudden car accident. As a pastor, the loss forced him to...
info_outline
Episode 321: The Many Emotions of Grief
Losing a Child: Always Andy's Mom
During one of the first grief‑support group sessions that Eric and I attended in the weeks after Andy died, our facilitators led us in an exercise. We were given a black‑and‑white copy of an image created by H. Norman Wright titled “Grief – A Tangled Ball of Emotions.” The picture resembled a ball of yarn, but instead of yarn strands, it had strips winding around the sphere, each labeled with a different emotion. The exercise was simple. We received crayons and were asked to color in any stripe that represented an emotion we had felt during that week. I remember starting at...
info_outline
Episode 320: Jr.'s Mom
Losing a Child: Always Andy's Mom
Today's guest, Stephanie, says that her son, Jr., had a lifelong mantra that he lived by - ‘me versus me.’ He even had this phrase tattooed on himself for his 18th birthday. Rather than measuring himself against anyone else, he aimed each day to outdo the person he had been yesterday. A year ago, Jr. was a senior in high school, preparing to enlist in the Marine Corps. He was an avid athlete as a cross‑country runner, weightlifter, and participant in several team sports. That autumn, he trained for a half‑marathon, hoping to break the two‑hour barrier. The whole family was at...
info_outline
Episode 319: Libby's Mum
Losing a Child: Always Andy's Mom
Today's guest, Lisa, says she has always felt a special, spiritual link to her eldest daughter, Libby—starting when Libby was an infant and lasting throughout her life. One night, Lisa complained to her husband about a throbbing thumb. The next morning, Libby called, saying she had hurt her thumb and thought it was broken. When Libby’s father asked if the injury happened around 9 pm, Libby confirmed the time of the injury, but she was puzzled until he answered, “Your mother felt that.” Despite being over 200 miles away and unaware of any injury, Lisa sensed Libby’s broken...
info_outline
Episode 318: Jenny & Jesse's Mom
Losing a Child: Always Andy's Mom
Jerry’s passion is helping bereaved children. When I was first introduced to her, Jerry was described as a widowed mother with a heart for grieving kids. She’d written a fictional tale for late‑elementary and middle‑school readers about a ten‑year‑old girl coping with her father’s death. The story follows Joy’s grief journey, letting parents buy a companion workbook so children can record their own feelings while reading. I booked Jerry for the show because listeners frequently ask how parents can support grieving children. I didn’t realize her personal loss mirrored our own...
info_outline
Episode 317: Chloe & Lily's Dad
Losing a Child: Always Andy's Mom
Eight minutes. That is how long it took for Michael's life to be forever changed. In late November 2016, a fire broke out in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Unbeknownst to Michael, the winds picked up while he was driving with his oldest son, and the fires swept toward the family home. Michael is haunted by nightmares of his frantic drive back through the fires, trying to get back home. By the time he arrived, the fire had taken the lives of his daughters, Chloe and Lily, as well as his wife, Constance. In the months after the fires, as Michael struggled to sleep, he would write about...
info_outline
Episode 316: Chasey's Momma
Losing a Child: Always Andy's Mom
He should be here. Today's guest, Lindsay, says that these are the four most impactful words that have been said to her in the year since her 6-month-old son, Chase, died from bacterial meningitis. These words don't try to cheer her up or remind her of some grand plan. They simply acknowledge the wrongness of the whole situation. Lindsay's family no longer feels complete without Chase. Smiling 'Chasey' should be tagging along, trying to keep up with his big brother, Jack. Chase should be here. From the time her two boys were tiny babies, Lindsay would read to them. She loved reading board...
info_outline
Episode 315: Jacob's Mom
Losing a Child: Always Andy's Mom
I feel like God arranges for certain guests to come on the podcast just when I need them most. On the day of this interview, I was particularly weepy, missing Andy even more than I normally do. I think God knew I needed someone to cry with, and Nancy was that someone. Nancy calls her son, Jacob, her Buddha baby, weighing 11 pounds 3 ounces at birth. The bib that they brought with them to the hospital would not even fit around his neck. However, that was not the only reason Jacob was called her Buddha Baby. Even as an infant, Jacob seemed to be a calming presence to everyone around him. ...
info_outline
Episode 314: Laughter & Grief
Losing a Child: Always Andy's Mom
Grief and Laughter. At first glance, it may seem like these words could be considered polar opposites, but as we grieve, moments of laughter and joy can be a balm for the soul. The intense pain of grief oftentimes feels overwhelming. It is deep and dark, and it can feel like it will go on forever. I remember the first time that I laughed after Andy died. I felt tremendous guilt. Andy was dead. I felt like I should never laugh again. I should be sad every moment of every day. But that is not how we were made. We were created to be beings that felt joy and happiness. My mind wouldn't let me stay...
info_outlineWhen you go to Karla's website, karlahelbert.com, you will see these words - 'We all need a little help sometimes. You are not alone.' You might look and think, "Karla, I need more than a little help. My child died. I am a mess." However, Karla understands. Karla knows the mess because she lives the mess. Karla has lived with grief every day for almost 18 years when her son, Theo, died at 9 months from a brain tumor.
You may notice this interview is longer than most. I honestly think I could have talked to Karla for 3 hours and not even batted an eye. Her outlook is refreshingly honest, and talking to her just made me feel better about my grief and life. When talking to Karla about her journey, she openly says that for the first three years, she would find herself on the floor crying every single day. She said that she would think, "How is this not killing me?" And then, after no more tears would come, she would get up. "It's amazing," Karla says, "that somehow we do not die from the grief."
I have to say I've never really thought of grief like that, but Karla is right. It is 'amazing' that it does not kill us. In those first days, months, and even years of grief, I often felt like the pain was too much to bear. I couldn't even begin to count the number of times I thought to myself, 'I can't do this anymore.' Then, somehow, I would get through another day, then another month, and eventually, another year. It is amazing.
If you keep yourself open, even more amazing things can happen as well. After Theo died, Karla never would have guessed what she would become. Karla went back to her job counseling kids with autism at school, but small opportunities kept coming and ever so slowly her life changed to what it is today. Now, Karla is a therapist working almost exclusively with people who have experienced traumatic grief, has published multiple books, and even has a new virtual workshop for bereaved parents starting next week. Amazing.
Thank you, Karla, for all you do and for reminding me that a little help can make us feel less alone on this excruciating, messy, but nonetheless amazing, grief journey.