Losing a Child: Always Andy's Mom
This episode of Always Andy’s Mom is a replay of a Christmas Memories Livestream—created as a place of reflection, remembrance, and gentle presence during the holiday season. In this episode, Gwen and I read Christmas memories shared by parents from around the world within the Always Andy’s Mom community. These stories speak to the deep love that remains after loss and the complicated emotions that often surface during Christmas—joy intertwined with longing, tradition mingled with grief. Together, we paused often. We spoke children’s names. We honored moments both ordinary and...
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In this episode of the Always Andy’s Mom Podcast, host Marie Crews speaks with Lisa Oris, founder of Grief Guide, about why grief is not linear and why loss cannot be reduced to stages, stories, or a tidy “journey.” Lisa shares a powerful metaphor for grief — how loss “blows up the dresser,” leaving emotions scattered and overlapping rather than neatly contained. Together, they explore the harm caused by cultural expectations to be strong, move on, or turn grief into a success story. This episode is for bereaved parents and grieving mothers who feel overwhelmed, unfinished, or...
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Today’s conversation with Drew’s Momma, Melissa, is one that lingers long after the episode ends. She lost her vibrant, adventurous son Drew twenty-five years ago, and in the decades since, she has come to understand her relationship with grief in a way that feels both gentle and profoundly true. She says grief has not been a journey for her. Not something linear. Not something with a clear beginning or an end. Instead, grief has become a dance. A dance that ebbs and flows. A dance with rhythms she didn’t recognize at first. A dance that asks us to draw close, then step back, then learn...
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When Mika’s 13-year-old son, Pike, was diagnosed with leukemia, she was devastated — but not in the way most people might imagine. Only a year earlier, Mika herself had been diagnosed with an extremely aggressive form of lymphoma. After rounds of chemotherapy and a stem cell transplant, she fought her way back to being cancer-free. She thought their family’s battle with cancer was finally over. And then her youngest son received his diagnosis, and they had to start fighting all over again. Despite the setback, Mika carried a fierce belief that if she could beat cancer, then Pike would...
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Shortly after Leigh’s 22-year-old son, Josh, was killed in a plane crash, her best friend looked her straight in the eyes and said some of the most beautiful words a bereaved mother can ever hear: “Your grief doesn’t scare me.” When she told me that during this week’s podcast interview, it took my breath away. As a grieving parent myself, I remember how often my grief did seem to scare people. I saw the uncomfortable glances from across the room. I heard the mumbled apologies when someone said something that “made” me cry. It was as if my tears were a burden they didn’t quite...
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“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...
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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...
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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...
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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...
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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_outlineI have often said that different people grieve differently. Today's guest, Lori, adds a new twist to that statement. She lost two of her four sons almost 30 years apart from each other, and she is grieving so much differently now than she did the first time around, showing that the same person can grieve similar losses differently as well.
The stories of Michael and Logan's deaths are far different. Michael died at age 2 of an aggressive type of cancer called neuroblastoma. He died after 9 months of treatment in his mother's arms at the hospital, which she says gave her time to say goodbye, but also forced her to watch him endure pain and suffering. Twenty-five-year-old Logan, on the other hand, died suddenly from an accidental drug overdose in his apartment. Logan was there one day and gone the next.
Lori says that after losing Michael, she became an extremely compassionate person. She and her husband turned to each other for support. Loris describes him as her rock. She was very involved in church, turning to her faith to help ease the intense pain of loss. Over the years, Lori says that her biggest fear was that she might lose another one of her three remaining boys, but despite Logan's long history of mental health struggles, she did not ever think this would happen to them again.
Then, 18 months ago, the unimaginable occurred - Logan died, too. After Michael died, compassion emerged. This time, however, fear and anger are the dominant emotions. She has trouble going out in public. Lori hasn't gone to church, and her faith feels broken. Her relationship with her husband has been damaged, and she has moved in with her two living sons, who are now her two rocks. Online support groups and podcasts have become her coping strategies.
These vastly different responses may seem surprising. I know they were unexpected to Lori, but there is a lesson here.
Grace. We need to give others and ourselves grace. We cannot control our feelings or our responses to grief. We need to feel our emotions, whatever they may be, and work through them. Through hard work, hope for the future may come again, for Lori and for us.