A Moment

It happens at least once a day.

There is a moment.

The Beatles play on the radio.

My red paper cup from Starbucks reminds me that Christmas is coming.

The girls do something new and you aren’t here to see it.

Someone mentions their dad, a dad, says the word “dad”.

There is a moment every day.

My breath catches in my throat.

My heart stops.

There is a moment every day when I realize that you are gone, and my heart breaks all over again.


I don’t know how to talk about it.

When someone asks me how I am, I tell them I’m fine.

What else am I supposed to say?

How do I talk about the wound in my soul?

How do I express how deeply I miss you without breaking down completely?

It’s impossible.

In those moments.

When I realize I will never see you again.

The grief feels insurmountable.


It happens at least once a day.

There is a moment.

Just a moment when the world stops turning, and all I can do is miss you.


  1. There aren’t sufficient words, so I’ll just say, I’m so sorry. I think of you often. *hugs*

  2. HUGS, and thank you for writing about this. It’s easy for the rest of the world to offer platitudes and move on, and they/we sometimes need a reminder that the pain and grief don’t just vanish. I hope you and your family are able to experience some peace and joy these holidays.

  3. TwinMamaTeb says:

    Share these moments with the girls. I had one tonight. Something as simple as making brussel sprouts- “You know your poppop used to grow these in his garden. He taught mamma the trick of waiting to pick them till after the first frost”.

    It helps take the sting away 🙁

  4. I share my memories of my mother often, with Jen (who loved her dearly,) my friends, etc. It does help. Every so often, a song will come on that will make me think of her. The worst part is, I don’t know how she passed. No one witnessed her passing and there was no reason FOR her passing. I worry about what happened, and how she felt during that time. I know this is probably going to be your most morbid comment, but… yeah. It does help to talk about.

  5. Aw honey, I wish there was something I could do or say that would help. If that thing exists, I don’t know what it is. Sending lots of hugs your way.


  6. Oh friend. I wish I could take some of your pain away. Or at least give you a hug.

  7. *hugs* I don’t know what to say… except that I understand. I haven’t been there, but I understand, and I think you are incredibly brave and strong. Keeping you in my prayers!

  8. I’m sorry. I wish the pain wasn’t so raw. Big hugs to you.

  9. Sending hugs and love to you.

  10. I know there are no words to make this any better. I can only tell you that I would feel completely the same way and that I am very scared of one day losing my Dad.

  11. Nothing to say other than hugs and I’m here for you. <3

  12. Big hugs to you. It gets easier with time. And no matter how much other people want to understand, they can’t. And that’s OK. You don’t have to explain it. XO

  13. Beautiful post, Erin. Sending you hugs and love. xo

  14. This was beautiful and heart-wrenching, Erin.

    I understand this emotion all too well, even if I have a totally different situation from you.


  15. Beautiful post. I know you are writing about your dad, but I feel like this about my son. Amazing how grief is so similar, even if all the details are different.

    I am so sorry, friend. I hope it starts to get easier.

    Also, I think it’s okay to tell people when they ask how you’re doing. Tell them you miss your dad. It’s okay if you cry.

  16. This is such a beautiful post, Erin. Sending you love and hugs.

  17. When someone asks, you should hand them this beautiful piece of writing. It really does say it all. Thinking of you…

  18. Hugs. Thinking of you.

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