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 too. He was younger, stronger, and full of energy. He had his whole life waiting for him. She was convinced that God would make sure Pike survived — that His plan surely included a long, full life for her son.

And in so many ways, Pike himself embodied that hope. He took pride in the strength he showed during his cancer journey. He had conversations with his pastor about sharing his story to bring others to Christ. And when the family held a stem-cell drive through Earl Young's Team, the part that thrilled Pike wasn't finding a match for himself. What excited him most was the idea that his drive might save hundreds of other people who desperately needed stem cells to survive their own battles.

But just as they thought his hardest days were behind him, Pike was re-hospitalized with graft-versus-host disease. He was sent to the OR for what was meant to be a quick biopsy of lesions in his lungs. Instead, he experienced sudden bleeding and left the operating room on life support. Pike never regained consciousness.

Mika and her family were shattered. Pike wasn't supposed to die. Even in the midst of cancer, Mika said she never once believed her son's story would end this way.

Yet even in the heartbreak of losing Pike 18 months ago, Mika continues to honor her son's heart for helping others. She organizes ongoing stem cell drives in Pike's memory — carrying forward the mission he cared about so deeply. Each drive is a way to give another family the miracle Pike hoped to offer, and a way to ensure that Pike's compassion, courage, and faith continue to touch lives long after his own battle ended.

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 know how to hold.

And the truth is… my grief scared me, too.

There were days I collapsed to the floor, sobbing so hard I feared I would never stop. Moments when the pain felt so big, so consuming, that I wondered if it might swallow me whole. Grief can feel like that—wild, unpredictable, and utterly overwhelming.

Fifteen months into her own grief journey, these are the same emotions Leigh continues to navigate day by day. As she shared her story, I could feel both the depth of her love for Josh and the weight she carries in his absence. She spoke with such honesty about the moments when she still reaches for her phone, waiting for his daily phone call. And each day, she lights a candle for Josh, a simple yet sacred ritual that keeps his presence in the home.

But here's a lesson I've learned—for myself and for anyone walking this path—slowly and painfully, and with more tenderness than I ever thought possible:

Grief may shake us, but it does not destroy us.

We survive what once felt unsurvivable.
Bit by bit, breath by breath, we learn to carry the weight.
And somewhere along the way, light begins to seep back in—not because the grief is gone, but because we've grown strong enough to hold both love and loss at the same time.

If you're grieving today, I want you to know this:

Your grief doesn't scare me.
And even if you can't feel it right now, there is hope ahead.
Not a return to who you were, but a gentle becoming of who you're learning to be.

You're not alone.

"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 shares how she found the strength to rebuild her life, one step at a time, and how perseverance, self-reflection, and compassion helped her move through the pain. She also discusses the work she's currently doing—helping other bereaved mothers find healing through writing. Through her coaching and retreats, Marie empowers others to turn their pain into purpose, fostering deep connection, healing, and self-discovery. Writing became a tool not just for her, but one that she now shares to help others begin their own healing journeys.

As I listened to Marie's story, I couldn't help but think back to my own experience after losing Andy. I, too, felt lost and alone and wondered how life could continue without him. Marie's words reminded me that healing doesn't come all at once—it begins with small, tender moments of courage.

Hope and healing can feel distant and elusive after loss, but writing can become a lifeline to help process grief and rediscover a sense of purpose. For anyone struggling with the question "Now what?", writing can be a powerful tool. By sharing our stories and embracing the process of healing, we find the strength to move forward—one word at a time. Marie's journey and her work with bereaved moms show us that even in our darkest hours, healing is possible when we allow ourselves to be open to the process of renewal.

* Visit Marie at mariecrews.com to learn more about her coaching, retreats, and how writing can support your healing journey.