When you Lose a Parent

Losing a parent feels like the ground beneath you has cracked open, leaving you standing on shaky, unfamiliar terrain. No matter how old you are, no matter how prepared you think you might be, nothing can brace you for the void they leave behind.

It’s not just their absence you grieve—it’s the weight of their presence that’s suddenly gone. It’s realizing they were the keeper of your childhood, holding onto pieces of your story that only they knew. They were the ones who could recount how you giggled as a baby, how you stumbled through your first words, or the way your face lit up when you discovered something new. Now, those stories exist only in fragments, and you find yourself clinging to the ones you can still remember.

It’s everything they did that you never fully noticed until it was gone. The way they made your world run smoothly without you even realizing it—packing lunches, sitting through endless recitals and games, cheering louder than anyone at your graduations. The quiet sacrifices, the long days they worked, the nights they stayed up with you when you were sick or scared. They made a million little decisions every day that said, You matter.

And in adulthood, they were still there. The steady presence you called when you needed advice, the ones who would drop everything to help, whether it was fixing a leaky sink, watching your kids, or simply reminding you that you were never alone. They were the ones who showed up, no matter what, and now their absence feels like a gaping hole in the fabric of your life.

When a parent is gone, the world feels less steady, less safe. They were the one who loved you unconditionally, who saw you at your messiest, your most broken, and still believed you were enough. They were your biggest cheerleader, the one who rooted for you when no one else did. And now, there’s a silence where their encouragement used to be.

It’s the little things that hit the hardest. The urge to call them when something good happens. The recipe you wish you’d asked for. The holidays that feel too quiet without them. The realization that they won’t be there for the next chapter of your life—or to see the person you’re still becoming.

Grief doesn’t ask for permission, and it doesn’t have an end date. It stays with you, but it changes you. It softens you in some places, strengthens you in others. It teaches you to cherish the things you once took for granted and to hold onto the memories and moments they left behind.

If you’ve lost a parent, you know this ache. It’s not something you move on from—it’s something you carry. And though the weight of their absence will always be there, so too will the love they gave you, shaping the person you are and the life you continue to build.