Heartfelt Healing: Amanda's Grief Blog

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Heartfelt Healing: Amanda's Grief Blog

Welcome to the inside of my brain.

I've decided to share my raw and emotional journey through the depths of grief with the world. Why? Because navigating grief is awful, and in my experience, healing comes from sharing heartfelt stories, connecting with other people who understand, and from having grief acknowledged and witnessed by others.

If you are reading this and you have lost someone close to you, I am so sorry for your loss. I wish you comfort amid the discomfort.

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The Grief Under the Cupcakes: Happy Birthday, Mom

- August 12, 2026

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Mom’s Memory & Dad’s Presence

- July 21, 2026

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150 Posts Later

- July 08, 2026

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Ask the Questions

- July 07, 2026

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The Version of Me She Never Met

- July 06, 2026

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It Started with a Grapefruit

- July 03, 2026

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The Reassurance You Didn’t Even Have to Ask For

- June 30, 2026

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Amanda Adams

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Popular Posts

Dear Amanda, Love Mom

A year ago, approaching the anniversary of my Mom's passing, I found myself struggling with a recurring dream. In the dream, Mom would lovingly snuggle my brother and me on the couch and say “OK, here’s everything you need to know about life without me…” And then the dream would end and I’d wake up in a jolt. I was upset and desperate for answers... there was so much left unknown. The brief period between my mom's diagnosis and her passing meant we never broached the topic of her potential death, and I was so unsure of what she might have said to me, if she had known. The dream persisted for weeks, even months, prompting me to bring it up in counselling. When my counsellor asked what I believed my mom would say to me in that moment (at this point, it was around 1 year after her passing), I found myself at a loss for words. However, later that week, I fixed myself a bubble bath, grabbed a pen and paper, and I started writing. I embraced all of what I knew about my mom and what s...

"Put Your Mask On First" - The Analogy of Self-Compassion

When we fly, one of the first things we hear is the safety instruction to “put on your own oxygen mask before helping others.” It’s pretty straightforward - keep yourself breathing so you're actually able to help someone else. But the meaning goes deeper than just in-flight safety. I think it's a pretty powerful analogy for self-care and self-compassion in everyday life, especially when we're grieving. Lately, I've been thinking a lot about self-compassion. I realized that knowing what "putting your mask on first" actually means can be tricky because it's not always natural to notice when we need compassion. Showing kindness to others feels easy compared to being kind to ourselves. I recently read "The Mindful Path to Self-Compassion" by Christopher Germer, and right on the first page, he asks, “Why is it so hard to extend the same kindness to ourselves that many of us gladly offer to others?” Great question, right? He follows up by saying, ...

Dear Charlee, Love Mom

Dear Charlee, When we chose your name, I knew I wanted your Gramma's name to be part of it, while still allowing your name to be uniquely yours. And I love the way we managed to get her whole name, spelled exactly as she wrote it, to live inside yours. I got your health card in the mail this week, and it felt like a big milestone... something that made everything about you official. And when I opened it, my eyes immediately saw LEE ANN first. Once I saw it, I couldn't unsee it. It was the first time I had seen your name spelled out in official documents. And there she was. Right there in you. A reminder that she is forever part of your story. You and Gramma also share a birth month, which feels very special. You were born only 15 days (and 61 years) apart. I originally thought it would be really neat if you shared the same birthday as her, and it would have been (if it happened). But, in the end I’m glad we have two separate days to celebrate. Yours just for you, and hers as a ...

Holding My Daughter, Missing My Mother

My sweet Charlee Ann is 12 days old today, which means that I’ve been a mom for 12 whole days. 12 long, messy, mistake-filled, beautiful, tiring, loving days. And 12 days I’ve missed my mom more than ever before. I have taken a giant leap into parenthood and I wish more than ever that Mom was here to catch me. I wish I had her to turn to when Charlee wouldn’t take a bottle because she needed to burp and I didn’t know it. I wish she was here to show me how to swaddle her in a blanket. I wish I could ask her questions about breastfeeding. I wish she was here to go shopping with me for extra newborn-sized clothing. I wish I could consult her when I make mistakes, and to have her reassure me through them. Sometimes the weight of missing Mom feels heavier than Charlee in my tired arms. I look down at my wrist cradling this tiny, beautiful life, and there it is… my tattoo of an anchor, with a small infinity heart with Mom’s handwriting of “Mom” inside of it. I go...

January 13: Choosing Healing on the Hardest Day

It's the middle of the night, between January 12th and January 13th, and it was at this exact time, 4 years ago, that my grief truly began. I was texting with my mom who was in the ER trying to learn why she suddenly couldn't catch her breath during continuous fits of coughing. With every text update, my worry grew. I woke up my husband in the middle of the night out of fear when my mom told me she had fluid in her lungs. I even said in a panic, "what if it's cancer!?" And although he tried to tell me not to jump to an extreme like that, I knew enough about the body and the medical world to know that fluid needing to be drained from her lungs wasn't good. And it was only a few short hours and barely any sleep later that my mom broke the news to me... Tumours. Lots of them. In both lungs. And yes... cancer. January 13th is mom's (unofficial) diagnosis day. And it's a day stuck in my memory that's as painful as the day she died. It was the day my who...

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