I Admire You

If you’ve been through hard things,

I admire you.

If part of those things include loss,

I admire you.

If you’ve had moments you can’t quite get words around,

I admire you.

If you’ve stepped up to help a friend during their bumpy days,

I admire you.

If you’ve been through a super sudden loss then spent weeks or months trying to make sense of it,

I admire you.

If you’ve ever stared at approaching holidays in advance, knowing how hard they’d be,

I admire you.

If you’ve ever survived a Mother’s Day or Father’s Day without one,

I admire you.

If you’ve been on the receiving end of “I’m sorry for your loss,”

I admire you.

If you’ve shown up for a friend in loss,

I admire you.

If you took them a plant, a wind chime, a meal, or sent a card,

I admire you.

If you’ve asked someone what happened, then stood there listening while words and tears trickled out,

I admire you.

If you’ve ever driven 5 minutes or 5 hours on some random Tuesday to show your support to someone,

I admire you.

If you understand the intensity of loss but have never even talked about it,

I admire you.

If you’ve talked to your kiddos about how much someone loved them,

I admire you.

If you read something that tells you to forget the past but you say, ‘no way!’

I admire you.

If you’re reading this and it makes absolutely zero sense,

I admire you.

If you’re reading this and your cheeks are wet with tears,

I admire you.

If you can relate to this post in any way, shape or form,

I admire you.

If loss to you means a breakup, a friendship is ending, or that someone gained their heavenly wings,

I admire you.

Loss can mean different things to many. Wherever you are in yours,

I admire you.



©️ 2023 Unmeasured Journeys

©️ 2023 Jessica Adam

On Vulnerability

Nine Christmas Eve’s ago, my cousin’s mom suddenly passed away, leaving us all shocked and devastated. In the nine years since, I have paid attention to how she has navigated the loss of her beloved momma.

Although I didn’t quite understand her loss, I tried to be there for her. One thing that I noticed was that she didn’t stuff the loss down to deal with it later. In my eyes, she bravely stepped right into the loss of “holy sh*t, I’ve lost my mom, what am I going to do?”

I don’t know about you, but when a friend or relative loses their mom/ parent, I pay attention. There are lessons that live in someone else’s experiences. I hadn’t been IN her shoes, but when she talked about her days that came with her loss, I listened.

I still do.

A couple weeks ago, she said something monumental to me. It was about her view of grief. She’s nine years in, to mom loss.

I’m nine months in.

Her words were soothing and healing, instantly.


I’ve tried to write about it for two weeks. I’ve typed, backspaced, typed, backspaced. Words jumbled up. Couldn’t get them out in the way that I wanted.


Well, not everyone understands the roads we are on.

Some do. But, everyone?

No, not really.

Writing about loss and vulnerability is sooooooooooo hard. It’s somewhat edgy. Talk about it a little and it’s acceptable. Talk about it a lot and it’s ‘you’re grieving too much.’

Vulnerability is like a coat that nobody wants to put on. A hundred and fifty degrees below zero and there’s a coat of vulnerability laying there? Forget it, I’ll freeze.

With vulnerabilities come shame. Being nine months into mom/parent loss, I can see why people don’t talk about losses.

Grief isn’t discussed much. Sure, people throw out lines of “take your time”, “everyone grieves in their own way”, “deal with it however you need to’ while at the same moment, there seems to be an invisible time limit on when someone’s grief is enough and they should just move on or that there’s some particular way to get through it.

Twice this week, I’ve felt judged about my mom loss. That I’m not doing it right or I’m taking too long. If I just move on, my holidays won’t be hard.

Grief with stipulations…

Writing about the last nine months has been a gift, a privilege, and a heartache all at once. I write because I know that I am not the only one dealing with loss.

My hope is that if someone somewhere reads my words, that maybe they’ll find a smidgen of comfort or something that makes them feel a tiny bit better.

You know?

Loss with stipulations?

It does not work for someone like me, who is in it.

Stipulations only add to an already overflowing plate.

And, hey, I get it.

People mean well. Nobody wants anybody to be sad. I’ve said similar things to people myself to try to help them feel better fast.

Now I see that it really doesn’t work. It probably just pushed them away…

Yesterday, I cried most of the day over feeling like my grief is taking too long and that I’m not doing it right,

Most. Of. The. Day.

It was prompted by the phrase: ‘ohhhhhhh, you’re not doing very well, are you?’


Very well compared to what? That started kicking up self doubt like you wouldn’t believe.

What I’m getting at here, is that being open about how momma loss feels is super tricky. Do I have to talk about it? Not really. Would grieving quietly be better? Safer? Perhaps.

Hmm… trade vulnerability for quiet healing?

Maybe I should…

On the other hand, look at this space that sharing my journey has created here!!!

It includes things like:

  • being able to share similar stories
  • real honest to goodness compassion showing up
  • a place to talk about sad days, sudden tears, and hard moments
  • connecting to others who are in loss too
  • learning from each other
  • stumbling around in how to write after being so open
  • being transparent and being met with kindness and support
  • opening doors to conversations about parent loss
  • peeling off layers of crusted up, protective hearts (including mine) to let some things out and in
  • lessons shared
  • hugs sent
  • tossing old stories of time schedules in grief to the curb
  • opening the heart for new ideas instead

I think I’ll just stick to what I’ve been doing. Sharing. Because if I cry for a day, I cry for a day. The best I can tell, putting myself out there is making me stronger, too.

Thanks for being here and for reading.

Big hugs,


this photo is for SanDee