Love, memory and connection

A few weeks ago, I met a man at the cemetery. We have spoken a few times. Last time, he came quietly, carrying a small gift—incense and rosary beads—and told me he prays for Cooper every day.

He spoke softly about his wife, who had only recently passed away. I talked about Cooper, about the light he brought into our lives and the void left behind.

In that moment, grief felt both strange and beautiful.

Here we were—two strangers connected by loss, sharing pieces of our hearts in a place where silence usually reigns.

What struck me most was how meaningful these new connections are. To be allowed—and even encouraged—to speak openly about the person we love and have lost is a rare and precious gift. It opens the heart in ways that words alone cannot fully capture.

Most people show how uncomfortable they are when we mention someone who has died. It’s like grief is something to avoid, a topic too heavy to bear. But here, with this man who prays daily for my son, grief became a bridge instead of a barrier.

This shared understanding, this mutual respect for loss, means the world.

Grief is strange. It isolates us in some ways, but it can also bring unexpected connections that remind us we are not alone.

I encourage you—if you know someone grieving—to say the name of the person they’ve lost. Speak it aloud. You will open their heart and help their light shine. You will not make them feel worse—because there is no “worse.” There is only love, memory, and connection.