The following is an excerpt from From a Grieving Mother’s Heart.

An excerpt from earlier in this book containing the diary of a bereaved mother is available here.


Diary of a Bereaved Mother

January 13th (Day 221)

Now that the young man who caused your death has been

meted his punishment and the courts have done their job . . .

or did they . . . I should be able to “turn the page” and move

forward, but it’s not easy. Grieving is full of many sharp

turns and curves, and they often catch me off-balance like

they did yesterday.


I had a terrible day. Loneliness and sadness hung heavily

around my neck, making me morose and angry. Every time

I turned around, you were in my thoughts, and not the good

memories—the hard ones. An ambulance passed us, and I

began to cry. And tears gushed from my eyes as I walked

through the floral department at the grocery store because

I know that the most I can now do for you is to put fresh

flowers on your grave. Then Dad and I were cleaning out

the cabinet below the fish tank and I found some of your

college-related paperwork as well as a note you had written

to us a few months before you died, and I began to cry.


Diary of Mom: Exhausted by the Pain

All day long pain seeped through every pore of me, leaving

me feeling hopeless and as though this aching will never

be better. If I had to deal with it at this intensity for any

extended period of time, I couldn’t take it. I feel so terribly

beaten down and exhausted from the whole process. But I

have to remember that was yesterday, and not every day

has been like that. As my sister Kathy said, it takes longer

and longer for the pressure to build up under my emotions

now. I have to remember that, and not be hard on myself,

but to gently love myself through one more step.


Why did it all happen, Rob? Why? Sure, we can put all

kinds of rational answers to that question as well as we

can come up with all of the logical steps to grieving, but

this is not a logical experience. Losing you was a heavily

emotional experience, one that tore through the very heart

of me, racing past my mind and ignoring its attempt to try

to put this into a box of orderly feelings and experiences.

There is no box that my sadness and grief will fit into. It

bounces off the walls of my pain and logic to reverberate

around my heart.


Diary of a Bereaved Mother: ‘I hate holidays’

May 10th (Day 338)

I’m beginning to hate holidays. This would have been

just another Sunday where we went to church, maybe to

breakfast, and then home. I would have thought of you

some today the way I do every day, but today is Mother’s

Day, and that brought the pain of your loss screaming down

against my heart. We went to church, out to breakfast and

then stopped by your grave. I looked at the grass that is

now completely grown over where your coffin lies deep

within the ground, and I thought about one year ago. Back

then, I had a son. Now, I don’t. What else will life bring?

Will Mother’s Day ever come again without pain?

Holidays are made for happy people . . . for people whose

lives have never been touched by pain. And I don’t believe

people like that exist. So, why do we keep having holidays?

I truly think I hate them. At least, today I do.


Mother’s Journal: Two Years Later

June 7th (Day 734)

Why is life? What is life? I’m not sure. I don’t know if I’ll

ever be sure. You’ve been gone for two years now, Rob. The

years are flying by. I’ve adjusted to your death, but the

pain is still there. The fingers of that pain don’t reach out

into the rest of my life like they used to, but if I step into

the room of memories, the pain still sears its way through

I’ve adjusted to your death, but I’ll never get used to it,
nor will it ever be okay.

Diary Entry: A Bright White Blanket

August 12th (Day 800)

Life is perplexing, confusing, delightful and painful . . .

rolled up like a snowball that has picked up the rocks and

debris lying under the bright, white blanket of freshly

fallen snow.


My life is like that. The present is the blanket of snow;

my past, the rocks and debris that are hidden just below. It

doesn’t take much effort to get to the debris. As the white

blanket of happiness, contentment, self-esteem grows

thicker, the creations of my everyday existence are less

convoluted by the junk under the surface.


Let it snow…let it snow!


To read more from this diary, click to find this article:

To learn more about the author and her books,


Terri Leidich

At the age of 16, Terri knew she would be a writer, but life and all its different paths took over as she devoted the next 30 years to building a career and raising a family. In 1991 when her son was killed in an accident, her focus changed and the need to write again resurfaced as she journaled through her time of grief and great confusion as to the purpose of life. Her book, From a Grieving Mother’s Heart, published in 2010 was created from excerpts of her journal. Terri and her husband, Glenn, live in Waynesville, North Carolina.

More Articles Written by Terri