On June 21st, my son Garret would have turned 21 years old.
It's his golden birthday.
And this year, it falls on Father's Day.
There was a time when dates like these felt impossible. Too heavy. Too unfair. Too filled with all the things that should have been.
I would have spent weeks wondering what kind of young man he would have become. Would he have loved baseball? Would he have gone to college? Would he have rolled his eyes at my jokes and borrowed money he promised to pay back?
I still wonder those things sometimes.
But twenty-one years of loving a child who isn't physically here has taught me something unexpected.
The goal was never to "get over it."
The goal was to learn how to carry him differently.
When Garret died at just one year old, I thought honoring him meant holding tightly to every memory. Protecting every photo. Replaying every moment.
And for a while, it did.
But as the years passed, honoring him began to look different.
It looked like choosing joy without guilt.
It looked like laughing again.
It looked like building a business that now helps grieving hearts all over the world.
It looked like writing a book.
It looked like finding love again.
It looked like telling his story when it mattered and quietly carrying him in my heart when it didn't.
Because honoring someone isn't only about looking backward.
Sometimes it's about living forward.
One of the questions I hear most often from grieving parents is, "How do I honor them after all these years?"
The answer is deeply personal, but here are a few gentle ideas:
• Light a candle and share a favorite memory.
• Make their favorite meal.
• Donate to a cause they would have loved.
• Write them a letter.
• Visit a meaningful place.
• Do an act of kindness in their name.
• Tell their story to someone who never had the chance to know them.
• Create a yearly tradition that feels comforting instead of painful.
Most importantly, give yourself permission to let honoring evolve.
You don't have to grieve the same way you did five years ago.
Or ten.
Or twenty-one.
Love grows.
Memories deepen.
And honoring can become less about surviving the day and more about celebrating the impact they continue to have on your life.
This Father's Day, I'll think about the father who loved Garret fiercely. I'll think about the little boy who made me a boy mom. I'll think about the life we've all lived since.
Twenty-one years later, I still miss him.
Twenty-one years later, I still love him.
And twenty-one years later, he is still changing me.
That's the thing about love.
It doesn't end when a life does.
Sometimes it simply finds a new way to stay.
You Are Not Alone
If you're approaching a birthday, angelversary, or milestone for someone you love, I hope this reminds you there is no right way to honor them.
Love changes shape, but it never leaves.
If you're looking for comforting grief cards, grief support resources, or encouragement for your journey, I'd love to walk alongside you.