Two Butterflies + Halos grief cards about the phrase everything happens for a reason

The Story Behind the Card: Please Don’t Tell Me "Everything Happens for a Reason"

August 27, 2026

Welcome to The Story Behind the Card—a new blog series where I share the inspiration, heart, and hope behind the greeting cards I create for Butterflies + Halos. Every card has a story. This is where I'll tell it.

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There are certain things people say after a loss that are meant to bring comfort. And then there are things that make you want to smile politely while screaming internally.

“Everything happens for a reason” is at the very top of that second list.

Most people who say it mean well. They're reaching for something—anything—that might make an unbearable situation feel a little less unbearable. But good intentions don't always make words comforting.

Grief Doesn't Need a Silver Lining

We are profoundly uncomfortable with pain we cannot fix. When someone we love is hurting, our instinct is to reach for phrases that try to tidy up the mess:

“They’re in a better place.”
“God needed another angel.”
“Time heals all wounds.”
And the grand champion of grief phrases: anything beginning with “at least.”

For the love of casseroles everywhere, please retire “at least” from the grief vocabulary.

Grief doesn’t need comparison. It doesn’t need perspective. And it certainly doesn’t need a sideline commentator explaining why the worst thing to ever happen to you was "supposed" to happen.

Sometimes Things Are Just Really Shitty

Sometimes terrible things happen. People die too young. Cancer wins. Accidents happen. Families are forever changed by a diagnosis, a phone call, or an ordinary Tuesday that suddenly becomes the day everything changed.

Hearing "everything happens for a reason" in those moments feels incredibly dismissive. Even if you eventually find meaning in what you survived, meaning and reason are not the same thing.

You don't need profound words to support someone. You just need to show up:

“I hate that this happened.”
“You don’t have to be strong with me.”
“I don’t know what to say, but I love you.”
Say their person's name.

The Best Thing You Can Give

Your presence.

Not your answers, your timelines, or your explanations. Just you.

The friend who checks in three months later. The one who remembers the birthday, the anniversary, and the holidays. The one who says their person's name. The one who sends a card long after the casseroles have stopped arriving.

A grief card isn't supposed to make the pain disappear. It's just a little piece of paper that says:

I see you.
I remember.
I'm still here.

And really?

That's a hell of a lot more comforting than a “reason.”

💛 Shop This Story

This exact frustration is why I created two Butterflies + Halos grief cards around that phrase grieving people hear far too often. Because grief has moods—and quite frankly, so do grievers. Both cards say what many grievers are thinking, just with two slightly different levels of sass:

Some Things Are Just Really Sh*tty: For the grieving person who doesn’t need their loss explained, justified, or wrapped in a silver lining. Sometimes the most comforting thing we can say is simply: “Some things are just really SH*TTY and they should never have happened.” No explanation required.
I’ll Throat Punch Them for You: For the friend who needs a little humor with their grief—and the reassurance that somebody is firmly in their corner. Are we actually advocating violence? No. But humor gives us permission to say what grief has made us think a thousand times. Think of it as the paper version of a friend rolling up their sleeves and saying, “I've got you.”

Both cards are blank inside, because grief is personal, relationships are personal, and sometimes the words that matter most are the ones that come directly from you.

Next time you open a blank card, remember you don't need a Hallmark-movie monologue:

Write their person’s name.
Share a memory.
Tell them you miss them, too.
Or simply write, “I’m here.”

You don’t need the perfect words. You just need words that remind them they don’t have to carry this alone.

(If these cards speak to your heart—or to someone you love—you can find them here.)

❤️ A Gentle Reminder

You do not have to find a reason, a silver lining, or the perfect words for someone else’s grief. Sometimes things are simply heartbreaking, and grief doesn’t need your answers—it needs your presence. Skip the platitudes, say their person’s name, send the card, and sit with them in the messy, uncomfortable parts without trying to fix it. You don't have to make their pain smaller; you just have to remind them they don't have to carry it entirely alone.

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1 comment

Very helpful, Angie. Thank you

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