Building Support That Holds You
Last year, I lost my mother.
I’ve been incredibly fortunate to have a strong and loving support system. So many people showed up for me — checking in, listening patiently, sitting with my grief.
But grief doesn’t follow a schedule.It doesn’t politely confine itself to the early weeks or to daylight hours. Sometimes it hits in the middle of the night. Sometimes it circles back to the same thoughts, the same stories, the same ache. And in those moments, I’m reminded that even the most caring people have human limits — not because they don’t care, but because they have their own lives, responsibilities, and emotional bandwidth.
No one person — or even a group of people — can indefinitely carry the full weight of someone else’s inner world.
Coincidentally, over time, I realized that, without fully noticing it at the moment, I had been leaning on a few resources — books, routines, moments of reflection — that were quietly helping me build a broader support system.
And that’s when a deeper understanding emerged:
People can support you — but they can’t be the whole foundation you stand on.
I believe it was destiny and divine guidance that led me to these practices and resources, and I’m sharing them here in case they help someone navigating grief, or supporting someone who is.
1. Intellectual Anchors
In the early days, I found myself Googling questions I didn’t know how to say out loud. I searched for grief stories. I searched for language for emotions that felt too tangled to explain.
Books and thoughtful content became steady anchors.
A few that deeply resonated:
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Now That She’s Gone: A Daughter’s Reflections on Loss, Love, and a Mother’s Legacy, by Chelsea Ohlemiller: I found this through the author’s blog (https://hopeandharshrealities.com/). Reading it felt like someone had articulated feelings I couldn’t yet name. It made me feel seen.
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Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on Love and Life from Dear Sugar by Cheryl Strayed – A collection of letters and responses from her time as an advice columnist. Some chapters held a kind of raw honesty that met me exactly where I was.
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It’s OK That You’re Not OK: Meeting Grief and Loss in a Culture That Doesn’t Understand by Megan Devine – One of the first books I encountered on grief. Practical, validating, and deeply humane.
In difficult seasons, even the best practical advice can feel hollow if there isn’t an emotional connection first. These books didn’t rush solutions. They acknowledged pain before trying to fix it.
That mattered.
2. Routine as Quiet Structure
We often think of routines as mundane. But during grief, routine becomes scaffolding.
Going to work.
Taking care of physical health.
Reading. Painting. Walking.
These small, repeated action, while they do not remove the pain — but they give the day a frame. Even briefly, they can force you to step out of grief, give your mind a break, and feel productive — doing something intellectually stimulating, however small.
3. Faith and Philosophy
Though I list this last, it has been foundational.
Listening to spiritual or philosophical talks. Reflecting on impermanence. Strengthening faith in something greater than human reach.
Grief brings existential questions. Why loss? Why now? What remains?
Faith — however one defines it — doesn’t eliminate sorrow. It offers a wider horizon than the immediate pain.
Human connection remains irreplaceable, but the resources I’ve shared here — which have been helping me — may also offer steady companionship to some of you, when friends or family aren’t immediately reachable.
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