Am I Not Here? A Message for the Griever

I won’t lie—I’ve been struggling.

I’m someone who values truth, so I can’t pretend everything is fine.

Yes, the house is decorated (sorta, mostly), and we’re halfway through Advent and December, but this holiday season has been harder than I expected.

It’s more painful than last year, and I didn’t think that was even possible.

Not everything fits or even makes sense. I wish I could explain it all to you. I didn’t know until I knew.

Grief, especially during the holidays, can feel heavier, and this season has been no exception. There is so much to process—so much loss, so much unspoken and confusing distance—a subtle, painful absence that I’ve carried deeply but quietly. It’s been a weight I wasn’t fully prepared for. People often say, “but it’s been over a year, things should be better…”

But in the midst of this, I am reminded of Our Lady of Guadalupe and another season of grief and loneliness—one that my mom walked as a widow. I wanted to walk closely with her so she wasn’t alone in her grief, loss and transitions.

I stayed close even when it was difficult, uncomfortable and sometimes—quite frankly—far too much because I knew she needed to know she wasn’t alone.

I, too, was grieving the loss of my dad. His absence felt sharp, and yet, it was a different kind of grief that my mom carried without her husband by her side. They had 50 years of marriage, her grief was a loss of not just a spouse, but of the life she knew. I now understand how quickly and drastically life can change in the blink of an eye. I now understand the depth of loneliness she carried as a widow.

I didn’t know until I knew.

I saw how others dismissed her loneliness—I sometimes did, too—chalking it up to neediness and not understanding the depth of her pain. I suspected it was more than that then—and I surely know that now.

That same dismissiveness and sense of “forgottenness” have been a part of my own grief journey. Am I not here, how do they not know and see my pain. It’s hard to carry, especially when you’re already hurting from the loss of your partner, your spouse, your love and the life you knew. The feeling that others may not fully understand or see the depth of the pain only adds to the weight. And though I may be forgotten or misunderstood by those who haven’t walked this path, I know that I can turn to Our Lady, who, too, understood what it felt like to be dismissed, misunderstood, and alone and to lose a spouse.

In sharing my story, I hope to remind you that you are not alone in your grief whether grieving the loss of loved one, a spouse, a child, a parent, the loss of a friend or a relationship, a pet, a job or any transition you may be experiencing.

Am I not here, I who am your Mother?

Our lady of guadalupe to St Juan Diego

On this Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe, I find solace in her words that forever changed my heart: “¿No estoy yo aquí, que soy tu Madre?” — “Am I not here, I who am your Mother?“

During one of my heaviest seasons of grief, long before Jon’s illness and passing, I stood before her image in a quiet corner of a busy cathedral in New York City on our anniversary in 2018, just after the first Christmas after losing my dad. Pierced with sorrow and clinging to the hope of life’s possibilities, I searched for peace and comfort, asking for guidance in the prayers that weighed heavily on my heart—and Jon’s—for what would come next as we did our best to care for my mom while raising our family. We were all processing and grieving everything that surrounded my dad’s long 12 weeks—back and forth to the hospital—while Sophia was healing from her second cochlear implant surgery and adjusting to a new reality of being 100% naturally deaf.

I ached for my daughter and my mom’s loneliness. I carried my deep wounds and sadness for losing my dad, and I could see how the world felt like it was spinning out of control. “How hard this must have been for my mom to face life without her husband,” I used to think. But now I understand why God made me aware of her pain. I see how God weaves our stories.

Though prayers were answered much differently than I had hoped, Our Blessed Mother and Her Son was present along the path of our journey. Threads being woven are still very much creating a beautiful tapestry. Of that, I am certain.

As St. Juan Diego heard: “Listen, and let it penetrate into your heart, my dear little Son, do not be troubled or weighed down with grief. Do not fear any illness or vexation, anxiety or pain. Am I not your mother? Are you not under my shadow and protection?” These words, spoken by Our Lady to St. Juan Diego, echo in my heart as I reflect on my own journey of grief. She reminds us that, no matter the weight of our sorrow, we are never truly alone. Under her care, we are shielded, embraced, and comforted. Even in our darkest moments, she calls us to trust in her protection, to lean into her love, and to find peace in knowing that she is with us always.

The message I discovered from Our Lady of Guadalupe on my anniversary in 2018 wrapped around me like a mother’s embrace, a mantle of protection, whispering that I was never alone in sorrow. Perhaps it was also a seed planted to prepare me for what would come with my husband and my widow journey.

The Blessed Mother’s love has remained a steady constant in my life, especially when the weight of loss felt/feels unbearable. She doesn’t just see our pain—she mothers us through it. Perfect image to cling to as my earthly mother has entered her eternal reward.

She holds us close and gently leads us to her Son, offering the hope and comfort we need to keep going. Her presence is a beacon of hope in the darkness of grief, a reminder that we are not alone.

Whatever sorrow or burden you carry today, know that she sees you. She wraps you in her embrace and reminds you that you are never forgotten

Whatever sorrow or burden you carry today, know that she sees you. She wraps you in her embrace and reminds you that you are never forgotten. We can open our hearts to her tender love and trust in her faithful care. Bring your burdens to her—Our Lady of Guadalupe, the mother who faithfully sees, loves, and draws us ever closer to her Son. To Jesus through Mary.

You are never alone in your sorrow.

If you feel lost or unseen, remember that the darkness of grief is not the end. Though grief can sometimes feel suffocating, it doesn’t overshadow the love that carries us through. We are held in Our Lady’s tender care, and with her, we can continue to press on, even when the road feels heavy. Through her, we find the strength to move forward, knowing we are never alone.

If you enjoyed reading this story of walking with Our Lady of Guadalupe, the Queen of Saints, I invite you to consider grabbing your copy of Cloud of Witnesses. I had the privilege of contributing a chapter alongside 24 other talented and faithful authors, each sharing the story of a Saint who has inspired their own journey toward Heaven. I truly hope this book blesses you in the same way it has blessed me.

If you want to read a bit more about the path to this book, you can go here.

“The stories in this book are not just chronicles of historical figures from the past but friends very much involved in our present. Each writer shares about a particular saint and how that saint has shown up in their life in marvelous ways. Let this cloud of witnesses–both the writers and their heavenly friends–inspire you to keep running your own race and to remember that you are never–never–alone.” from the Cloud of Witnesses Book