Love Never Dies

Love Never Dies A Grieving Mother. My son, Derick passed away at the age of 31. His smile was contagious. He could light up a room. I created this page in his memory.

He never met anyone that he didn't consider a friend. This is for all Grieving/ broken hearted đź’”. ďż˝

I miss you! đź’”
02/14/2026

I miss you! đź’”

02/01/2026

Nobody tells you that grief lives in your body.

They talk about sadness. About missing someone. About the emotional weight. But nobody tells you what it actually feels like. The physical sensation of carrying loss around inside you every single day.

It feels like drowning on dry land. Like there's a weight sitting on your chest that never lifts. You're breathing, technically, but it doesn't feel like enough air is getting in.

It feels like your body forgot how to work right. You're exhausted all the time—bone-deep, soul-crushing exhaustion—but you can't sleep. Or you sleep too much and wake up more tired than when you went to bed.

Your body can't figure out what it needs because what it needs is them back, and that's not happening.

Some days your heart physically hurts. Not metaphorically. Actually hurts. Like someone reached into your chest and squeezed it. You wonder if you're having a heart attack. You're not. It's just grief living in the space where they used to be.

Your stomach is a disaster. You're either starving or nauseous. Food tastes like nothing or makes you want to throw up. You forget to eat for an entire day and then eat everything in sight at midnight.

Your body doesn't know what to do with itself anymore.

And the panic attacks. The ones that hit out of nowhere. Your heart racing. Your hands shaking. Your breath catching in your throat like you're choking on air. You're standing in the grocery store or sitting at your desk or driving down the highway and suddenly your body is screaming that something is wrong—which it is, they're dead, but your nervous system acts like it just figured that out five seconds ago.

Everything aches. Your shoulders. Your neck. Your jaw from clenching your teeth in your sleep.

Your head from crying or not crying or crying so much you can't cry anymore. Your whole body is just tired of holding this.

And people don't see it.

They see you standing there. Functioning. Going through the motions. They think you're okay because you're upright.
Because you showed up. Because you're not actively sobbing in front of them.

But inside? Inside you're fighting just to keep your body from collapsing.

You're using every ounce of energy you have just to stay standing.
To keep breathing.
To not fall apart in the middle of wherever you are because your body feels like it's being held together with tape.

Grief doesn't just live in your head. It moves into your bones. It takes up space in your lungs. It sits heavy in your gut and makes your hands shake and steals your sleep and hijacks your nervous system.

And nobody tells you that. Nobody warns you that losing someone doesn't just break your heart—it breaks your whole damn body.

You're not imagining it.
You're not being dramatic.
Your body is trying to process a loss it was never designed to handle.
And it's doing the best it can.
Which some days means barely holding together.

That’s what grief actually feels like. Heavy. Exhausting. Physical.
And some days, just keeping your body going is all you can do.

Written by: Aimee Suyko - In Their Footsteps

01/24/2026

01/10/2026
01/02/2026

Happy New Year in Heaven đź’”
01/02/2026

Happy New Year in Heaven đź’”

12/27/2025

Christmas can be a difficult time for many, and for those of us navigating grief, the festive cheer can sometimes feel o...
12/24/2025

Christmas can be a difficult time for many, and for those of us navigating grief, the festive cheer can sometimes feel overwhelming. My heart holds a special place for my dear son, whose absence is felt so deeply, especially during these holidays.
​This snow globe represents a piece of my heart – a quiet moment within the beautiful, yet sometimes painful, season. The twinkling lights of the Christmas tree in the background remind me of the love and joy he brought into my life, while the quiet snow falling within the globe reflects the stillness and sorrow that often accompanies grief.
​If you're also experiencing loss or carrying a heavy heart this Christmas, please know you're not alone. It's okay to feel whatever you're feeling, and it's okay to find quiet moments for reflection amidst the celebrations. Sending love and gentle thoughts to anyone who needs it right now.
​

Christmas is often a time for joy and celebration, but for many, it can also amplify feelings of grief. The festive atmo...
12/20/2025

Christmas is often a time for joy and celebration, but for many, it can also amplify feelings of grief. The festive atmosphere, carols, and traditions can serve as reminders of loved ones lost, creating a stark contrast between outward cheer and inner sorrow. It's a unique kind of pain, where memories of past holidays intertwine with the present absence, making the season feel both sacred and incredibly difficult.

"A small reminder for those of us navigating grief this Christmas:​You have permission to skip traditions that hurt too ...
12/20/2025

"A small reminder for those of us navigating grief this Christmas:
​You have permission to skip traditions that hurt too much.
​You have permission to cry in the middle of a party.
​You have permission to laugh without feeling guilty.
​You have permission to just 'get through it.'
​Love doesn't end where a life does. Wishing you a season of peace, however that looks for you. 🕯️"

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