When Your Adult Child Leaves This Earth” They weren’t supposed to go first. Not the one you carried, taught to walk, watched grow, and stood beside as they became their own person. Losing an adult child is a sorrow few can fully understand. The world often forgets that no matter how old our children get, they are still our babies. We carry every version of them inside us—the toddler with sticky fingers, the teenager with big dreams, the adult still figuring life out. And when they are gone, it’s all those versions we mourn. You lose not just their physical presence, but their voice on the other end of the phone, the text that said “I made it home,” the plans that would have unfolded over years. You lose their future, and a piece of yours. Grief after losing an adult child is quiet but heavy. You might still go to work, smile in public, cook dinner—but the ache never fully leaves. You find yourself reaching for a phone call that will never come, scrolling through photos, or whispering into the silence, “I miss you.” If you’re walking through this pain, please know you are not alone. There is no timeline for grief and no right way to carry it. Be gentle with yourself. Speak their name. Share their story. Let their memory live in your every breath. Even though they are no longer here, the love remains. It always will. By Kellie Cunningham Sipos (fb)

To The Moms Who Never Got To Hold Their Child on Mother’s Day” Mother’s Day can be a beautiful day of hugs, flowers, and breakfast in bed—but for some, it’s a quiet ache. To the mothers who never held their child in their arms, whose motherhood is written in love rather than memories—I see you. You are a mother, no less than anyone else. Your heart began to grow the moment you knew they were there. You dreamed of them. You loved them before the world ever could. Though your arms may be empty, your heart carries a bond that even time and loss cannot break. This Mother’s Day, may you feel honored. May your love be acknowledged. And may you know, deep in your soul, that being a mother has never depended on the number of days—but on the depth of love. Kellie Sipos dedicated to my daughter Olivia (fb)