Our Stories

Dear wonderful WordPress Family,

Katie and I came to the blog in February 2019. This time three years ago we were hesitantly throwing about the idea of starting a blog. We thought about posts we wanted to write, the themes we wanted to use.

Katie and I have had many great ideas over the years. When we were kids, we started off building forts from pillows, making numerous funny videos, singing together, laughing together. Over time, building forts became clearing our house out to put it up for rent. Making funny videos for Katie’s Facebook became being part of online conferences, in-person conferences, pop-up stalls and more. Yet our proudest achievement is what we have created with The Grief Reality; our beautiful community.

Our intention from starting the blog was only to write and lighten the load.

I have always been a writer. From tall stories about dark-haired heroines meeting elves and hiding from evil people underground, my pen would create illustrious landscapes where I could roam and romp with all of my imaginary friends. I wrote stories about Sam and Sarah, magical twins who had to find their way home, or Esmeralda, a girl who was on a journey to finding her mum.

I never wrote with the intention of being read, I wrote only to escape.

Three years ago today, it only piqued my interest a little bit that someone on this site could in fact read what I would say. I resigned myself to the promise that it would only be a few people; probably one who would be our uncle after he stumbled his way to our blog. The importance was not that I would be read, it was that I would be able to share my pain.

Three years ago today, people started to expect Katie and I to stop dominating the conversations with our loss. It was never said out loud for us to stop, but for some people, Mum’s name was becoming a favourite book that was sitting on a shelf, starting to collect dust. Yet for us, her presence was still warm like her favourite spot on the sofa after she got up to go to bed. We wanted to curl up in that haven, and feel the warmth from her life forever.

So we began to write.

We poured our lives and souls into the depths of the internet; typing away like we were in our own personal Marvel montage. I remember getting excited that 27 people had viewed our words. Those 27 people will never know the inspiration that they invoked on me, as I leapt forward, encouraged to share my story, coping mechanisms and love for mum on my journey with grief.

In lockdown in 2020, we opened our blog up to you. The gorgeous people who cradled our pain, validated our emotions, and held our virtual hand as we opened up about the life we were living.

You were our secret friend in our back pocket, giving us confidence as we went through a world without mum, university, a pandemic, moving away from home. It felt right that the people who shaped our blog should have a hand in shaping it back.

So we opened As Told By You. Since being a child, I had always written about heroes and heroines fighting their internal demons, yet here I was; confronted with almost 80 heroes who inspired me with their stories.

Gently, you emailed in, messaged or commented, trusting us with your stories. I have had countless conversations with you all about the beauty of your poetry, the intimacy of your words or the tears that prick my eyes when I read the depths of your love. Between us all, we have created an expanse of knowledge, comfort and advice that I know I would have adored when I first started writing as part of this blog.

When we started The Grief Reality, we promised ourselves to help the version of Katie and Evee who felt alone, when they needed love the most. We wrote list upon list of post ideas, colour coded from advice, information or personal experience.

I didn’t realise that in doing this, we, and you, would help the current versions of Katie and Evee so deeply. You have given us courage, and we cannot thank you enough for that.

So here is to a new year of As Told By You. If you get the chance, please re-read the beautiful posts already uploaded. They are so comforting to us, and I hope you will find comfort in them too.

If you feel inspired to share your words, your story and your loved one, please feel free to email us ( thegriefreality@outlook.com ), comment below, or message us on our social media: Twitter: TheGriefReality, Instagram: TheGriefReality.

It really is an honour to be a part of this community, and to hear all of your stories. You are all heroes to us.

You are never alone,

Katie & Evee

9 thoughts on “Our Stories

  1. Feels odd to say, but lockdowns helped me find more friends online, too. Blogging may have started just for business, but it’s become a comfort zone for me, too. Glad you’re both here,

  2. Thank you for sharing!!… The both of you are a role model for many and thank you for sharing a part of your world!!.. we all learn from each other and be friends… 🙂

    “Portrait of a Friend”

    I can’t give solutions to all of life’s problems, doubts,
    or fears. But I can listen to you, and together we will
    search for answers.

    I can’t change your past with all it’s heartache and pain,
    nor the future with its untold stories.
    But I can be there now when you need me to care.

    I can’t keep your feet from stumbling.
    I can only offer my hand that you may grasp it and not fall.
    Your joys, triumphs, successes, and happiness are not mine;
    Yet I can share in your laughter.

    Your decisions in life are not mine to make, nor to judge;
    I can only support you, encourage you,
    and help you when you ask.

    I can’t prevent you from falling away from friendship,
    from your values, from me.
    I can only think of you, talk to you and wait for you.

    I can’t give you boundaries which I have determined for you,
    But I can give you the room to change, room to grow,
    room to be yourself.

    I can’t keep your heart from breaking and hurting,
    But I can cry with you and help you pick up the pieces
    and put them back in place.

    I can’t tell you who you are or who you will be
    I can only love you and be your friend
    (Adam Clarke)

    Until we meet again..
    May love and laughter light your days,
    and warm your heart and home.
    May good and faithful friends be yours,
    wherever you may roam.
    May peace and plenty bless your world
    with joy that long endures.
    May all life’s passing seasons
    bring the best to you and yours!
    (Irish Saying)

  3. “Our intention from starting the blog was only to write and lighten the load.”
    I’d say you have enjoyed resounding success!
    I know you have lightened my load, from the occasional pain I still feel of missing my Dad and Mother who went to Heaven in ’93 and ’99 respectively. May God richly bless you as you continue your journey with you Mum in your memories.
    ❤️&🙏, c.a.

  4. I’m so happy I stumbled into your blogosphere!. I don’t always take time to comment (it’s really busy at the farm) but I read your blog most every day. Thank you for sharing your lives with us. Experience speaks much louder than good intentions. I lost my son in May of 2020. Friends tried to say “the right thing”, but there is nothing to be said. I ‘ve been blessed to have other people in my life who have experienced the loss of a child – regardless of how old the child may have been – my son was 37. Since then it feels like it’s been one loss after another. I lost my best friend, a valued coworker, and several folks that were important to me during this COVID mess. I lost one of my favorite farm volunteers today to cancer. Some days its like it will never end and then it occurred to me – it won’t end. That’s what happens when we get older. It is what it is and it’s part of life that I wish none of us had to deal with.

    Thank you for doing what you do. Putting yourselves out there, telling of your Mum – those things are vital to others going through this crappy process called grief. It’s a lot easier to deal with when others are open about their loss.

  5. Grief is a never ending cycle. I’ve been trying to get it out for 5 1/2 years. Some days I do well. Some days not so well. It’s something you learn to live with and deal with on a daily basis. I miss my Nick. but each day gets a little easier. Losing your Mum is a different grief than losing the love of your life. My friend Sharon put it this way:

    Losing a parent, you lose your past.
    Losing a child, you lose your future.
    But losing a spouse? You lose past, present, and future.

    I have not yet lost either parent. I dread the day. But I will come here to see what helps when I do lose my Mom.

    Thank you for writing….


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