November 25, 2025
A Long Road Back
It was a beautiful fall afternoon on that particular October Friday. And what began as Homecoming weekend with college-aged kids coming home, ended with a Home-going that no one saw coming.
My nineteen-year-old daughter was gone. Gone as a result of a car accident. What was just another day filled with plans for a fun weekend, instead turned into a long and twisting journey filled with waves and extended seasons of grief.
This is my story of the long journey back towards living.
Six weeks had passed since Bridgett’s funeral. And every single day of those six weeks was spent in my rocking chair. Alone, except for her kitty on my lap. Sitting. Rocking. Crying. Petting.
I was vaguely aware I needed to return to work soon. But how?
A friend called to check in. She asked if I had returned to work yet. I told her no, but that I knew I had to get back. She asked if I was ready. I told her no.
No, I was not.
She told me I needed a plan. A self-care plan. A survival guide to make it through the demanding days of work which were waiting for me as leader of a growing nonprofit. Where every day promised to be long. Long days on top of that overwhelming exhaustion which comes with grief.
Her words resonated deep within and prompted me to pull out a notebook and begin writing. Through grace-given insight I could see my grief was both debilitating and isolating, and I would need divine wisdom to develop action steps for a survival guide. But in an inspired moment, I wrote at the top of my plan one simple reminder:
Do Those Things That Give You Life
That one reminder became my mantra during the dark times. When seasons of grief were overwhelming and all I could do was literally put one foot in front of another and take one step at a time, I would tell myself, “Go do something that gives me life.”
So, I would plan for a walk in the woods. Or take time for a quick trip to the North Shore—even if for just a day. Or spend a day with my grandbabies. Simple things. Quiet things. Things that blessed me and strengthened my soul….and helped me keep going.
A couple of years later my son was deployed to Afghanistan, and the fear of losing another child threatened to overtake me. I hung on by doing those simple things in my self-care plan. Then, while he was serving as a medic out of Bagram, I became the primary caregiver for my aging mother–on top of spending grueling hours at work. But I continued to make time to do the activities on my Life-giving List. Looking forward to those things helped sustain me during long hours of work and caregiving.
But that October I was in charge of an annual large event for work, and this particular year the event ended up being the same day my daughter died. Which is always a very sacred day. I remember being so overwhelmed leading up to the date that I could not think clearly– and I was required to speak at the event. That morning, I woke up feeling simultaneously sad and stressed. I hadn’t even written the speech I was to give, but my broken heart had my brain frozen. It dawned on me I had been so busy I hadn’t taken any time to decompress from my busyness, and to process the waves of grief that go hand-in-hand with an angelversary. I desperately needed some time for self-care.
I briefly checked in at work and then headed to a regional park with trails winding through the woods. As I walked in the quiet solitude of nature, I listened to a favorite song on repeat. As “Broken Vessels (Amazing Grace)” softly played into my earbuds, I slowly walked in step with the beat, breathing in the fresh autumn air. Eventually the rhythm of my pace and the power of the lyrics helped memories to flow. My mind unwound as my heart healed. A couple hours later, I was in a place to meet the duties required of me at the evening’s event, while having honored the memory of my daughter.
I learned two lessons that year: First, just how valuable doing those things that gave me life were to my wellbeing. And secondly, I vowed to never work on October 9th again. Instead, on that day, I now choose to honor and remember all that my sweet daughter was. Her spunk, her passion, and how she sparkled.
When my mom passed away, my heart seemed broken all over again. She had become more child-like in her advancing age and losing her was complicated; somewhat like losing a parent and another child all at the same time. With new waves of grief washing over me, doing the things that brought life gave enough energy and strengthened me amid the return of grief-related exhaustion. Doing those little things gave me the strength to press in and do the hard work of grief.
As the years passed, I slowly found my way back to living a life filled once again with goals and dreams, meaning and joy. It was a long road back. But I navigated it in part by doing those very things on my list:
- Faith: Living out my faith daily kept me connected to the Lord and brought me peace.
- Nature: Walking, hiking, gardening or just sitting by the water and being in nature gave me life.
- Connection: Spending one afternoon a week for five years with a small group of other moms who had also lost a child reduced my isolation and offered me support. They understood me. And I them. They were my Bri’s Lodge before Bri’s Lodge even existed. They were my support group and grief companion. Their connection was healing balm to my hurting heart.
- Music: Listening to longtime favorite songs, worship music or even going to family member’s band or choir concerts served to soothe my soul.
- Writing: In writing stories about my daughter as well as journaling, writing helped me process my grief. And it gave me life.
- An Occasional Treat: Even getting an ice cream cone every so often would bring a moment of joy. Because even ice cream can be good for the soul.
- Reading: For a while I became an avid reader. I consumed books about grief and read every book I could find about Heaven. Those hundreds of books brought life, comfort, and hope.
Remembering to do these things that gave me life helped me continue forward on that long road to healing, where I would finally make peace with my pain.
Sometimes loss can consume you and as I continued to heal I would pause to reflect on how far I had come. Occasionally I would answer the call back, meeting with others who had also experienced loss. And I would remind them to also Do Those Things That Give Life.
Their lists usually looked different than mine. But we are all different, and we all grieve differently. What gave them life in the midst of their grief journey was different than what helped me. What’s key is finding those few healthy activities which will be life-giving to you. But what’s also important is choosing to do them and carving out time to actually do them.
One commonality on our lists was a mutual need to be connected with others who cared and supported us. Perhaps you need positive connection with others who understand; the support groups at Bri’s Lodge offer a safe place to share about your grief journey. A place where feelings, worries, problems, and joy can be expressed without judgement. Bereavement support can truly help bring life to those who are feeling isolated in their grief.
Circling back with these newfound friends makes me smile. It is always good hearing them share how doing the things on their list gives them life. How those sweet moments help them be more positive. To feel more thankful. And have more joy.
In closing, remember to be kind to yourself as you continue down this pathway of grief. What can help you get out of your rocking chair, and take one step forward? What does your plan look like to help care for yourself when the days get dark and the journey hard?
What Are Those Things That Give You Life?
Ponder it.
Write them down.
And commit to doing them.
Then you, too, can find those life-giving moments that sustain you and keep you moving along your own long road back to healing and living.
Denice Freih is the new Development Manager at Bri’s Lodge. Grief is no stranger to her, having experienced child loss when her daughter Bridgett passed away due to a car accident. In the years since, Denice has learned much about navigating grief and now uses the pain that came from the loss of her daughter as purpose in joining the team at Bri’s Lodge.
