stories of grief & remembrance
This is a space to speak the unspeakable — where parents and loved ones can share the depth of their sorrow, their memories, and the moments that forever changed them. Your grief matters here.
A Good Cry
December 2024 I’ve been reserving this as a personal journal as a means to process so much grief, to document so much internal dialogue that comes
Feature YOUR Story Here
Are you interested in sharing your story with our community in hopes of helping and connecting with another? Please consider submitting to Carrying June. You
Feature YOUR Story Here
Are you interested in sharing your story with our community in hopes of helping and connecting with another? Please consider submitting to Carrying June. You
Feature YOUR Story Here
Are you interested in sharing your story with our community in hopes of helping and connecting with another? Please consider submitting to Carrying June. You
Feature YOUR Story Here
Are you interested in sharing your story with our community in hopes of helping and connecting with another? Please consider submitting to Carrying June. You
Feature YOUR Story Here
Are you interested in sharing your story with our community in hopes of helping and connecting with another? Please consider submitting to Carrying June. You
"grief is the price of love — & in sharing it, we remind one another that we're not alone"
Your story matters. Each experience of loss is unique, yet in sharing our journeys, we create connection and meaning. Consider adding your voice to our community.
FEATUred story
Grief Made Me Time-Travel
Written by Taryn Jarboe
In the months after our daughter June died from neuroblastoma, I sat in a plastic chair on our stone patio, in the far corner of the yard facing the wood line behind our house. It was spring in Maine. With exception of the birds chirping and the occasional passing car, it was quiet.
The most important people in my life don’t exist in these memories, such as my daughter, who was three years old at the time, or my husband who was likely working. June was gone. The only person I can truly account for on those days was my son who repeatedly stretched his legs and pressed on my ribcage in the tight quarters my belly had become.
I sat alone in despair, on the patio, watching the still boughs waking from a long Maine winter, waiting for a sign.
I’d once read that the relationship between a human and a tree is reciprocal. A tree admires the human as much as the human admires the tree. It’s an unsung energetic exchange. I admired the trees. I begged them to notice me. A fragment of their energy might heal me in ways I knew I couldn’t quite understand.
Grief Resources
Financial Support
Aid for families facing medical expenses, household bills, and other financial challenges.
Recommended Books
Curated reading list for grief, parenting through illness, and healing journeys.
Podcasts
Listen to inspiring stories & helpful discussions about childhood cancer journeys.