Surviving Grief

  Still Standing, Still Praying: When You’ve Given All You Can 💔 A Tired Heart, Still Trying I’ve tried to stay strong. I’ve tried to stay hopeful. But if I’m being honest with you—and with myself—today, I’m just tired. Every day feels like a mountain. Waking up, finding the strength to keep going, trying to figure out how to survive in a world that kept spinning after mine stopped… it’s overwhelming. Since losing Mark, my heart has never quite returned to normal. He wasn’t just my husband. He was our provider, our rock, the one who helped carry me through my PTSD and anxiety when the world outside our door was too much to face. Now, it’s just me and my son, Bryce, trying to pick up the pieces in a world that doesn’t slow down for grief. 🏚️ Why I Created the GoFundMe  I created a GoFundMe because we’re falling behind on rent. Six months behind, actually. Our landlord has shown grace, but grace only stretches so far. I’ve done everything I can from home—starting Flip vi...

  "I Keep Wanting to Tell Them…" 💭 The Moments That Still Belong to Them There are still moments—quiet, unremarkable moments—when I catch myself reaching for my phone or turning my head to speak. It might be something funny I saw. Something beautiful. Something frustrating. Something sacred. And without fail, my first thought is, "I need to tell Mark." Then the ache comes. Healing is not a straight line. It is a circle that returns us, again and again, to the person we miss the most. Even after weeks, months, or years, I find myself longing to share the day's joys and burdens with my lost loved ones. And it does not feel strange. It feels like muscle memory. Because Mark was not just my husband—he was my person. My sounding board. My safe place. My Mom was the person I went to for everything. We spoke on the phone at least three times a day when we didn't live together. When we lived together, there might have been times when we were together too...

  Grieving Hearts Need Gentle Places By Dyan Bertha Fiorentino Grief Does not Stop the World — But It Changes Ours When we are grieving, the world does not stop — but it often feels like it should. As I sat down to film this video, I was thinking about the countless hearts carrying silent burdens. Those who have lost a spouse, a parent, a child… or even the version of life they thought they would have. I know that kind of ache. It is not just emotional — it is spiritual, physical, and daily.   In June 2025, I lost my husband, Mark — my anchor, and my home. And in the years before, I lost my mother, Jackie, and others dear to me. Each loss brought its own storm, and each storm forced me to grow deeper roots in my faith.   But grief does not come with a roadmap. Every day brings different challenges, some easy to navigate alone, and some too hard to even consider. Since Mark left, I have thought about the dreams we will never fulfill. We wanted to travel around the Unit...

Secure a New Beginning for Dyan and Bryce Hello, my name is Dyan Bertha Fiorentino. I'm a widow, a mother, and a writer trying to rebuild a life after heartbreak. In June 2025, I lost my husband Mark — the love of my life, my best friend, my partner in everything. His funeral has been paid for, but without his income, my son Bryce and I are now struggling to survive. But Mark was not the only loss. In the past five years, I've also lost my mother, Jackie — my anchor and closest friend — just three months after her diagnosis. And I've grieved the passing of my biological father, Lewis, my stepdad, Bill, and my beautiful niece, Tawni. Each loss felt like a chapter closing. But God kept me going through faith, through writing, and through serving others in grief. I've written and published my memoir Divine Light, built a blog called Surviving Grief with Dyan, created a 7-day and now 365-day grief journal, and started offering writing services and video reflections. I joine...

🌍 Grief Has No Borders Many of you are from around the world. I would love it if you could share how grief has touched your heart. I want you to feel at home here, wherever you may be from. Simply use the Translate button in the sidebar. –Dyan You can now read "Surviving Grief" with Dyan in multiple  languages. May the words bring comfort, no matter the language. 💜

💔 Real Grief Doesn’t Fade – It Deepens with Love "Real grief is not healed by time… If time does anything, it deepens our grief..." —Henri Nouwen, Healing After Loss 🕯️ The Frightening Truth About Grief At first, this idea is terrifying. Grief deepening? Will I ever feel better? But as days pass, I’ve started to understand what Henri Nouwen meant. As time unfolds, so do memories. The more time we have to reflect, the more fully we realize who our loved one truly was to us. Their love—the kind we may have taken for granted while they were alive—becomes clearer, sharper, and yes, sometimes more painful in their absence. 🕳️ The Depth of the Loss It has been 24 days since Mark passed away. I thought Bryce and I were managing. But today, it hit me—we’re drowning. Neither of us is sleeping. I feel like I’m spiraling. Even the computer, my comfort tool, feels like a stranger. I told Bryce today, half-joking, half-serious, “Maybe we should just sell everything and live in ou...

  🏡 When the House No Longer Holds Them "In desperate hope, I go and search for her in all the corners of my house... But infinite is thy mansion, my Lord, and seeking her I have come to thy door." —Rabindranath Tagore 🕯️ My Mother's Presence Lingered After my mother passed, her home felt like hers. Every room whispered of her presence— The kitchen still smelled of her cooking. Her closet still held the scent of her perfume. I thought cleaning out her closet would bring some relief. It didn’t. Her spirit clung to every inch of that house. I wasn’t just letting go of things—I was letting go of her space, her sanctuary. 📦 Letting Go of Mark’s Belongings When Mark died, I handled it differently. I began sorting through his things right away. Bryce helped. Today, he brought Mark’s clothes to Goodwill. It wasn’t easy. But we both knew that clearing space might help us breathe again. 🤍 Why It Felt Different I kept wondering: Why was it harder to leave my mother’s house than...