“The Cost of Loving You”: When Words Aren’t Enough, Showing Up in Grief
Grief is never easy, and when someone we love experiences loss, it can be hard to know how to help. This is a story about loss, love, and the simple ways we can show up for each other even when words aren’t enough. If you are navigating miscarriage, pregnancy loss, or the heartbreak of grief, know that you are not alone.
At the beginning of this year, one of my nieces went through a devastating miscarriage. My heart broke with her. She’s experienced several losses over the past couple of years, and it brought back so many memories of my own journey with miscarriages. The waiting, the hoping, the planning, and then the heartache when dreams shatter.
Mourn With Those That Mourn
In the middle of her grief, she sent a message to our extended family. She asked for letters and cards for her, her husband, and her kids to help remember their precious baby boy. It was such a thoughtful and beautiful idea. Sometimes, when someone we love is hurting, it’s hard to know how to help, what to say, or how to show up. This invitation gave us a way to share our love and honor her baby’s life in a real, tangible way. Some of my kids wrote letters, and we put together a small gift to take to her and her children.
After she came home from the hospital, we went to visit. We sat on the couch and cried together. I wished I had been a better friend, a better aunt, all the things! I wanted to take away her pain, to fix what could never be fixed, to say the right thing, but mostly, I just sat with her and let the tears come. As I listened to her share her story, my heart ached all over again. It ached for her and for every mother who has walked through this impossible, lonely kind of grief.
Acts of Courage in Everyday Grief
Her loss was so devastating, yet she was impossibly strong and resilient, even when she didn’t feel that way. That’s the thing about grief, sometimes just showing up, breathing, and getting out of bed is an act of courage and strength. As I left her and her two kids that day, I offered to write her a song. She looked at me and simply said, “I would love it.”
As the weeks passed, the weight of that promise settled heavily on me. How could I possibly write a song that would do justice to the love, the loss, and the swirl of feelings my sweet niece was experiencing? I prayed for guidance and tried to listen, but nothing came. I would sit and ponder, searching for the right words and melody, frustrated that I couldn’t find them. Her due date was approaching, and I wanted so badly to have something ready for her. A small gift of love and remembrance that would say, “I see you. I love you. Your baby is not forgotten.”
The week before he would have been due, I woke up in the middle of the night with words in my mind, clear and simple. I quietly began to write them down. The next morning, I picked up my ukulele and began to sing. Most of the time when I write a song, it takes me a while to put the melody and words together, but this time, it was different. The song poured out, and the next few days were just about some fine-tuning; like it had been waiting for me all along.
A Tender Moment of Music and Healing
On his due date, Hillary and I invited her over to our house. It was intimate and private, just a quiet moment carved out of the day. She was having a sacred day, surrounded by the love of all her family, and I was grateful to share a few minutes with her. We sat together in the living room, and as we sang, tears rolled down our faces. It felt like a message written for her, for me, and for anyone who has experienced love followed by loss. Sometimes, I feel like I am not writing music so much as remembering it, like it was already there, waiting to be shared. It was a tender and sacred experience. One I will never forget.
Comfort those who stand in need of comfort
If you are walking through the valley of loss, I want you to know you are not alone. Your grief matters. Your love is real, and it is eternal. Sometimes, the only thing we can do is sit together in the hard and let the tears come, letting our hearts remember, letting ourselves love. There are people who care, who are willing to sit with you, mourn with you, and help you remember that even in the hardest moments.
I am grateful for music and the gentle way it helps us express what words alone cannot say. I am grateful for the chance to honor the lives of those we have lost, and for the reminder that even in loss, love remains. If you know someone who might find comfort in these words, please feel free to share this with them. Sometimes, just knowing we aren’t alone in our grief can make a difference.
Original Song by Bonnie Walker
Performed by Bonnie and Hillary Walker
Listen to “The Cost of Loving You”
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