Grief in the Joyful Moments

We went to Newcastle for J’s 24th birthday recently. He took us to a little music festival at The Hamilton Hotel, which the hubby and I enjoyed way more than we expected! I was initially surprised that he wanted us to tag along but I was beaming that he wanted us to go with him. It was so much fun and surprisingly we weren't the oldest people there. We had such a great couple of days, it was one of those weekends full of laughter and good company.

Then the following weekend, we had a combined birthday party for our son J and our daughter J, who just turned 32. Our 2nd daughter came for the weekend. The party was a beautiful night surrounded by family and friends — the kind of night that fills you up. A wonderful night. Music, drinks, food and lots of laughter.

The next morning, while scrolling through photos from the night before, it hit me...

Sean wasn’t there.

Not at the music festival.
Not at the party.
Not in a single photo.

Not for any of it.

That familiar ache came rushing in —
the kind that never truly leaves.
It waits quietly beneath the surface,
until it rises, suddenly,
and spills out through your eyes.

The tears came, heavy and fast —
not just tears, but heartbreak.

While I was so happy to celebrate my other kids (and they absolutely deserve to be celebrated), there was no escaping the weight of who was missing. His absence was loud. A huge presence not there. And it struck me hard — like a ton of bricks.

Grief is like that. It sneaks up, even in the happiest moments. Especially in them.

Grief walks beside us, even through the joy.
And that’s okay — it just means there is so much love.