No Casseroles, No Ceremony: Grieving a Loss That Isn’t a Death

No Casseroles, No Ceremony: Grieving a Loss That Isn’t a Death

There are losses that bring casseroles and cards. Losses with ceremony. Obituaries. Open weeping. They come with societal permission to grieve.

And then there are other losses.

Losses that come with silence. With confusion. With assumptions and shame. With no rituals, no visits, no kind words. Just space—gutted and hollow.

That’s the kind of grief parental alienation creates.

When your children are alive, but unreachable…When their eyes no longer see you the same way…When love still burns in your chest but can’t find its way to their hearts…It feels like death. Except no one brings food. No one says, “I’m sorry for your loss.” Most don’t even understand what you’ve lost.

But you know.

You know that your world shifted. You know what it’s like to cry into a pillow for someone still living.
To scroll back through old pictures as if they were tombstones.
To question who you are when the name “Mom” or “Dad” no longer sounds like love.

This Grief Deserves Space

You have the right to mourn what’s been stolen.

You have the right to speak what was silenced.
You have the right to name this—not just as confusion, or heartbreak—but as grief. Because that’s what it is.

And naming it doesn’t mean you’ve given up. It means you’re telling the truth.

A Quiet Memorial

So this post is a kind of eulogy.
Not for your children—but for the connection that was taken, for the moments you missed, for the special occasions you only witnessed through photos or not at all, for the version of your life you dreamed of but didn’t get to live.

This is your moment to light a candle in your own heart and say:

“That mattered. That was real. That was love. And that was loss.”

And Still…Hope still lives.
Love is not so easily destroyed.
And hearts that have been turned can still be turned back.

You may never get the “closure” others are given. But you can still heal.
You can still reclaim your voice.
You can still live a life filled with purpose, peace, and love that flows outward—even when it can’t return the way you long for.

Because even when no one else understood what you were mourning…God did.

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” – Psalm 34:18