The Quiet Work of Remembering: How Leigh’s Story Became My Way Forward

There is a specific kind of silence that settles in a home after you lose a child. It’s a silence that feels heavy, and for a long time, I wasn’t sure how to breathe through it, let alone speak into it. If you are reading this and you know that silence, please know I am holding space in my heart for you. I’m not an expert on grief, I’m just a mother who loved and lost my darling son.

A year after Leigh passed, the fear of forgetting became overwhelming. I didn't want to forget the way his eyes sparkled or the specific lessons he taught me about resilience. I started writing "Leigh, My Amazing Son" because I needed to anchor his life to the page. And it was also his wish to tell his life story.

I found that as I wrote his biography, through the tears, the act of putting pen to paper was like a conversation with him. It didn't take the pain away, but it gave the pain a purpose. It allowed me to process his passing by first celebrating his "living."

Leigh, smiling and putting on a brave face after another surgery.

To the mothers walking this path alongside me: Our children’s stories don't end when they leave us. Sometimes, the most healing thing we can do is to say their names out loud or write down a small, precious detail that only a mother knows.

If you feel comfortable, I would be honoured to hear a little bit about your child or how you have found ways to keep their memory alive. Whether it’s a sentence in the comments or a quiet thought in your heart, your story, and theirs, matters deeply.