Grief Has No Age Limit

Cards we used last night

Last night I had the honor of reading Caitlin’s Star to a widows support group of more than 35 women.

While I originally wrote this book to help children understand the loss of a loved one, I continue to be humbled by how deeply it resonates with adults as well.

After the reading, I invited everyone to take a note card and write the name of someone they love who has passed, and to imagine what their “Heavenly Job” might be. I told them they didn’t need to share — but almost everyone did.

 

I heard:
⭐ meatball maker
⭐ fisherman
⭐ party planner
⭐ playing cards
⭐ leading a team
…and so many more.

When it was my turn, I shared my Heavenly Jobs too:
✨ My brother-in-law - allocating the striped bass limit for this season’s run
✨ My mom - lighting the stars to keep the lights on
✨ My father - singing in the heavenly choir

These small, loving images brought warmth and smiles, and reminded us that the people we miss still shine in the stories we tell.

At the end of the evening, I asked everyone to hold on to their card as a reminder of their loved one,  a small but powerful way to keep their light close.

There were some tears, laughter, quiet reflection, long hugs, and so much love in that room. I was deeply moved by the strength, honesty, and tenderness these women shared with one another and with me, a stranger. I left humbled and grateful.

 Caitlin’s Star may be a children’s book, but last night reminded me that grief has no age limit and neither does love.

©     Love doesn’t disappear. It simply changes form.

©     We heal when we speak names and share stories

Thank you to these incredible women for welcoming me so generously and trusting me with your memories. You touched my heart.

©     Caitlin’s Star — A keepsake story of love, loss, and memory 

Last night I had the honor of reading Caitlin’s Star to a widows support group of more than 35 women.

While I originally wrote this book to help children understand the loss of a loved one, I continue to be humbled by how deeply it resonates with adults as well.

After the reading, I invited everyone to take a note card and write the name of someone they love who has passed, and to imagine what their “Heavenly Job” might be. I told them they didn’t need to share — but almost everyone did.

I heard:
⭐ meatball maker
⭐ fisherman
⭐ party planner
⭐ playing cards
⭐ leading a team
…and so many more.

When it was my turn, I shared my Heavenly Jobs too:
✨ My brother-in-law - allocating the striped bass limit for this season’s run
✨ My mom - lighting the stars to keep the lights on
✨ My father - singing in the heavenly choir

These small, loving images brought warmth and smiles, and reminded us that the people we miss still shine in the stories we tell.

At the end of the evening, I asked everyone to hold on to their card as a reminder of their loved one — a small but powerful way to keep their light close.

There were tears, laughter, quiet reflection, long hugs, and so much love in that room. I was deeply moved by the strength, honesty, and tenderness these women shared with one another — and with me. I left humbled and grateful.

 Caitlin’s Star may be a children’s book, but last night reminded me that grief has no age limit — and neither does love.

©     Love doesn’t disappear. It simply changes form.

©     We heal when we speak names and share stories

Thank you to these incredible women for welcoming me so generously and trusting me with your memories. You touched my heart.

©     Caitlin’s Star — A keepsake story of love, loss, and memory
👉 https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FWMK6HWV

If you feel comfortable, I would be honored if you shared a loved one’s name or their Heavenly Job in the comments.