In this episode of Always Andy's Mom, Luna returns for a new conversation—one shaped by time, lived experience, and the quiet ways grief continues to unfold.

Years ago, Luna signed a letter to her son Hunter with words that have stayed with me since reading her book, Look Mom, I Can Fly. She signed it:

Love,
Your devastated, aching, flailing, vulnerable, wrecked,
and resilient Mama.

Those words hold so much of what it means to live after the loss of a child.

When Luna first joined the podcast, she was only weeks into her grief after Hunter died suddenly while he was sleeping. Even then, she carried a rare clarity—an understanding that grief does not need to be fixed, rushed, or hidden.

Now, five years later, we talk about how grief lives in the body, how healing asks us to listen differently, and how moments of peace sometimes arrive quietly, without explanation. Luna shares how she honors her emotions as they come and how love continues to show itself through small signs and deep presence.

Luna closes the episode by reading her poem "Signs," from her book Look Mom, I Can Fly, written from Hunter's perspective. It is tender, powerful, and filled with the kind of love that does not end.

This episode is a reminder that grief is full of contradictions—that we can be devastated and resilient, wrecked and still growing.

Some things remain.
Some things grow.
Both can be true.

In this episode of Always Andy's Mom, Marcy is joined by Melinda, a mother whose love for her son, Cody, continues to quietly shape the way she lives, grieves, and remembers. Melinda reflects on how Cody's life changed her family for the better—how his presence deepened their compassion, softened their hearts, and continues to guide them forward even after his death.

Melinda shares the story of the day her world changed, the confusion and shock that followed, and the unexpected moments of peace that met her in the midst of profound grief. She speaks honestly about how grief looks different for each member of a family, especially as her husband wrestled with guilt and trauma, and how love—patient, steady love—became the thing that carried them through.

Seven years into her grief journey, Melinda describes learning how to live in the love rather than the pain, allowing space for sorrow without being consumed by it. She talks about journaling as a way to stay connected to Cody, the meaning she found in small signs and moments, and the comfort that arrived exactly when it was needed most.

Rather than grand gestures, Melinda honors her son in quiet, intentional ways—anonymous acts of kindness, simple remembrances, and choices rooted in who he was and what he would have wanted. Her story is a reminder that there is no timeline for grief, no right way to carry loss, and no measure for how deeply love can continue after death.

This conversation offers a tender look at how grief evolves, how peace can arrive unexpectedly, and how love—when held gently—can still make us better.

In this episode of the Always Andy's Mom Podcast, I'm joined by Taylor, a grieving father who shares the story of his son, Ray, who was stillborn late in pregnancy.

Taylor talks about the moment fatherhood became real for him — feeling Ray kick for the first time — and the joy and anticipation that followed a healthy 20-week scan. Then, at 27 weeks, everything changed. Ray's heartbeat was gone. Taylor and his wife went through labor and delivery knowing there would be no living baby at the end, followed by precious time holding their son and saying goodbye.

Taylor speaks openly about the emotions that came next: the anger that surprised him, the fear that the world no longer felt safe, and the weight of realizing that some things cannot be fixed. As a father, he felt the pressure to stay strong, even while grieving deeply himself.

One of the most moving parts of this conversation is how Taylor found healing through an unexpected outlet. At the suggestion of his wife, he taught himself how to crochet using yarn that had been purchased for Ray. What started as a simple way to stay busy became a form of connection and comfort. With each stitch, Taylor found a way to honor his son, quiet his thoughts, and give his grief somewhere to go.

Today, Taylor continues to crochet — creating hats, keepsakes, and donations — each piece carrying love, remembrance, and Ray's presence forward.

This episode is a powerful reminder that grief doesn't disappear, but it can transform. Healing sometimes comes not through words, but through the work of our hands.