My daughter died two and a half years ago and it feels like yesterday. I am not better; I’m just getting used to feeling this way.

The sights and smells and sounds of the holidays are constant interruptions, annoyances and reminders of times past; we wish this holiday stuff would just go away.

This grieving parent doesn’t want to be asked what I'm thankful for.

I used to love this time of the year. Now it's like rubbing salt in an open wound.

What I have seen and heard and felt over these past two years reinforces my belief in the human spirit and its power.

As a bereaved parent, I must remain diligent in paying attention to my feelings so as not to fall into the trap of self-pity while remembering to care for myself emotionally. We walk a thin line.

How many times do we have to get up, put one foot in front of the other and get on with it? When does the grief process end?

It’s been two years since our eight year old daughter died. The only thing that has changed is our ability to pretend in the real world that we are ok. It is a façade.

How do you help your young child face their own mortality?

I call it the ball and jar analogy. Often I find myself referring back to it when I need help with my grieving, which includes my levels of patience and tolerance. This is my interpretation.