There are moments after your mom dies when you realize you’re carrying more than grief.
In many ways, you’re carrying distance you can’t undo, conversations you wish you’d had, and a longing for comfort that feels strangely childlike—even if you’re grown. You can know, in your head, that she’s at peace, and still feel that sting in your chest when you think, I wish I could talk to her one more time.
Jamie grew up in a large family—nine kids, with him right in the middle. He remembers his mom as loving and nurturing, the one who held the family together with tenderness, while his dad was more of the disciplinarian. But life became complicated over the years. A difficult season in his first marriage caused him to become disconnected from his family for a long time. He wasn’t calling much. He wasn’t showing up much. And he carries the regret of lost time.
Then Jamie faced another kind of heartbreak: losing his son. That loss plunged him into a deep depression. He recounts six years of feeling completely lost. When his mom later became ill—with small strokes, missed medications, and a steady decline—and then died after a late diagnosis of pancreatic cancer, Jamie felt the pain of losing her. But he also experienced something else: he knew she was no longer suffering.
Even when you know a death is coming, the loss still hurts.
What makes Jamie’s story especially meaningful is what happened next. He didn’t just mourn his mom—he started to search. He began reaching out to God. Gradually, he realized that grief can become the place where faith stops being secondhand and starts becoming personal.
Here are three parts of Jamie’s journey that may help you find God in your grief after losing your mom.
Jamie is honest about what happened after he lost his son. He didn’t just feel sad—he lost his zest for life. He describes a season when he didn’t care about much of anything. If you’ve felt that way after losing your mom—even a little—you know how disorienting it can be. You can still go to work, still handle the basics, and yet inside you feel hollow, numb, and tired of trying.
Jamie also learned that grief doesn’t move through neat “stages.” Sometimes everything hits at once. Sometimes it comes in waves. Sometimes you look fine on the outside while feeling stuck on the inside.
That word stuck matters. Grief becomes a dead end when we try to live in it rather than walk through it.
If you’re trying to find God after losing your mom, this is often where it begins—not with having the right words, but with telling the truth about where you are.
A few practical ways to start:
For Jamie, grief exposed how much he needed steadiness beyond himself. He couldn’t outwork the pain or ignore it into submission. Eventually, he had to face it—and that created space for God to do something new.
Jamie grew up around church, but he described something many people relate to: God felt real, but far away. And after enough loss, that kind of distance doesn’t help much. When you’re hurting, you don’t only want information about God—you want the presence of God.
Jamie’s turning point wasn’t instant. It was a slow search. He started going back to church, reading Scripture, and trying to understand what it means to know the Lord—not just believe He exists.
He remembered something his mom used to say: “You get out of church what you put into it.” Even while his pain was still raw, that became part of his next step.
As Jamie began to understand God’s love more deeply, he described it like this: “It felt like God wrapping His arms around me, saying, ‘I love you, and it’s going to be okay.’”
If you’re early in grief, that might sound impossible. You might think, I don’t feel anything. I can’t even pray. I’m angry. I’m numb. If that’s you, you’re not disqualified. You’re human.
Here are a few gentle ways to begin searching without pretending you’re okay:
Jamie said something simple and honest: “Grief without the Lord feels hopeless.” When you believe there’s nothing beyond this life, death can feel like a locked door. But as he began to trust God’s promises, hope returned—not shallow optimism, but steady confidence that death is not the end.
One of the hardest parts of grief is how isolating it can become. Jamie describes seasons of being mostly by himself—especially when relationships were strained, and he didn’t know how to reconnect. But his story also shows how healing often grows in community, even when it starts imperfectly.
After his mom died, Jamie began joining a family tradition that his mom had started: Tuesday night dinners. At those dinners, the family laughs about stories, remembers her quirks, and keeps her presence woven into their lives. It’s simple, but meaningful—a reminder that grief doesn’t erase connection. It reshapes it.
Later, Jamie and his wife began leading a GriefShare group. He talked about how helping others walk through grief kept him moving forward. He also mentioned something that stands out: watching people change—watching someone arrive in pain and slowly begin to breathe again.
That’s one of the quiet gifts of grief support. It gives you a place where your pain is understood, your questions are allowed, and your healing has room to unfold.
A few practical ways to lean into community:
Jamie’s story isn’t about having a perfect relationship with his mom—or handling her death without struggle. It’s about what happens when grief opens your hands and you finally reach for something stronger than your own strength.
If you see yourself in Jamie’s story—feeling regret, feeling raw, feeling unsure how to connect with God—there is a path forward. You don’t have to manufacture faith. You can start by telling the truth and taking one small step.
If you’re looking for help that is both practical and hope-filled, consider connecting with a GriefShare group. Many people find that grief support gives them language for what they’re experiencing and helps them keep moving forward without minimizing their loss. You’ll meet others who understand, and you’ll find encouragement rooted in God’s promises.
You can also find encouragement and practical tips for living forward in Living Without Mom. Discover biblical encouragement, real stories, and practical support for the unique ache of living in a world where you can’t call your mom anymore.