Almost Three Years Later: Still Grieving, Still Growing

By The Grieving Grandma

It’s been almost three years since I first shared the story of my grandson Eric—his life, his death, and the grief that followed. That original blog was written in raw pain, with the hope that someone, somewhere, would feel less alone. Today, I return not because the pain is gone, but because my grief journey has transformed into something new: advocacy, reflection, and the ongoing effort to turn loss into legacy.

Grief That Evolves, Not Ends

Grief doesn’t disappear with time. It evolves. It becomes part of us, changing the way we move through the world. In the years since I last wrote, I’ve learned to carry my grief with more grace—but it’s always there, a shadow stitched to joy.

There are still days I can’t breathe from missing him. But now, there are also days when I feel proud—proud of how we’ve honoured Eric, proud of the work that has grown from our heartbreak, and proud of how I’ve kept moving forward, even when it hurt.

The Eric Elliott Memorial Scholarship: Turning Grief into Growth

One of the most powerful ways we’ve chosen to honour Eric’s life is through the Eric Elliott Memorial Scholarship. This fund supports students studying in the fields of hospice, palliative care, grief work, and end-of-life support—people who will bring comfort and compassion to others in their most vulnerable moments.

Each scholarship given is an act of love. Each recipient becomes a part of Eric’s legacy. It’s our way of saying: his life mattered, and he will continue to make a difference in the world.

Becoming a Death Doula: A Path That Became Personal

I began my training to become a Death Doula and Personal Support Worker before Eric died. Even then, I felt called to walk alongside others at the end of life. But after losing Eric, everything changed. The work became deeply personal.

Completing my training after his passing gave me a new perspective. I understood grief in a way no textbook could teach. I understood the silence, the weight, the longing. Now, when I support families through dying, death, and loss, I carry that understanding with me.

This work has become part of my healing—and my advocacy. It’s a way of honouring Eric by offering others the tenderness and presence every grieving family deserves.

For the Grieving Grandmas

To the other grandmas grieving grandchildren: I see you.

We’re members of a club we never wanted to join. But you are not alone. Our grief may be invisible to others, but it is real. Our love is fierce. Our losses are profound. And our voices matter.

You are allowed to cry in public. You are allowed to smile again. You are allowed to say their names over and over. There is no “right” way to grieve. There is only your way. I hope my journey helps you feel just a little less isolated on yours.

Moving Forward with Love and Purpose

As Eric’s birthday approaches again, I am reminded of how much has changed—and how much hasn’t. I still miss him every day. I still wish things were different. But I also feel stronger. More connected. More purposeful.

We don’t move on. We move forward, step by step, memory by memory, heartache by heartache—always holding space for the love that remains.

Thank you to the Home Hospice Association for giving me a voice, helping me through Eric’s death and thank you to those who read and remember Eric with me.

Love & Hugs,

Tammy

Aka: TheGrievingGrandma

You can follow her story and advocacy on Instagram @thegrievinggrandma.