The Night Before Four

Grief and Life continue to blend together, 4 years later.

Tonight is the night before my youngest daughter’s 4th birthday. What is normally a night of bittersweet reflection — tucking in my sweet three-year-old before she wakes up as a four-year-old tomorrow — I am also acutely aware that it marks four years since I last saw my mom.

If you aren’t familiar with my grief journey, I feel the need to share how deeply grief and joy, death and life, are woven into my story. It is no coincidence, I think, that I went on to become the Editor-in-Chief of a grief magazine built entirely around finding joy after loss. I didn’t choose that mission from a place of theory. I chose it because I lived it — and I am still living it.

My daughter was born a full month early, during the height of COVID precautions. I tested positive asymptomatically, as did my husband. What I thought would be the most traumatic birth story for the books turned out to be merely the appetizer for what was to come.

Due to hospital protocol, my husband wasn’t allowed to enter until he tested negative, and I was left to abandon my birth plan, panicking alone — until my mom arrived as a negative-testing support person. By the time she got there, my hopes for a VBAC had long since sailed, and I was told I needed an emergency C-section. My daughter was born healthy, yet due to circumstance, was whisked away to the NICU, where she would remain in isolation until I tested negative.

The following day, my husband tested negative and was welcomed with open arms. I had to release my mom from duty. At the time, she was preparing for a trip to Italy, and asked me with sincerity — should I cancel? I laughed. “No, go. By the time you come home, this will all be behind us, and you can babysit for us.” She walked out, and that image is burned into my mind.

Three days passed. I had several FaceTime calls with my daughter on the other side of a screen, a feeding tube attached to her tiny body. I was emotionally numb — in disbelief that I had given birth a full month early and had yet to officially meet her. The day I finally tested negative, they told me I could go down to the NICU at 1 a.m. I remember wheeling down the hallway in tears, barely able to believe I was finally going to meet my baby.

That happiness — that masked photo snapshot — quickly turned to wails in the hallway when I received a phone call that my mom, upon arriving in Italy, had died suddenly and unexpectedly at the age of 57.

Nothing made sense. I found myself craving sleep just to escape, and yet when I woke up, the nightmare started all over again.

Now, four years out, I find myself tucking in my daughter, filled with joy watching her grow into the person she is — while a quiet ache in my bones reminds me that my mom is missing all of it. I am typically someone who navigates grief with its ebbs and flows, someone who leans into the joy. But that doesn’t mean I have forgotten what the pain and the loss feel like.

So much debate exists in the grief space about where we’re supposed to land, how we’re supposed to feel, what healing is meant to look like. I sit with that debate every day — in my own life, and in the pages of the magazine I lead. And my answer has not changed.

Grief sucks. Life doesn’t have to.

I said what I said. Four years since I last saw my mom, and I will continue to echo that into eternity — in this life, and in every issue we publish.

Tomorrow will be tinged with a twinge of sadness. But we will go to the zoo, celebrate, take photos, eat cake — and I will forever see my mom inside the smile of my little girl, Laura’s granddaughter.

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Kera Sanchez is the Founder and Editor-in-Chief of Get Griefy Magazine. A certified Grief and Resilience Expert, she brings more than 15 years of experience in secondary education to her work as an advocate, educator, and thought leader in the grief space. Kera is also the 2025 Talk Death People’s Choice Award winner for Grief Educator of the Year.

Passionate about transforming the way we talk about grief and loss, Kera approaches these conversations with honesty, relatability, and boldness. Through her writing, speaking, and educational work, she helps normalize grief, foster resilience, and create meaningful connections for those navigating loss. Her mission and voice are at the heart of everything she does at Get Griefy Magazine.