Holding Gratitude and Grief at the Same Time

On Tuesday night, we ordered Chinese food for dinner. Nothing fancy—just one of those simple, comforting meals you go to when you don’t have the energy for anything else. When I opened my fortune cookie, I found a message that stopped me more than it probably should have:

“Wednesday will be the day to express gratitude for the blessings in your life.”

It was one of those moments where the universe taps you on the shoulder—softly, but unmistakably.

Gratitude has been… complicated for me this year. It’s something I’m still learning to navigate.

As many people close to me know, I lost my son Alex earlier this year. That pain still sits in my chest every single day. There hasn’t been a morning I’ve woken up or a night I’ve gone to bed without thinking about him—missing him, talking to him, wishing with everything in me that he was still here. Losing a child isn’t something you “move on” from. It becomes a part of you, a shadow that stretches across every corner of life.

But when I read that fortune, something shifted. Not in a big, dramatic way—just a small reminder that even in grief, there are still things worth noticing. Still things worth holding. Still things worth thanking life for.

Because even through the heartbreak, I do have blessings.

I have my son Jason, who I love more than anything and who continues to remind me what it means to show up for life, even when it’s hard.
I have an incredible partner in Kat—someone who doesn’t try to fix my pain, but who sits with me through it. Someone who loves me, understands me, and gives me strength without even realizing she’s doing it.
And I have a small, tight-knit group of friends who are far more than friends. They’re brothers—chosen family—the kind of people who show up, keep showing up, and don’t need an explanation for the days when grief is heavier than usual.

And then yesterday, while reflecting on all of this, I came across a reel that hit me right in the center of my chest:

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It was about connection. About people who hold space for you simply by being who they are. And as I watched it, I felt this swell of gratitude—not just for the people in my life, but for the fact that I have people like this.

Because the truth is… not everyone does.

Not everyone has a partner who understands them.
Not everyone has a child they can hug.
Not everyone has friends who show up without being asked.
Not everyone has someone to call when the grief hits out of nowhere.

And it breaks my heart to think of how many people move through this world without that kind of love or support.

So maybe the fortune cookie wasn’t just a coincidence. Maybe it was a reminder I needed—a permission slip to feel grateful even in the middle of my grief. To acknowledge both truths at once:

I miss Alex with every part of me. And I am also blessed in ways that matter deeply.

That’s the strange, beautiful, painful thing about being human.
We don’t choose one or the other—we learn to carry both.

And today, I’m choosing to honor the gratitude.
For Jason.
For Kat.
For my brothers.
For every person who has stood beside me in my darkest days.
For the love that still exists in my life, even after a loss that changed everything.

If you’re reading this and you do have those people—hold them close. Tell them. Thank them. Notice them.

And if you’re someone who doesn’t… my heart is with you. I genuinely mean that.

Maybe gratitude starts with a whisper.
Maybe it starts with a fortune cookie.
Maybe it starts with simply recognizing that even in the depths of grief, we are still capable of receiving love—and still deserving of it.