• My husband died in 2019 after we returned from a trip to celebrate my 40th birthday.

• I was left alone to parent our two kids, who were younger than 3.

• We talk about him often, on his birthday, Father's Day, and other special occasions.

"Mommy," my daughter said, "am I going to get a new daddy?"

Talk about a punch to the gut.

My husband — and the love of my life — Mark, passed away unexpectedly the day after Thanksgiving 2019. We had two children younger than 3, and we had just returned from a whirlwind romantic trip to Bordeaux, France, to celebrate my 40th birthday. How could we go from the best week of our lives to the worst that fast?

Adjusting to solo parenting is still a daily challenge for me, but one of the greatest support systems I have is my friend network.

More days than not, the group text chain, playfully called the Juju Cult of No Bad Feelings, helps me stay grounded and supported in ways that I otherwise wouldn't experience. It's the place where we get to have raw, real — even cringey — conversations that other people might shy away from.

Cringe with a side of relief

When Mark died, people rallied to support us. But as time went on, especially with holidays, birthdays, and special occasions, people were afraid to say the wrong thing and ignored the subject altogether to tiptoe around my grief.

This felt isolating because I was hurting and unsure how to ask for help, while others were afraid of overstepping or triggering me. Inadvertently, I felt abandoned when I needed people the most. That's where the text chain has become my saving grace.

Last month, one of my kids' schools was considering doing away with Mother's Day celebrations and instead focusing on a "special-adult" craft. Most of my friends lauded this as inclusive, which I appreciate.

In the spirit of "no bad feelings," I shared with the Juju Culters that if my kids didn't make me something at school for Mother's Day, then I wouldn't get anything and the day would pass as any other Sunday. It's usually partners who corral the kids to make Mother's Day special, so for solo moms who don't have that support, the day can go unrecognized altogether — another reminder of something you're missing out on.

In this text conversation, one of my friends took a pickax to the iceberg in the room and asked me, "How would you want me to approach Father's Day? What would you want us to do?"

Creating and normalizing this dialogue between my friends and family was important in continuing to support us after our traumatic loss, even years later. This question made me think differently about the situation.

Building our traditions

This answer is personal to each family facing a similar situation. Be willing to ask each family what they want, without judgment of their response.

For us, we talk about Mark often. The kids have cake on his birthday, we talk about how Daddy sits on the moon, and we blow kisses to him every night.

Our family and friends can support us by engaging in these activities and participating in some of Mark's favorite pastimes with the kids, telling them stories about their incredible father. For other families, this might feel like too much, and perhaps they would feel best supported by doing something that takes everyone's minds off the day.

Both requests — and any in between — are completely valid. The key is to be willing to ask questions.

We're still finding what works for us, and as the kids continue to grow, I'm sure these things will evolve. But one thing is for sure, my kids will always have a support network of people ready to celebrate their dad.

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