My mom died last month, and I spent two weeks dreading the funeral. As if it weren’t enough to navigate my own grief after the greatest loss I’ve ever experienced, my sadness would be on display as we attempted to celebrate her life in a way that did justice to the incredible person she was and the indelible impact she made.
What I didn’t anticipate was how supported I would feel—how buoyed I’d be—by the people who showed up. The church was packed to the brim with 260 people, and another 30 devices joined remotely. More than 200 came to the party (my mom loved a good party!) that followed.
It wasn’t just the number of people that overwhelmed me—it was who filled those seats. My mom’s friends and former coworkers, of course, but also people from my world: current and former colleagues, neighbors, friends who flew in from across the country. Seeing them all in one place—people connected to different chapters of both our lives—felt like witnessing the web of love and community that had quietly formed around us over the years. It reminded me of the incredible village that surrounds and sustains my family.
As I moved through the crowd, giving hugs through tears, I found myself saying over and over again, “Wow, I can’t believe you came.” Words can’t express how touched I was, or how grateful. I will never forget the people who were there for us in our darkest hour.
I know how easy it is to hesitate when someone dies—to worry you’ll say the wrong thing, or that showing up will feel awkward if it’s been a while. But I’m here to tell you: Being there matters. Whether you attend the funeral, send a card, or pick up the phone, your presence—literal or figurative—can be a lifeline. It might feel small to you, but it will mean everything to those who are grieving.
I expected to end the day hollowed out by loss. Instead, I ended it feeling grateful, uplifted, and cared for. Grief was still there, of course—but it was held by love.
That’s the power of showing up: It reminds us that even in life’s hardest moments, we don’t walk alone. What I’ll remember most about the day we said goodbye to my mom isn’t the sorrow, but the grace of being surrounded by the people who gave us the gift of their presence.
Christa Meland is the social media director and newsletter editor for End in Mind.
