Grieve Leave Community Blog: Finding Mindfulness After My Husband's Death by Suicide

Grief changes you. It pulls you into a world that you never wanted to enter, filled with questions that you’ll never fully answer. It doesn’t just take away the person you love; it takes parts of you, too. When I lost my husband, Sean, my partner for nearly 17 years, my world turned upside down in an instant.

Sean was a complex person. He was thoughtful, funny, and smart, and I was his biggest fan. But, he also carried a quiet pain, struggling with depression and anxiety in ways that I couldn’t always see. As an orthopedic surgeon in the Army, he felt immense pressure to be strong, to show no weakness. Looking back now, I understand how that heaviness must have isolated him, making it hard to ask for help.

On September 30, 2022, Sean took his own life. That moment split my life in two: before and after. Suddenly, I was not only a grieving wife, but also a solo parent to three young kids who had just lost their dad. The days and the weeks that followed were a blur of logistics, shock, and survival. I called this time the “post tragedy clean up”. I put all my energy into making sure the kids were okay— getting them connected with therapists and other resources, keeping up with their activities, and trying to bring back a sense of stability and security to their lives. I wanted to shield them from my own pain, but grief has a way of showing up, no matter how hard you try to ignore it.

For months, I was running on empty. I wasn’t thinking about my own healing. I didn’t care if I found joy again. I just wanted my kids to be happy. But one day, I read somewhere that the outcomes for children who’ve experienced trauma are largely dependent upon the coping skills and resilience of their mothers. This was a turning point for me. I realized that if I didn’t take care of myself, I wouldn’t be able to take care of them. I needed to process my emotions without letting them consume me.

That’s when I went back to the mindfulness tools that I had always leaned on and began integrating them intentionally into my life again. Fortunately, the kids and I had had a solid mindfulness practice in place years before Sean passed away. When he died, those practices ultimately became a lifeline for us. I didn’t need to teach or force mindfulness; we had already built it into our lives, so it felt natural to us.

I began re-sharing these practices with my kids in small ways— deep breaths before bed to calm down, sharing gratitude at dinner to remind ourselves to find the good, and connecting with nature when we needed grounding. One of the hardest but most meaningful conversations we had after Sean died was about his mental health. I asked the kids to imagine the color inside their minds. They described vibrant rainbows, greens, and yellows. Then I explained that for their dad, it wasn’t like that anymore. That his mind probably looked black and grey, and he might have felt trapped there, in darkness. It was difficult but necessary because I needed them to understand that their dad’s struggles were not about them. I needed them to know that he loved them even when he couldn’t show it.

Mindfulness has allowed us to process our feelings, accept all the emotions of grief, the good, the bad, and the ugly- sadness, anger, confusion, jealousy- and ultimately begin to heal. Through our mindful practices, we’ve found ways to hold space for both grief and hope. Grief is no longer something that we fight against, it’s something that we’ve learned to live with. We’ve learned to find moments of joy even in the hardest times— Friday sushi nights, family trips, music, and being outside.

This journey hasn’t been easy, and I know it’s far from over. Grief doesn’t have an endpoint; it evolves, showing up in your life in new ways. But through mindfulness, I’ve learned to embrace grief with compassion. I’ve learned that healing isn’t about moving on, it’s about moving forward with the pain, making room for both sadness and light.

I now share Sean’s story and our family’s experience to help others on their own grief journeys. Whether I’m supporting a grieving parent, sharing tools to navigate hard days, or speaking to groups about mindfulness and mental health, my mission is the same: to remind people that healing is possible, even after trauma and loss.

Sean might not have fully understood mindfulness during his life, but he knew how important it was to me. I think he’d see this work as a way of honoring his memory, helping others feel less alone, less afraid, and more connected to themselves and their loved ones.

Grief is messy, layered, and lifelong. But my kids and I are proof that even in the darkest moments, there’s a way to find light. Through mindfulness, I’ve learned to let my emotions guide me without defining me. Through my work, I aim to inspire others to hold onto hope and keep going because there is a way to live with grief and still find joy.

Reshma Kearney