It Wasn’t Just Me Who Lost Her
A Grief Reflection by Kinyatta Gray, Founder of The Heart of Miss Bee, Inc.
When I lost my mother, Miss Bee, it felt like someone had reached into my back and pulled my heart out through my spine.
It was sharp. Unrelenting. World-altering. And in the thick of it — the tears, the silence, the memories that came without warning — I believed I was the one hurting the most. Because that was my mother. My best friend. My safety. My first home.
And maybe, on a deep level, that’s true.
But somewhere in the quiet… I realized something that broke me all over again:
I wasn’t the only one who lost her.
Grief has a way of blinding you — making your own pain feel so all-consuming that you can’t even fathom someone else’s. And to be fair, when your heart is shattered into a thousand pieces, it’s hard to think about anyone else’s cuts and bruises.
But slowly — gently — it hit me.
Julie lost her too.
My spouse. People thought my mom might have had a problem with our same-sex marriage, but the truth is, my mother loved Julie. Deeply. They laughed together. They confided in one another. They were friends.
Julie lost someone who made her feel seen. She didn’t just lose a mother-in-law — she lost a real connection. She needed space to grieve, to process, to be held too. And I had been so swallowed by my own grief that I hadn’t noticed hers.
My children lost her too.
Miss Bee’s only grandchildren.
They’re adults. But they were still her babies. She cheered them on, spoiled them, laughed with them. And her absence left a hole in their hearts that I couldn't bandage.
Even while I was grieving, I still had to be a mom — show up for them, answer their calls, listen to their stories of missing her. Even when I could barely breathe.
And they gave me grace. But still — I had to remember: they were hurting too.
She belonged to more than just me.
She belonged to us all. To Julie. To my children. To the women she poured into. To the community she loved.
And when she left… we all lost her.
🐝 I’m not a therapist.
I don’t have a degree in mental health. But I do have lived experience. I write about grief because I believe in the power of story. And if my story can help someone feel less alone on their grief journey, then my pain has purpose.
It may take a while for you to realize it. Maybe months. Maybe years. But when you’re ready, I invite you to look around at the people closest to you and gently ask: Who else lost them too? Who’s still carrying pain that mirrors my own?
Because sometimes healing comes not just from being seen — But from seeing someone else’s grief clearly, too.
💛 Five Questions to Reflect On
If you’re navigating this realization — that others are grieving alongside you — here are a few gentle prompts to sit with:
Who else in my family or circle was deeply impacted by this loss?
Have I given myself space to acknowledge their pain alongside mine?
Have I had a conversation — even a short one — to ask how they're coping?
Is there a way I can honor their grief without dismissing my own?
What would it look like to heal together, even in small moments?
💛 You’re not alone. We’re here.
At The Heart of Miss Bee, Inc., we create grief support that feels real, relatable, and rooted in love. We know grief doesn’t follow a script — and we also know you don’t have to do it alone.
Visit: www.honoringmissbee.org to explore:
💛 Our free grief journal “Living Without You”
🕯️ Our Say Her Name Campaign
✍🏾 Our Share Your Grief Story writing resource
Because whether you're grieving silently or out loud — your heart still deserves care. And so do the hearts grieving beside you.
With all my love, Kinyatta Gray Founder, The Heart of Miss Bee, Inc.