Grief has a way of reshaping us—sometimes subtly, other times in sudden, unrelenting waves. This past month, I experienced one of those waves. It was only the second time I’ve endured the loss of someone so deeply loved that more than one memorial service was needed. But this was the first time I played an active role in both—planning, organizing, and, most importantly, remembering.
Coordination and connection are two of my core strengths, so it felt natural to step into that role. Still, nothing about it was routine. Each service was entirely different, and my role in each reflected the unique setting and emotional landscape we found ourselves navigating.
The first service took place in Helena, Montana—where my father-in-law passed away. Due to travel schedules, we had less than 24 hours to plan and just over 48 hours to host it. Our immediate family was still in shock. And though we worked well together, the support of the local church community made all the difference. Their generosity and love carried us. One of my favorite gestures was the way they hosted a private lunch just for the family before the service, followed by a more open dessert gathering where friends and extended family could share stories and condolences. It was small, heartfelt, and beautifully done.
For anyone needing to plan a service quickly: Focus on what truly matters. Location, basic structure, and space for connection are more important than perfection. Accept help, keep it simple, and let love do the heavy lifting.
Three weeks later, we gathered again in his hometown for a larger memorial. By then, the shock had worn off. The weight of our loss had settled in, and the adrenaline we relied on before was gone. This time, we leaned on the church staff to lead the way. Aside from providing the eulogy and one special song I sang in his honor, we handed the rest over to them—and that was the best decision we could have made.
One of the most important things I learned is the value of delegation during grief. It’s okay—necessary even—to hand off responsibilities when you’re emotionally depleted. Leaning on church staff or other community members isn’t a weakness; it’s an act of care for yourself and others who are grieving.
Grief fatigue is real. You may find that your emotional energy comes in waves. Rest when you need to. Let others take the lead if you’re feeling empty. You don’t have to do it all to honor someone well.
A special addition to the second service was the presence of the Honor Guard, who paid tribute to a chapter of my father-in-law’s life that not many knew—his service in the Air Force. It was deeply moving, and a reminder of how many different roles a single life can hold.
If your loved one served in the military, local veteran organizations or funeral homes can often help coordinate a military tribute. You may be surprised by how meaningful this gesture can be for the family and community, especially when that service wasn’t widely known.
Both services were unique. Both were beautiful. And both truly honored a man we all deeply loved. If there was one common wish expressed afterward, it was this: that we’d had more time together as a family.
In the weeks since, I’ve noticed something shifting in me. My priorities are changing. I’m thinking of family more. I’m reaching out more. I’m searching for ways to make space—real, intentional space—for time together.
One takeaway I’d gently offer to others: Don’t wait for loss to prioritize family connection. Even small efforts—phone calls, shared meals, a weekend visit—can create lasting closeness and reduce regrets later on.
Grief may rearrange our lives, but it can also point us back to what matters most. In honoring our loved ones, we often begin to reimagine how to better love the ones who are still with us.
