One thing I appreciate about social media is the ability to share life’s moments with friends and family. I’ve never been shy about sharing the good or the bad—that is life, after all. I’ve used social media for decades, and over nine years ago I downloaded a little app called Timehop, and linked all of my social accounts to it. I’m not endorsing anything, just sharing.

By way of explanation, Timehop will show me what I posted on the current day over the last several years, and I’ve linked it to photos in the cloud so I can see what photos I took decades ago on the same day.

Inevitably, I find something I posted relating to my growth through grief, and I recently came across a post I made 11 years ago, following the death of my second husband. “Apparently, I didn’t do the right thing for the back-to-school shopping. ‘Daddy Bob did it better.’ Yeah, I know.”

At the time, it stung. Honestly, it still does, a bit. Here I was, suddenly a single parent, widowed for 7 months, trying to ensure my kids had what they needed to go back to school, and… I couldn’t even do THAT right. I mean, how hard is it to buy notebooks, pencils, protractors, and all the other things a 5th and 6th grader needed?

I didn’t cook right. I couldn’t shop right. What COULD I do that was right? I felt like nothing I did could measure up to the other parent my children lost. One certainty remained in my mind: I’m gonna screw these kids up.

But here’s the truth I couldn’t see at the time: it wasn’t about doing things “right.” It was about doing them at all. It was about showing up. It was about being there, even if my version of “there” looked different than Daddy Bob’s.

Grief has a way of distorting the mirror. Every flaw looks magnified. Every mistake feels permanent. Every comparison tilts against you. And when you’re already carrying the weight of loss, it doesn’t take much for a single comment (especially from your kids) to feel like proof you’re failing.

Looking back, I can see how unfair I was being to myself. I was measuring my present by someone else’s past, forgetting that I was building something different—but still valid.

What I’ve learned since then is this: grace matters. Grace for our kids, who are grieving in their own way, and certainly grace for ourselves, who are fumbling forward in uncharted territory. We don’t have to do things exactly like the person we lost. We don’t even have to do things perfectly. We just have to keep doing them, in our own imperfect, human way.

Sometimes “good enough” really is enough. The notebooks may not have been the exact brand they wanted. The meals may not have tasted the same. The shopping trips may not have had the same rhythm (especially since shopping is not a favorite pastime of mine). But the truth is, those things didn’t matter nearly as much as the fact that I was still standing there, still trying, still loving them through the mess of it all.

How to Practice Grace in Real Life

Giving yourself grace is simply recognizing that perfection was never the goal. Presence was. Consistency was. Love was. But if you need something practical, here are a few ways I’ve found to help:

• Pause before spiraling. When the shame-thoughts start (“I can’t do anything right”), stop and remind yourself: “I’m learning.”
• Redefine ‘good enough.’ Did they get fed? Do they have supplies? Did I show up? Then yes—you did enough.
• Create new traditions. It doesn’t have to look like the way your partner did it. You can create rituals that feel right for you and your family.
• Seek support. Whether it’s a trusted friend, another grieving parent, or a support group, let someone else remind you you’re not alone.
• Notice the long game. Kids don’t remember every notebook brand or every dinner menu. They remember how they felt loved, safe, and cared for.

The goal isn’t to erase mistakes or to replicate someone else’s way of doing things. It’s to keep showing up, even when it feels clumsy, even when you’re not sure you’re “enough.”

And you know what? That was enough.

Oh, and the kids? I didn’t screw them up, actually. For the most part, they’re well-adjusted adults now. At least as adjusted as their peers.

What’s one area of your life where you need to give yourself a little more grace?