I lost my Mom. And suddenly, I was planning a funeral for the woman who had given me life.

If you don't read anything else beyond this quote, just know this: losing my mother taught me that the details matter. The questions you ask matter. The words you choose matter. And finding ways to express just how much her life meant—through words, photos, memories and stories—became an unexpected part of my own healing.

When my mother passed away in March of 2026, I quickly learned just how overwhelming loss can be. As an only child, I suddenly found myself navigating funeral arrangements while trying to process the fact that my mom was actually gone.

There were decisions to make, questions I didn't know I was supposed to ask, expenses I didn't understand, paperwork, phone calls and a funeral to plan—all while grieving.

One task became especially important to me during that process: her funeral program.

All I knew was that I wanted it to reflect the woman she truly was—not simply the dates of her life, but her personality, her memories, the things that made us laugh and the legacy she left behind.

With the help of family and friends, I created a tribute that brought me peace during one of the hardest seasons of my life.

The response was overwhelming.

People didn't just see a funeral program.

They saw my mother.

And something about putting her story into words and photographs helped me begin processing my own.

But eventually, the funeral ended.

Everyone went home.

And I discovered something else nobody really prepares you for:

You still have to figure out how to live without your mom.

There are the practical things nobody warns you about. The paperwork. Her belongings. The decisions. The things you wish someone had explained before you spent money or said yes.

But then there are the firsts.

The first birthday without her.

The first Mother's Day.

The first holiday. The first time something happens and your instinct is still to pick up the phone and call her.

There are days when grief sneaks up on you, days when you question how you're supposed to move forward, and—believe it or not—days when something reminds you of your mom and you laugh until your stomach hurts.

I also learned that asking for help matters. Therapy became part of my own journey, and being willing to talk honestly about what I was feeling helped me in ways I didn't expect.

That's what WasItSad.com is becoming.

It began with my desire to honor my mother's life beautifully.

Now, it's a place for women like me who are trying to figure out life after Mom.

I'll share the things I wish someone had told me—from making funeral arrangements and asking the right questions to navigating the difficult firsts, therapy, memories, practical resources and all those strange little moments that come with learning how to keep going.

And we're going to laugh here, too.

Because our mothers were more than the way they died.

They had personalities. They had sayings. They got on our nerves. 😂 They made us laugh. They embarrassed us. They taught us things. They left us stories we'll probably be telling for the rest of our lives.

And yes, grief is part of the story. But it doesn't have to be the whole story.

So if you've lost your mom and you're trying to figure out what comes next, you're welcome here.

I'm figuring it out, too.

From one daughter to another.❤️

— Harlem Hayes
Founder, WasItSad.com