08/20/2026
There is something I’ve learned in these years of being a bereaved parent: we don’t need our children to be forgotten. We need them to be remembered. We need people to know that they were here, that they mattered, that they were loved, and that their lives made a difference.
My son, Talon, was an amazing 11-year-old boy. He was funny, loving, kind-hearted, and he simply loved being a boy. He loved anything with wheels, but nothing more than his Yamaha dirt bikes. If Talon was riding, you could almost guarantee he was covered head to toe in Yamaha gear. That was my boy. 💙
My whole world was devastated the day after Christmas in 2021. Losing Talon changed me forever. For more than four years, I lived in a place of deep depression and grief. I tried to carry it all by myself, and eventually I realized I couldn’t do it alone.
Someone recently shared a story with me that has stayed in my heart. Her sister had passed away, and someone asked her mother how she could possibly go on living without her daughter. Her answer was simple:
“I have to be here. I have to honor her.”
Those words changed something inside of me.
I finally understand why God left me here when He took my child. I am not here because losing Talon was something I was supposed to “get over.” I am here because I have a son to honor.
And I’ve learned something else that I think is so important for those who love and support bereaved parents: please don’t be afraid to talk about our children. Ask us about them. Say their names. Ask what they were like, what they loved, what made them laugh.
We WANT to talk about them.
Sometimes people stay silent because they are afraid they will remind us of our pain. The truth is, we never forget our children. We are already thinking about them. Hearing their name doesn’t create the pain—it reminds us that someone else remembers them too. And that means more than you may ever know.
Bereaved parents also have to lean on each other. There is something incredibly powerful about sitting in a room with other parents who don’t need an explanation. They just get it. They understand the empty chair, the holidays that feel different, the milestones our children should have reached, and the ache that never completely goes away.
That is why we get together once a month. Scarred Hearts has gotten me through some really rough days. Being able to talk, listen, cry, laugh, remember, and simply be around people who understand has helped me more than I can put into words.
We meet every third Thursday from 6–8 PM at Lake Mountain Coffee in Statesville. This is not structured therapy. It is simply a place for bereaved parents to come together and talk with other parents who understand what you are going through.
If you have lost a child, or if you know someone who has, please join us. You don’t have to know what to say. You don’t have to be “okay.” You can simply show up.
And if you’re worried that talking about your child will make us uncomfortable, please know this:
We would love to talk about your child.
Tell us their name. Tell us what they loved. Tell us something funny about them. Tell us who they were.
Because our children mattered. Their lives mattered. And we want the world to remember them.
I will never stop missing my boy. I will never stop wishing he were here. But I can choose to live a life that honors the life he was given.
Talon mattered. His life mattered. He is loved. He is remembered. And as long as I am here, I will make sure his story continues. 💙
Much Love
Amy Dyson
