August, Grief, and the Birth of Relent(less)

Honoring National Grief Awareness Day and the Stories We Carry

Every year, as the calendar flips from July to August, something in me shifts. The air feels heavier, my body slower, my thoughts more tender. I call August my grief month—and it’s no coincidence that National Grief Awareness Day falls on August 30th.

This time of year has marked me. Six years ago, on August 7th, my son was stillborn. Each year since, August arrives not just with a date circled on the calendar, but with a wave of grief that moves through my body before I even realize the month has changed. It’s cellular. It’s soul-deep. And it’s no longer something I resist.

In the early years, I used to brace for it—worried the sadness might undo me. But over time, I’ve come to see the quiet ache of August as something sacred. This month slows me down. It pulls me inward. It brings my son to the forefront of my mind in a way I crave all year long.

I become more reflective, more somber, more attuned to the things that really matter. It is a strange gift that only grief could give—the ability to tune out the noise and remember what is truly sacred.

But even in this sacred space, there is loneliness.

Over the years, fewer people remember my son’s birthday. I understand why—life is busy, and on the outside, I look okay. But each August, the silence around his day stings a little more. The pressure to keep him present, to make sure he is still spoken of, still known, still remembered—that falls squarely on me.

And that’s one of the reasons I created Relent(less).

Relent(less) is a space for people who get it—a community of grieving parents who don’t need reminders to remember. Friends who write down hard dates in their calendars without being asked. People who ask about your baby by name, without hesitation, because they know that your baby is always on your mind.

Grief doesn’t fade—it evolves. And those who carry it need people who are willing to carry it with them.

So, in honor of National Grief Awareness Day, here’s a small but meaningful invitation:

If you know someone who has lost a loved one, ask them about their important dates. Birthdays. Death days. Anniversaries. Then write them down. Set a reminder in your phone. And when the day comes, send a simple text:
“I remember. I’m thinking of them. I’m thinking of you.”

You have no idea how much that means.

And to those of you who are moving through your own grief this August—you are not alone. Whether it’s been six months or six years, your love, your story, your person… they still matter.

We remember with you.
We carry them with you.
We are Relent(less).

Brooke Stone (Relent(less) Branch Leader)