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A letter to my mother-in-law who spoiled my sons

"It's pointless to dwell on regrets, but I often think about how I had it all wrong. I was so wrong in how I perceived your generosity."

Tina Platamura

An open letter on boundaries and respect.


You always stole my thunder. You gave them everything they wanted. You never said no when they asked for anything.

three young boysTina Plantamura's three sons.Tina Plantamura

A second helping of dessert. Candy before dinner. A few more minutes in the bath. Money for the ice cream truck.

I struggled to show you respect and appreciation while trying to make sure you didn't spoil my children. I thought you would turn them into “selfish brats" by giving them everything they wanted. I thought they might never learn to wait, to take turns, to share, because you granted their wishes as soon as they opened their mouths and pointed.

You held each one of my babies long after they fell asleep. Didn't you understand that I needed them to learn to fall asleep on their own?

You ran to them as soon as they made the tiniest sound. How would they ever learn to self-soothe?

I resented you for buying the best and most expensive gifts on their birthdays and on Christmas. How could I possibly compete with you?

"I thought they might never learn to wait, to take turns, to share, because you granted their wishes as soon as they opened their mouths and pointed."

And how they loved afternoons spent with you. You made their favorite things for dinner—three different meals for three different boys. And you always had a little surprise. A present, candy, or a special treat. I didn't want them to associate you with gifts and sweets. I thought they should love you for you. I tried to tell you this, but you wouldn't listen.

I spent a lot of time wondering why you did all these things and how I could get you to ease up. I know grandmothers are supposed to “spoil the kids" then send them home, but you were...ridiculous.

Until you were gone.

I had to hold my boys and tell them that their grandma died. It didn't seem possible—you were supposed to be there for all the other special moments: proms, graduations, weddings. But they lost their grandma too soon and too suddenly. They were not ready to say goodbye.

During those years when I wished you'd stop spoiling them, I never thought about how much you loved them. So much that you showed it in every way possible. Your cooking. The gifts. The candy and sweets. Your presence. The way you could recount every detail of a special moment, whether it was a perfect catch in the outfield or a sweet and slightly off-key note sung at a school concert. Your grandmotherly love for them knew no bounds. Your heart poured love from every place possible—your kitchen, your pocketbook, your words, and your tireless arms.

It's pointless to dwell on regrets, but I often think about how I had it all wrong. I was so wrong in how I perceived your generosity.

My kids, now in their teens, miss you dearly. And they don't miss your gifts or your money. They miss you.

They miss running to greet you at the door and hugging you before you could step in. They miss looking up at the bleachers and seeing you, one of their biggest fans, smiling and enthralled to catch their eye. They miss talking to you and hearing your words of wisdom, encouragement and love.

If I could speak to you one more time, I would tell you that every time a precious moment steals my heart, every time I watch them arrive at a new milestone, and every time they amaze me with their perseverance, talents, or triumphs, I think of you. And I wish that they could have you back.

Come back and love them one last time, like no one else in the world but a grandmother could. Bring your sweets and surprises. Reward them with gifts for the smallest accomplishments. Painstakingly prepare their favorite meals. Take them anywhere they want to go. All and only because you love them.

Come back and see how much they've grown. Watch each boy becoming his own version of a young man. Be in awe with me as we admire how family, friendship, time, and love helped them grow so beautifully over the years.

The more I long for you to come back, though, the more I realize that in a way, you never left.

three teenaged boys

Tina Plantamura's three teenaged sons.

Tina Plantamura

I understand now. I know you loved them in every way you could. I know that being their grandma gave you joy and purpose. And of course I know that you can't come back, but I do know that your love for them will always remain. Your love built them and sheltered them in ways that cannot be described. Your love is a big part of who they are and what they will become as they grow. For this, and for every treat and gift, and every time you held them too long or consoled them too much or let them stay up too late, I will always thank you.

And I will wish a million times that you could do it all again.


This article was written by Tina Plantamura and originally appeared nine years ago.

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5 things I didn't want to hear when I was grieving and 1 thing that helped

Here are my top five things not to say to a grieving parent — and the thing I love to hear instead.


In 2013, I found out I was pregnant with triplets.

Image via iStock.

My husband and I were in shock but thrilled at the news after dealing with infertility for years. And it didn't take long for the comments to begin. When people found out, the usual remarks followed: "Triplets?! What are you going to do? Three kids at once?! Glad it's not me!"

After mastering my response (and an evil look reserved for the rudest comments), I figured that was the worst of it. But little did I know I would be facing far worse comments after two of my triplets passed away.

On June 23, 2013, I gave birth to my triplets, more than four months premature.

My daughter, Abigail, passed away that same day; my son, Parker, died just shy of 2 months old. Before then, I didn't know much about child loss; it was uncharted territory. Like most people, I wouldn't know how to respond or what to say if a friend's child passed away.

Image via iStock.

But two years later, I have found that some things are better left unsaid. These comments come from a good place, and I know people mean well, but they sure do sting.

Here are my top five things not to say to a grieving parent — and the thing I love to hear instead.

1. "Everything happens for a reason."

It's a cringeworthy comment for those of us who have lost a child. Sometimes, there is no rhyme or reason for why things happen in life. A parent should not outlive their child. I don't know why my body couldn't handle my pregnancy or why I went into labor at 22 weeks.

This phrase goes along with another I often hear: "God only gives us what we can handle." I remember talking with my childhood rabbi the night before my son passed away, and I asked her, "Why me?" Her response is something I now live by every single day. She said, "God doesn't give us only what we can handle. He helps us handle what we've been given."

2. "They are in a better place."

Instead of comforting, this is a phrase that makes me feel down in the dumps. I longed to be a parent for so many years. And children are meant to be in the loving arms of their parents.

I think I speak for every grieving mother and father when I say, we would give anything to hold our babies again.

3. "At least you have one survivor. Count your blessings."

I like to think of myself as a positive person. But even two years later, my heart still aches for Parker and Abby. And on the most difficult, dark days of grief, it's hard to "count my blessings."

Yes, I am blessed. I have a gorgeous miracle child who is the light of my life. But Peyton should be playing with her brother and sister in our home, not just waving to their pictures and blowing kisses to heaven.

4. "You are still young. You can have more children."

It doesn't matter whether or not our biological clock is ticking. Many people have no idea what couples go through to have a child: Some can't have children of their own; others may face years of infertility or miscarriages. And for people like me, trying for more children may be something too scary to even think about. I came close to death after delivering my children — that's enough to scar me for life.

5. "I don't know how you do it. I couldn't imagine losing two children."

Some days I don't know how I do it either. But we learn how to live with it. We learn a "new normal," and in those tough moments, we celebrate that we survived the day. This comment is a difficult reminder of our grief and the children who were sent to heaven.

So, what should you say to a grieving parent?

Image via iStock.

There are no words to take the pain away, of course, but simply letting that person know you are there for them is more than enough.

For me, the best thing someone can do is to talk about my angels. Say Parker and Abby by name, and don't be afraid to ask questions about them.

While they were only here for a short time, they left a huge imprint on this world. I love talking about my angels, and simply hearing someone else mention them by name is enough to wipe away the grief and warm my heart for days.


This article was written by Stacey Skrysak and originally appeared on 7.15.16

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Jennifer Garner announces the death of her father with heartfelt tribute and family photos

"Today is for gratitude."

iSpotTV

Jennifer Garner ad father William John Garner starring in a Capital One commercial.

Grief and gratitude might seem to be in opposition to the other, but in times of loss, they both work in tandem to help us process our pain. As the “Ten Percent Happier” blog eloquently puts it, “grief embodies our humanity even as gratitude allows us to embrace pain and hardship.”

Actress Jennifer Garner recently gave a poignant example of this.

On April 1, the “Alias” star took to her Instagram page to share the news that her father, William John Garner, died “peacefully” in the afternoon on March 30.

Though her tribute expressed the loss she felt, it made plenty of space for humor and appreciation for the precious memories she got to create with her “kind and brilliant” dad.

Garner began her caption with a joke, saying, “We were with him, singing ‘Amazing Grace’ as he left us. Did we carry him across or scare him away — valid question.”

The lighthearted moment was followed by a nugget of heartfelt truth. “While there is no tragedy in the death of an 85-year-old man who lived a healthy, wonderful life, I know grief is unavoidable, waiting around unexpected corners.”

Still, Garner noted that “Today is for gratitude,” reminiscing her late father’s “gentle demeanor and quiet strength” his “mischievous smile,” and “for the way he invented the role of all in, ever patient girl dad.”

She then sent thank-you's to the medical staff that helped him during his final chapter, helping him get a few more days to spend with his grandchildren.

“There is so much to say about my dad— my sisters and I will never be done talking about how wonderful he was, so bear with us,” she concluded. “But for today, I share these memories with my appreciation for the kind and brilliant man, father, and grandfather he was, as well as the loving legacy he left behind.”

Along with the tribute, Garner shared a carousel of images of her dad, including a clip of their iconic Capital One commercial spot, where her father got to deliver the famous “What’s in your wallet?” tagline.

Garner aimed to honor her father in her tribute, and she succeeded.

“My heart aches a little because you lost someone so incredibly special, but also celebrates the comfort you must have in knowing what a precious and wonderful human being he was here on Earth. I am now singing to him as well!” one person wrote.

Another added, “What an amazing father and beautiful example.”

It prompted a few to reflect on their own relationships with their father.

“Dads are so precious. Sorry for your loss.”

“A father daughter bond is like no other — I’m so very sorry — sending love and prayers for your family.”

“What a lovely face he had! A wonderful father is a tough thing to beat. I had one too and know in my bones how lucky I was — how lucky you were— thinking of you and sending buckets of love.”

Part of being human means eventually losing everyone we love. We can choose to focus solely on mourning. We can also choose to try to bury the pain. But neither of those options helps us fully experience our own humanity. The hidden opportunity of grief is to feel gratitude at a profound level, as if to say “I am now more fully aware of how precious our time together was, now that it is no longer here.” May we all have the grace to embrace both sides when the time comes.

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Widow defends woman who filmed herself picking up her husband's ashes and grieving

"I wish I had any video evidence of how this felt… Grief needs a witness."

Photo by Fa Barboza on Unsplash, Nora McInerny/Facebook (used with permission)

Nora McInerny explains why someone would make their grief public.

There are basically two universal truths about grieving a loved one. One, there is no "normal" way to grieve—it's entirely individual. And two, no one should judge another person's grief process.

A video of a woman picking up her husband's ashes started an important conversation about what grief looks like and why someone would choose to share such a personal moment with the world.

Adriana Sansam's husband, Eric, died unexpectedly in the spring of 2023 at age 30, turning the beautiful life they were building with their three small children upside down. Since Eric's death, Sansam has been sharing snippets of her grieving process on her Instagram page, and one of those snippets was a video of her in her car before and after picking up Eric's ashes. We see her break down before she leaves the car and again after she returns and cradles the urn that holds her husband's remains.

Some people questioned and even criticized Sansam for filming and sharing those moments, which prompted grief advocate Nora McInerny to post a video response in her defense.

McInerny, whose husband died in 2014, has given a Ted Talk on grief, has written multiple books on the topic and is the host of the award-winning podcast "Terrible, Thanks for Asking" and the daily podcast "It's Going To Be Okay." In other words, she''s well-versed in the grieving process.

In the caption of her response, McInerny wrote:

"You don't have to grieve publicly, but I'll personally fight anyone who wants to judge people who *do* put it out there. Consider it a public service for those who haven't walked that path yet; our culture is so grief-averse that we are rarely forced to see someone else's pain and anguish. You don't have to like it, but you *also* don't have to comment on it."

In the video, she explains why someone might choose to film an intense grieving moment.

"I wish I had any video evidence of how this felt," she said. "Grief is so disorienting. It feels like you made it up. And grief needs a witness. And you know what? Consider yourself lucky if you don't know why she would film it. But she's filming it for you. She's filming it so that if you find yourself in this unfortunate position or know someone who does, you know what grief actually looks like."

McInerny is right. We don't see grief very often in our society, and it's even more rare that we see it being experienced and expressed publicly. People usually do their intense grieving in private, either because that's what they feel most comfortable with or because that's what other people feel most comfortable with.

But grieving isn't comfortable. It's messy and intense and unpredictable. It has no set trajectory and no timeline. And if we never see grief in all its raw, real glory, we might feel like something's wrong with us if (or when) we go through a tragic loss ourselves.

Those commenting negatively may have learned something if they'd simply read some of the other comments on Sansam's video. Person after person shared their stories of understanding and solidarity as well as their gratitude to Sansam for showing what she was experiencing:

"❤️😢 Some people may think it's strange to post about grief, but honestly I appreciate every single account I come across 😢 and send love and healing energy to everyone who understands the loss of a loved one. 🙏🏽"

"You know that hug-the-vase thing? Yes, that’s real, because that’s the closest we’ll ever get to hugging them again. I hugged my father’s urn every chance I could, knowing I can’t hug him again til the next life. 🙏🏼 Hug your loved ones if you still get a chance, but that hug then breaking down while doing it. Thats as real as it gets. 💙 Stay strong, praying for you. 🙏🏼"

"I’m so sorry… My daughter Azalea passed away in December and picking up her ashes was one of the hardest days of my life. It made her death feel so final. 💔"

"So sorry for your loss! I lost my wife in December. She was only 47. I also lost my son in June who was only 12. Know you’re not alone. Lean on friends, lean on family. Most important, talk to him every day. Ask him for signs to help ease the pain. He will come through for you. Love lasts forever! 🙏🏻❤️"

"I lost my husband young… it’s a painful thing to live with❤️❤️what I can tell you is that the pain and grief will become less consuming. You can do this…."

"I wept at this video for you and for my 42 year old self that had to do the same thing. I remember going by myself to pick them up and just breaking down in the car. I’m so so sorry you went through this at such a young age! Hugs, my widow sister." ❤️

"I picked my Mom up in January. I drove the roads we knew so well through San Diego and talked to her about the memories in each area. I think I just kept talking because I would have lost my mind thinking about the reality of what I was doing. Thank you for sharing such a vulnerable moment. May he rest in peace."

The bottom line is if we haven't been through it ourselves, we have no right to judge. And even if we have experienced something similar, everyone's process is different and what seems weird to one person might be normal or necessary for another, so we still shouldn't judge.

Thank you, Nora McInerny, for the important reminder.

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