Our Story — Part I
For many years, my mother was told she might never be able to conceive. Then, against the odds, she became pregnant with me. Her pregnancy was filled with complications, and she fought hard to carry me safely to term. When I was born healthy, it felt like a miracle and the fulfillment of everything she had hoped and prayed for.
After my birth, my mother became pregnant again but suffered a miscarriage. She later conceived once more and gave birth to another baby girl—my sister, Gertrude, lovingly called Gert, named after my mother’s grandmother. Gert was born prematurely at seven months on November 11. She was diagnosed with Respiratory Distress Syndrome, meaning her lungs were not fully developed. Gert lived for eight precious days before passing peacefully.
I was not yet a year old when Gert died, but I know her story by heart because my mother made sure it was never forgotten. For 40 years, through her struggles and triumphs, through every season of her life, she shared Gert’s story with me. Each year when we celebrated my birthday, she also honored Gert’s. Remembering her daughter brought my mother a sense of comfort and connection.
As a child, I sometimes wondered what it would have been like to grow up with a sibling—to laugh, argue, and share life together. It wasn’t until adulthood that I truly understood the depth of my mother’s grief. I came to see that she carried a loss that time did not erase. She was living with a space in her heart that could never be replaced, a quiet ache that remained part of her story.
This foundation was created in honor of my mother, Gert, and families everywhere who have experienced the loss of a child. Its purpose is to encourage parents, siblings, and loved ones to share their stories openly and to keep the memory of their children alive. Your child’s life matters. Your grief matters. Speaking their names and telling their stories is an act of love and remembrance.
We exist to create a space where families feel seen, supported, and understood—a place where love is recognized and returned. This organization stands as a tribute to every mother and family carrying this kind of heartbreak. Your emptiness does not define you. Our hope is that, in time, your pain can be transformed into strength, connection, and purpose.
Our Story — Part I
For many years, my mother was told she might never be able to conceive. Then, against the odds, she became pregnant with me. Her pregnancy was filled with complications, and she fought hard to carry me safely to term. When I was born healthy, it felt like a miracle and the fulfillment of everything she had hoped and prayed for.
After my birth, my mother became pregnant again but suffered a miscarriage. She later conceived once more and gave birth to another baby girl—my sister, Gertrude, lovingly called Gert, named after my mother’s grandmother. Gert was born prematurely at seven months on November 11. She was diagnosed with Respiratory Distress Syndrome, meaning her lungs were not fully developed. Gert lived for eight precious days before passing peacefully.
I was not yet a year old when Gert died, but I know her story by heart because my mother made sure it was never forgotten. For 40 years, through her struggles and triumphs, through every season of her life, she shared Gert’s story with me. Each year when we celebrated my birthday, she also honored Gert’s. Remembering her daughter brought my mother a sense of comfort and connection.
As a child, I sometimes wondered what it would have been like to grow up with a sibling—to laugh, argue, and share life together. It wasn’t until adulthood that I truly understood the depth of my mother’s grief. I came to see that she carried a loss that time did not erase. She was living with a space in her heart that could never be replaced, a quiet ache that remained part of her story.
This foundation was created in honor of my mother, Gert, and families everywhere who have experienced the loss of a child. Its purpose is to encourage parents, siblings, and loved ones to share their stories openly and to keep the memory of their children alive. Your child’s life matters. Your grief matters. Speaking their names and telling their stories is an act of love and remembrance.
We exist to create a space where families feel seen, supported, and understood—a place where love is recognized and returned. This organization stands as a tribute to every mother and family carrying this kind of heartbreak. Your emptiness does not define you. Our hope is that, in time, your pain can be transformed into strength, connection, and purpose.
Our Story — Part II
The second reason this organization was founded comes from an experience that was far more difficult and unsettling. It is not an easy story to tell, but it is an important one. By sharing it, we hope others can better understand why this work matters and why compassionate advocacy in death care is so necessary.
In the winter of 2017, I began pursuing an education in Mortuary Science with the goal of becoming a licensed funeral director and embalmer. During my training, I accepted a position as a Family Counselor at a large cemetery memorial garden. My role involved guiding families through final burial arrangements and supporting them during one of the most vulnerable moments of their lives.
Not long after I started, we received a first call regarding the burial of an infant. A young mother arrived at our office with her cousin, coming directly from the hospital and still wearing her hospital bracelet. She had delivered her baby only days earlier. I was shadowing a senior counselor as we met with her to complete the necessary paperwork and discuss arrangements. When the topic of payment arose, the young mother tearfully explained that she did not have the financial means to cover the expenses. She shared that her church and community were gathering donations and assured us that payment would be forthcoming.
For a burial at the cemetery, several essential items were recommended, including a burial space, opening and closing of the grave, and an outer burial container. Shortly afterward, a check from a local church arrived covering the burial space and opening and closing costs. We were informed that the outer burial container would be provided through the funeral home.
On the day of the service, I helped guide the funeral procession to the gravesite and remained afterward to assist with the final steps. As the service concluded and the family returned to their vehicles, I noticed that the expected burial container was not present. When questioned, the funeral director retrieved what he intended to use in its place: a common styrofoam cooler.
The moment was shocking and deeply troubling. An outer burial container exists to protect the integrity and dignity of a loved one’s remains. A fragile substitute could not provide that protection. Cemetery leadership immediately intervened and required that a proper container be obtained before the burial could proceed.
That experience permanently shaped my understanding of ethical responsibility in death care. I left with two convictions that would later define this organization: every life deserves to be memorialized with dignity, and no family should face compromised care simply because they lack financial resources.
This moment became a turning point. It revealed how vulnerable grieving families can be and how urgently compassionate support and financial assistance are needed. **Death Care Aware was established to uphold these principles—to advocate for families, to protect dignity in final arrangements, and to help ensure that no child is ever laid to rest without the respect and care they deserve.
The second reason this organization was founded comes from an experience that was far more difficult and unsettling. It is not an easy story to tell, but it is an important one. By sharing it, we hope others can better understand why this work matters and why compassionate advocacy in death care is so necessary.
In the winter of 2017, I began pursuing an education in Mortuary Science with the goal of becoming a licensed funeral director and embalmer. During my training, I accepted a position as a Family Counselor at a large cemetery memorial garden. My role involved guiding families through final burial arrangements and supporting them during one of the most vulnerable moments of their lives.
Not long after I started, we received a first call regarding the burial of an infant. A young mother arrived at our office with her cousin, coming directly from the hospital and still wearing her hospital bracelet. She had delivered her baby only days earlier. I was shadowing a senior counselor as we met with her to complete the necessary paperwork and discuss arrangements. When the topic of payment arose, the young mother tearfully explained that she did not have the financial means to cover the expenses. She shared that her church and community were gathering donations and assured us that payment would be forthcoming.
For a burial at the cemetery, several essential items were recommended, including a burial space, opening and closing of the grave, and an outer burial container. Shortly afterward, a check from a local church arrived covering the burial space and opening and closing costs. We were informed that the outer burial container would be provided through the funeral home.
On the day of the service, I helped guide the funeral procession to the gravesite and remained afterward to assist with the final steps. As the service concluded and the family returned to their vehicles, I noticed that the expected burial container was not present. When questioned, the funeral director retrieved what he intended to use in its place: a common styrofoam cooler.
The moment was shocking and deeply troubling. An outer burial container exists to protect the integrity and dignity of a loved one’s remains. A fragile substitute could not provide that protection. Cemetery leadership immediately intervened and required that a proper container be obtained before the burial could proceed.
That experience permanently shaped my understanding of ethical responsibility in death care. I left with two convictions that would later define this organization: every life deserves to be memorialized with dignity, and no family should face compromised care simply because they lack financial resources.
This moment became a turning point. It revealed how vulnerable grieving families can be and how urgently compassionate support and financial assistance are needed. **Death Care Aware was established to uphold these principles—to advocate for families, to protect dignity in final arrangements, and to help ensure that no child is ever laid to rest without the respect and care they deserve.
