On Writing Grieving 2 Grievance by Dr. Sheila S. Johnson
Losing my child was the most devastating experience I have ever faced. One moment, I was moving through life as usual; the next, I was thrown into a reality I never asked for and could not prepare for.
My son’s passing divided my life into a before and an after. In the before, I thought I understood pain, resilience, and love. After, I discovered that grief can hollow you so completely that even forming a sentence felt impossible. And yet, ironically, it was through sentences—imperfect, scattered—that I slowly found my way forward.
In the early days, the world moved on quickly. People returned to their routines, as they must, but I remained suspended in grief. When the condolences stopped and the meals stopped arriving, when the house became quiet again, I faced a new kind of loneliness. Even the simple act of getting dressed felt like a negotiation with myself.
Returning to work was another turning point, though not the kind anyone imagines. Some assumed my return signaled strength, but in reality, I was barely holding together. What surprised me most was the weight of the silence. There were no honest conversations about the toll of grief, no check-ins, no guidance for how to function at work when I no longer knew how to show up as a mother.
The spark for my book came from realizing how many others were quietly drowning in grief while being expected to carry on at work as if nothing had happened. I knew I had to share my story—not for sympathy, but for connection. To reach others standing in that same darkness, desperate for a voice that understood.
I began writing because the weight inside me was too heavy to carry alone. The page never flinched when I said I was hurting. Writing became a lifeline. It allowed me to express the pain I couldn’t speak aloud, especially as I navigated a difficult work environment shaped by power dynamics, gender, and systemic silence.
Each paragraph gave me room to breathe. Every time I wrote about my son—his laughter, his dreams, the way he changed my life—my grief softened just enough to let the love through. The more I wrote, the more I realized how many women carry grief silently: mothers mourning children or pregnancies, workers burying their pain just to keep a paycheck. Losses that workplaces rarely acknowledge and society barely speaks of.
Publishing terrified me. I worried I might offend “real writers” or that readers might recoil at the rawness of my truth. But I also knew it was necessary. Women’s grief has too often been minimized, hidden, or framed only through stoicism. We are told to be strong, to endure, to hold the family together—yet rarely asked what we need, or how we’re coping.
In publishing my book, I tried to honor my son in the only way I still could: by telling the truth. I wanted to create something that speaks honestly about child loss without softening the edges. A story that acknowledges the pressure to perform through pain, the loneliness of grief, and the strength it takes to face each day.
I hope my book serves as a companion for anyone navigating loss—and as a call to workplaces, communities, and leaders to meet grief with compassion. No parent should have to navigate the depths of sorrow alone. No woman should feel the pressure to return to “normal” when her world has been changed forever.
Grief reshapes everything: our thoughts, our sense of self, our capacity for joy. Crafting my story helped me process pain that once felt unspeakable. And by sharing it, I keep my son’s spirit alive—in every sentence, and in every reader who sees themselves reflected in this journey.
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Author Bio:
Dr. Sheila S. Johnson is a Chicago-based educator, speaker, and author of Grieving 2 Grievance, a memoir exploring personal loss, workplace injustice, and the healing power of storytelling. She writes to honor her son’s memory and to advocate for more compassionate, trauma-informed spaces — especially for grieving mothers navigating silence in professional environments.
Grieving 2 Grievance
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Category: On Writing





























