This blog is a space where I share my spirituality, the loss of my son, and the raw grief I live with as I find my path again.
My spiritual path has always been one of many paths - a messy path. Sometimes I walked closely with it, and other times I drifted away for years, too busy doing human things like being a parent, working, and getting caught up in daily life. I forgot about the bigger picture, and I forgot to take care of myself. Even as a child, I always felt a strong pull toward spirituality and nature. As a teenager, I loved tarot cards, but I never truly learned how to use them - I was busy being a teenager and worrying about friends.
About a decade ago, I began to get more interested in spirituality and religion again. I started exploring different paths. Wiccan, Buddhist, and Native American teachings called to me and felt like a good fit for my beliefs. I've always joked that nature is my temple.
Along this journey, I became friends with Kathleen. She is very knowledgeable in Buddhism, tarot, oracle readings, and teaching shamanic journeys. Kathleen took me on as a student. As a teacher, she opened my eyes to how vast the universe is, and how there is so much more than just us humans on this Earth. With her help, I found my footing and began blending Wiccan, Buddhist, and Native American paths into my life. I was given a clan within Native culture and my Native name - Feather Sitting Dirt, later changed to Feather Standing Dirt - a name I honour.
Through shamanic journey courses, my eyes opened even more to how immense this universe (and others) truly is. I met animal protectors, spirit guides, and teachers. I visited places beyond this world. I also began learning to use tarot and oracle cards with guidance from my spirit guides.
My son shared this world with me. He took shamanic courses and nature courses, learning how to communicate and connect with plants, trees, and spirits. Life was still messy, but with my son beside me and my eyes opening beyond the physical world, I felt like I was finally finding my way.
Then, on October 27, 2022, my whole world shattered. Everything came crashing down, changing my life, my beliefs, and my very core. "Angry" doesn't even begin to describe what I felt - and still feel. The pain I carry every second leaves me wondering how and why I am still here, how I wake up every day breathing without my only child. My son, Tucker, was taken from me at 16 years old. He was my everything. Losing him made me give up on life. My trust in the universe and spirit shattered along with my heart and soul.
I'm not going to say that three years later I have learned to lean on my spirituality to heal, because that wouldn't be true. I am still so angry that my son is gone. I struggle every single day with mental health challenges - complex grief, PTSD, anxiety, depression, and suicidal thoughts. My mind feels jumbled, and I struggle to speak clearly the way I used to. Every day is a battle to find even a small sense of hope, peace, or love beneath the anger.
But I also can't say I've fully lost my spirituality - that would be untrue as well. I stopped practicing, stopped learning, and my life came to a standstill. I stopped journeying, cleansing my house, using my tarot and oracle cards, and interpreting dreams, even though I was told I was a dream interpreter.
This will forever be an internal struggle while I am on this Earth. My hope in sharing my journey - now three years, one month, and two weeks since I lost my boy, Tucker - is that maybe I will become friends with the stranger in the mirror. Maybe I will learn who she is, learn to love her, be kind to her, and through that, embrace peace and spirituality again. Maybe I can learn how to live in this world without my son and still hold on to my beliefs. I believe my son is still with me and will help me walk this new path, carrying the unconditional love he always had.
Maybe my posts will help others who are in this club we never asked to join. If you are reading this and you have lost a child, as lonely as it feels, you are not alone. I am here for you.
As I step into this new year, I do not come with hope or dreams. I enter it slowly, resisting, carrying the weight of another year without Tucker. Time does not soften this loss. It only marks the distance from the last time I held my son. This is not pain that fades - it lives, it breathes, it stays.
I remember how deeply I once searched for understanding. I immersed myself in spiritual knowledge, universal ideas, truths about the unseen, believing that somewhere in all that learning I would find peace. That if I understood enough, something would finally make sense. But now I sit here still lost, still angry, still unsure, wondering how any of it helps me survive a life where my child no longer exists physically.
From the beginning, Tucker sent me signs. I feel this not in my bones, but in my soul. Gifts arriving through others. Moments too intentional to be random. I know my son's energy is woven into them. These signs opened a doorway in me - to wonder what exists beyond this life. Is it hope? Is it love continuing in another form? I don't have answers. I only know that some things are not a coincidence. They arrive with purpose.
As I opened myself spiritually, I began to understand that signs are everywhere. Spirit speaks quietly. Energy moves softly. The universe does not shout - it whispers. And grief has tuned me to hear those whispers more clearly than ever before.
I hold onto the belief that Tucker is beside me still, as he was when he lived - the one who believed in me without hesitation, who loved me without condition. The love of a child is pure, untouched by judgment or expectation. My body aches for that love, but my soul aches even deeper. It longs for his presence, his essence, his nearness. I am learning that love does not end with the physical, but is not only connected spiritually - it continues to grow spiritually as well.
Since Tucker passed, he has cared for me in ways only he could. The things he leaves for me to find. The moments when people feel compelled to show up, to give, to speak - guided by something they cannot explain. Others believe this should be enough. Enough proof. Enough comfort. Enough reassurance.
What they do not understand is that these signs hold both light and devastation. They give me hope that my son still exists somewhere beyond this realm, and at the same time they tear me open - as if I am losing him all over again. Grief does not move forward. It circles. It waits. Then it crashes into you without warning, no matter how much time has passed. It can bring you to your knees in a matter of seconds.
I will always accept the signs my son gives me. Always. I want them. I need them. I want to live with the love he embodied so effortlessly. I hope one day I can rise again - not because I have healed, not because I have moved on - but because I have learned how to exist without his physical presence.
Along this pat, I have learned how even kind words can wound. Being told that Tucker would not want me to suffer, that he would want me to live my life, may sound comforting - but it cuts deeply. When a parent already carries the unbearable guilt of not being able to save their child, being told they are now grieving incorrectly adds another layer of pain. What we need is not correction. We need to be seen. A hug. A quiet acknowledgement. Or silence that holds us without judgment.
As I step into 2026, I will continue to look for my son in the quiet spaces. I will listen. I will remain open. I want to reconnect with my spirit animals, my guides, my teachers -the energies that move quietly around us, unseen but deeply felt. Though I have been forever changed by this loss, I still hold my spiritual beliefs close. They are part of who I am, part of how I survive. And while I do not know where this path will lead, I can only hope that this year allows me to begin finding my new way forward - not the life I once had, but the one I am learning how to live.
Colours and Meanings
Black - Protection, banishing negativity, strong boundaries
White - Cleansing, peace, spiritual clarity, all-purpose substitute
Red - Strength, courage, passion, vitality
Pink - Love, self-love, emotional healing, friendship
Green - Money, growth, healing, abundance
Blue - Calm, communication, emotional balance, truth
Purple - Spiritual power, intuition
Yellow - Confidence, joy, creativity, mental clarity
Orange - Motivation, success, opportunity, energy
Brown - Stability, grounding, home matters
Gold - Success, confidence, prosperity, solar energy
Silver - Intuition, dreams, lunar energy, reflection
If you do not have the "correct" colour, white can be used for any spell, and your intention matters the most.
Spell jars and spell pouches are something I've always enjoyed making, and they became even more meaningful during the time I shared that practice with Tucker. Those moments of choosing items, setting intentions, and creating something together are memories I still hold close. Even now, when I make jars or pouches, it feels like a quiet way of staying connected to that time and to him. For me, this kind of magic has never been about perfection or strict rules. It's about heart, intention, and the love we carry with us. These jars and pouches are simple, gentle ways to hold protection, healing, hope, and prayer - created with meaning, not pressure to do everything "right".
Traditionally, spell jars are made of glass because it is natural, earth-based, and symbolically linked to clarity and containment. Glass is a good choice if you plan to keep the jar in one place, such as on an altar, shelf, or near a doorway, or if you may later return the contents to the earth when the spell is complete.
Plastic can also be used when glass is unsafe or impractical, such as when you need something lightweight or portable. While plastic is not traditional, intention matters more than perfection. Magic should fit into real life, and using what you have is always valid.
Spell pouches are small fabric bags filled with meaningful items and tied closed. They are ideal for spells you want to keep close to you or carry throughout the day. You can use a premade pouch or create your own by placing your items in the center of a square piece of cloth, gathering the corners upward, and tying it closed with ribbon, string, twine, or yarn.
In the end, magic is not truly about the jar or the pouch. It is about intention, belief, and the quiet weaving of our words and thoughts into the energy of the universe. When we focus, speak, and feel with purpose, we are already creating change. The jar or pouch simply gives that energy a place to rest and grow.
Trust your intuition, trust your heart, and remember that your magic begins with you.
Before beginning, it is important to cleanse your jar or pouch both physically and spiritually. Physically, wash jars with soap and water and gently clean or shake out fabric pouches if needed. Spiritually, you can cleanse using smoke from incense or herbs, sound such as bells or clapping, moonlight, prayer, breath, or visualization. There is no single correct method - cleansing is about resetting the energy and preparing the container for your intention.
Before adding anything to your jar or pouch, take time to be clear about what the spell is for and what you are asking for spiritually or emotionally. Hold the container and state your intention out loud or silently. As you add each item, connect it to that purpose. Without intention, the jar or pouch is simply a container. With intention, it becomes a spiritual tool.
Many people choose to seal spell jars with candle wax once the items and intentions are inside. This step is both practical and symbolic, helping to "lock in" the energy of the spell and mark the work as complete. To seal your jar, light a candle that matches your intention and carefully drip wax around the lid and edges of the jar while focusing on your goal or speaking a short affirmation or prayer. Always work on a fire-safe surface and take your time with this step.
You can choose candle colours that support your intention, but if you do not have the exact colour you want, white can be used for any spell. Your intention is what matters most.
Pouches are not sealed with wax. Instead, the knot itself acts as the seal, holding your intention inside the bag.
Working with moon phases can add extra support to your spell, though it is never required. The new moon is often used for setting intentions and new beginnings, the waxing moon for growth and building energy, the full moon for manifestation and charging, and the waning moon for releasing and cleansing. You can work your spell whenever you feel called to do so, but moon phases can help guide the type of energy you are inviting in.
Some people also like to work with the energy of different days of the week. Monday is often linked to emotions and healing, Tuesday to strength and protection, Wednesday to communication and clarity, Thursday to growth and abundance, Friday to love and harmony, Saturday to grounding and banishing, and Sunday to confidence and success. These associations are meant to support your work, not limit it.
Choose items that symbolically connect to your intention. Common categories include stones or crystals, herbs, spices, flowers, plants or tree parts such as leaves or seeds, and other meaningful objects like charms, written intentions, or personal items. If it represents your goal and feels right to you, it belongs in your spell.
When gathering plants, flowers, tree parts, or any items from nature, it's important to do so with respect. Take only what you truly need, never strip an area bare, and avoid harming living plants whenever possible. Many people also like to offer a quiet thank-you, a moment of gratitude, or a small offering in return. Working with nature is a relationship, and treating it with care helps keep that balance and respect in your spiritual practice.
You can place spell jars near doors or windows, on an altar or sacred space, under your bed, or anywhere in your home or workspace where you feel the energy is needed. Spell pouches can be carried in a bag or pocket, kept in your car, or placed under your pillow. Holding or touching your pouch from time to time can also help refresh your intention and reconnect you with the energy of the spell. Both jars and pouches also make wonderful gifts for others.
A spell may feel finished when the energy fades, when your intention has been fulfilled, when the contents naturally break down, or when you simply feel it is time to release it. Trust your intuition - it is part of your spiritual practice and will often guide you more clearly than any rule.
When your spell is complete, take a moment to thank the energy and intention before disposal. If the contents are natural and safe, they can be buried or returned to the earth. If not, remove any natural items you can return to nature and dispose of the rest respectfully in the household trash. Glass jars and fabric pouches can be washed, spiritually cleansed, and reused for future spell work.
Disposal does not end the magic - it simply closes the working with respect.
Birthdays. They're supposed to be a celebration of you. A day of happiness. Maybe a little sadness about getting older (because let's be honest - we are older). But still, a day meant to be celebrated. I used to love my birthday. I share it with my cousin, who is more like a sister to me. She's a year younger, and for as long as I can remember, our birthdays were intertwined. As we got older and had children, celebrating became even better. Tucker, Chayse, and Maddox made it magical. Who better to spend your birthday with than your child, and your family. There are so many memories from that old life. Birthdays filled with noise, laughter, chaos, cake, and joy. A life that felt whole. Now, now it feels like a cruel fucking joke.
Tucker only got sixteen birthdays. And here I am, approaching my third birthday without my boy. I don't want to celebrate. Celebrate what exactly? That I'm alive and my son is dead?
As my third birthday without Tucker approaches, the vice tightens. The anxiety becomes physical. Emotional. Consuming. I feel sick. I spiral into the same questions that never have answers. How? Why? What did I do to deserve this? I know - deep down - my boy would want nothing more than for me to be happy. To love myself. To keep going. To celebrate. Have cake, let others love me. But that's hard when, as a parent, you feel like you failed in the worst way possible. I didn't keep my son alive. How do you celebrate yourself when you feel like a failure at life… as a mother?
Still, I look for him. I look for the gifts my son sends me in the ways only he can - winning gift baskets, finding little treasures, strangers feeling compelled to buy me something that feels so him. Moments that make me stop and smile through tears because I know - I know - it's him. This year, I will honour myself. I will honour my boy. I don't want a big celebration. I don't want family dinners. Seeing people with their children is a pain I don't know if I'll ever fully get over. But this year, my gift to myself - and from my son - is kindness. To be more gentle with myself. To love myself more. To learn who I am in this new life, this new version of me. To find my spiritual path. And through all of it, I know my boy will be walking beside me.
How does the world keep going after a loss so devastating it splits you in two? Mine stopped on October 27, 2022. Time has not softened the blow. It didn't heal me. It simply dragged me forward while my shattered soul and heart stayed behind with my son. The sun still rises, people still make plans, children still laugh - but I live in a world that ended the day Tucker left it. My one and only. My mini-me. My boy. My best friend.
Tucker had the most beautiful blue eyes that held light in them and sparked . A smile that felt like home. A laugh that sounded made you laugh just because of how contagious it was - unique, pure, unguarded, alive and right from his soul. And his hugs... his hugs were medicine. They reached into your bones, into your pain, into the places words could never touch. That is the hug I need. The hug I would give anything for. The hug this world can never replace.
Who am I now? I don't recognize myself. The woman I was died with him. People talk about grief like it's something you "move through", something you eventually leave behind. But this isn't grief-it's a permanent severing. It rewired my body, my mind, my spirit. I am not healing from this. I am learning how to exist inside it and barely learning at that.
Everyone has advice. Everyone has something to say. And yet the loudest voices often belong to those who still get to tuck their children in at night. They still hear their kids call "Mom". They still get hugs, milestones, futures. Hope.
They speak from a world I no longer live in. They haven't been altered at the core. They haven't had their identity ripped away. They didn't lose their only child, right before their eyes. Finding them, doing CPR - being told we had to say goodbye. Their lives continued. Mine ended and what remains is something unrecognizable.
I still go crazy trying to understand why. Why Tucker. Why my child. Why this pain had to exist. I begged the universe, God, spirit-anything that might answer me. I fell to my knees more times than I can count. I continue to break, over and over again. Logic failed me. Faith shattered. Nothing made sense. And yet... my spirituality is the only place I still feel him. It's the only place where I don't feel completely abandoned. The only place where the veil feels thin enough that I can breathe him in again - through signs, through sensations, through moments that hit me out of nowhere and leave me sobbing because I know he's near.
I don't connect to Tucker just through memories alone. I connect through energy. Through something deeper than this physical world. Through the quiet knowing that love does not die, even when bodies do. I don't know how to "move on". I don't think I ever will. I don't want to. I want to carry him in my blood, my soul, my breath, my spirit. I want to find him in the sky, in the wind, in the moments where time seems to pause and my heart whispers his name.
This path is not one I chose. Not one I ever thought I would walk. But it is the one I was thrown onto. And if I am going to survive this life without my son, it will only be by becoming spiritual enough to meet him where he now exists. I am still his mother. In this life. In the next. In every realm that matters. And that connection-that is what I am holding onto.
Spell jars and pouches are something I've always loved making. They became even more meaningful during the time I shared this practice with Tucker. Creating them was a quiet, peaceful way to focus on care, comfort, and protection. Even now, making them feels like a gentle ritual - a way to wrap intention, love, and spiritual safety into something I can hold. These jars - sometimes bags, sometimes bottles - hold energy, intention, and protective forces. They act as talismans layered with herbs, stones, and symbols that shield your home, your energy, and your personal space. Across cultures, they've been used for centuries to absorb negativity, ward off unwanted energy, and strengthen boundaries.
Protection magic isn't about fear. It's about setting loving boundaries, calling in calm, and creating space for supportive energy. Jars and pouches can be kept at home, carried with you, or given to someone you care about. Their purpose is simple: to support safety, grounding, and emotional and spiritual protection.
Before you begin, refer to my "Preparing Your Spell Jar or Spell Pouch" guide for cleansing and preparing your items.
My go-to protection jar or pouch is intentionally simple. I use a small glass jar or a black pouch, depending on what feels right. I cleanse myself and my items, taking a quiet moment to settle my energy. Then I set my intention clearly: I am surrounded by safety, love, and spiritual protection. Only peaceful and positive energy is welcome in my space. I release what no longer serves me and welcome calm, strength, and protection into my life.
I layer the items in this order, moving slowly and intentionally, often using a small funnel:
Ground black pepper, dried thyme, dried basil, table salt, dried rosemary, dried thyme, a small rolled piece of paper with thank you for your protection, love and I am surrounded by protection and love, a piece of a dried bayleaf, a small cinnamon stick, a piece of fresh cedar, one fresh sage leaf, two small fresh mint leaves, dried lavender, dried dandelion, and a dried rosebud.
For stones, I use small chips or small pieces: tiger's eye, black tourmaline, clear quartz, and amethyst.
If using a jar, I seal it with black, blue and white candle wax, letting it drip while focusing on protection and calm. If using a pouch, I tie it with black, blue and white string. The sealing itself is part of the spell - grounding and intentional. I thank my spirit animals, guides and teachers for guiding me, and for providing me both protection and love.
Protection magic doesn't require rare ingredients. Many everyday items are powerful when used with intention.
Stones and Crystals: Black tourmaline, obsidian, onyx, smoky quartz, hematite, amethyst, clear quartz, tiger's eye, labradorite, jet, and black agate. Even a single stone works if added with intention.
Herbs and Spices: Rosemary, bay leaf, sage, thyme, basil, mint, oregano, parsley, salt, black pepper, cinnamon, cloves, chili flakes, and ginger.
Flowers and Plants: Rose, lavender, marigold, chamomile, sunflower petals, dandelion, carnations, and white flowers in general for peaceful spiritual protection.
Trees and Nature: Pine, oak, cedar, willow, birch, and rowan. Leaves, bark, acorns, pine needles, or small twigs can be used respectfully. Always gather respectfully and take only what has already fallen when possible.
Other Meaningful Items: Written intentions, prayers, protective symbols, sigils, keys, rusty nails, charms, talismans, or small personal items that make you feel safe.
Colors can enhance protection: black absorbs negativity, white cleanses, red brings strength, brown protects home and family, and blue brings calm.
Magic can also be guided by moon phases, days of the week, or intuition. Please refer to the How to make a spell Jar/Pouche guide for more information. Affirmations can be spoken while building, sealing, or holding your jar or pouch. Use your own words or the one above.
Place jars near doors, windows, altars, or sacred spaces. Carry pouches in a bag, pocket, or under a pillow. Touching your pouch can refresh your intention. Signs that a jar or pouch is complete, along with instructions for safely dismantling or releasing them, are in my How to Make a Spell Jar or Spell Pouch guide. Magic is the weaving of intention, emotion, and words with the universe. Your focus, care, and belief bring the spell to life. The jar or pouch is the vessel.
I am furious.
I am broken.
I am screaming into the emptiness
and it answers with silence.
The day I lost Tuck, part of me died.
Not a small part.
Not something that could ever be patched back together.
I died.
I walk this world hollowed out, trying to breathe through pain that never stops.
I am angry at the universe.
Angry at fate.
Angry at the silence that feels like betrayal.
I have called for signs-for answers-for even the smallest trace of him.
Sometimes nothing comes.
Or maybe it does... and my grief is too loud, too heavy, too blinding to let me see.
And still, I survive.
I survive because I must.
Because the love of Tuck cannot end where his life did.
Because a love that big, that loud, that rare-does not disappear.
He deserves to be remembered.
So I carry him.
In every heartbeat.
Every breath.
Every rage-filled scream-I carry him.
I search the sky, the storms, the quiet between the winds.
I search for Tucker in every shadow, every whisper, every impossible glimmer of hope.
Sometimes the spirits answer.
Sometimes they don't.
But I will never stop reaching.
I do not write to comfort anyone.
I do not write to make this pain easier to swallow.
I write because it refuses to be silent.
Because Tucker's love refuses to fade.
Because being loved by him was something sacred.
My grief.
My anger.
My love.
They are all part of him.
And they demand to be spoken.
To be carried.
To be remembered.
This is my truth.
This is my life after Tuck.
This is the voice of a mother who refuses to let her son's love disappear-
even when the world feels unbearably cruel.
I will say his name.
I will share his pictures.
I will keep his memory alive.
Even when it makes others uncomfortable.
Because my son deserves to be remembered.
And I will not shrink my love
to make others feel at ease.