5 Years in Heaven

On June 23, 2019, my son, Chad Morton Koenig - may his memory be forever blessed - passed away. He was thirty years old.

Two years later, on June 3, 2021 - which just happens to be the birthday of my son Nicholas Morton Koenig - Sacred Sorrows became an official non-profit organization.

Since then, I know (in my own grieving-mother-kind-of-way) that Chad has spiritually helped hundreds of deceased children usher their living moms to the door of hope that Sacred Sorrows opens.

I also know (in my own proud-mother-kind-of-way) that Nicholas - and many of my friends and loved ones - and sometimes even strangers - have tangibly and financially made it possible that these same women have experienced transformation and meaning through their devastation because of the programs of Sacred Sorrows. Two examples:

"This weekend has been healing for my whole being. It has been a balm for my aching heart and wounded spirit. I did not know what to expect but I received so much grace, love, understanding and encouragement." - Bev, Retreat 2024

"I appreciated the focus on moving forward in my grief - and in how God is shaping me in my journey" - Linda, Afternoon of Reflection 2024

Hundreds have attended our in-person events.

Thousands have found our website, our blog articles, our podcasts, and recently, our meditations have been approved and uploaded to the meditation app "Insight Timer". More videos and online programs are on the way.

First, I really miss Chad. I miss his laugh and his wacky sense of humor. I miss his gentle spirit, and I miss his hugs. I miss everything about him, even his occasional grumpiness. I know I'm still his mom and we still have a relationship but I miss being his mom live and in-person, and even though I understand and accept that he is not here and is not coming back, I want him back.

Secondly, I know he's where he was born to go. I know he's still doing his part for the Divine Purpose, as I am doing mine. I am fully convinced of this. That said, I still want him back.

And finally, I need help and I will always need help.

I need people like you. Like Nicholas, and my family and friends, and all of our readers, and everyone who doesn't know about us yet but will. I need the help of grieving moms who want to pay it forward, the help of compassionate friends who have the heart (and stomach) for this kind of pain, the help of prayer warriors and professionals, and the help of clergy, strangers and angels.

And I need anything you're willing to give - from prayers, to volunteer hours, to financial support.

Because, you see, Chad died

and he went to heaven

and I mean,

what's a girl to do?

So I did this.

And the women keep coming because the kids keep dying,

and the diseases don't end, and the drugs aren't going away,

and the guns still have bullets,

and the minds are fragile and the hearts are deceived

and the lives are stolen,

and the babies are born sleeping,

and

and

And I still need your help. Because it can't be done without you and you make more of a difference than you can ever imagine.

And I know (in a fellow-human-being-kind-of-way) that you can imagine.

So please imagine, and act.

Donate once or donate monthly. Any amount, any way. It all makes a difference.

People like you are helping mothers like me. A ton of grieving mothers like me.

Imagine that.

By making a gift of financial support, you'll join our Forget-Me-Not Founders Circle, a special group of donors who are cultivating hope through intentional giving. Thank you.