Their sons died from drug overdoses. Here's the unconventional way they grieved.

Grief affects us all – but not in ways we always consider. People die, yes, but so do pets. We can grieve dreams, jobs, our health, past versions of ourselves. Grief is not linear; it does not come in stages, a common misconception. It's unique to the individual.

After embarking on a series to document different grief journeys, we asked for your input. What kinds of grief had you experienced? Would you be willing to share your story publicly?

With more than 700 responses and counting, here's a look at what some of you shared. You can submit your own story here.

Start the day smarter. Get all the news you need in your inbox each morning.

Astrid Oliver, 56 & DeAnne Slaughter, 57

"Both of our sons died from a drug overdose. We found each other in a support group. One of the things we discussed was that we couldn't find anyone talking about what it's like to live life after this happens, long after it happens. 'Do things get better?' 'What is this experience like?' 'What might it be like for me?' These were some of the questions we had in the early days, when everything was new and terrible, and we were trying to find something to connect to. So, we started a podcast ("Two Moms with Two Dead Kids") talking about what life was like, three years and eight years after the deaths of our children. Will it help anyone? We don't know. But here we are.

In our experience, when your child dies of a drug overdose, you feel like a failure. You feel like you're responsible, and you feel like you really, really suck. You lose your stamina and your confidence. You lose perspective on the person you were, and the parent you were. You feel completely defeated.

It is easy to get frozen in the loss, and it is not a good feeling. You have the sense that when this happens, you will never move forward or heal. But maybe you can heal. Maybe you can shift to a place where you connect to the love, and not the loss, of your child. Maybe you can appreciate yourself for who you were, and who you are now. We started a year-long conversation to find out what that might be like, and how to do it."

Carlos Olivas, 58

"I am a caregiver for my dad, who is living with Alzheimer’s disease. He is flourishing as an artist, and as a family, we normalize life with dementia as best as we can. We do not talk about my brother’s passing with my dad, because we want to protect him, so I carry my grief quietly.

As a caregiver, I struggle with masking my mourning process while showing up with love each day. Caregiver support groups and therapy have been essential in navigating my grief. Long before my brother passed from alcoholism in 2022, I was already living with anticipatory grief, ambiguous loss, and the cumulative grief that comes with dementia. Having safe spaces to talk openly reminds me I’m not alone in this journey.

Our family was also selected to be part of the 2025 PBS documentary 'Matter of Mind: My Alzheimer’s,' which offers a powerful and intimate view of three families, including ours, navigating the challenges and beauty of caregiving."

Charlotte Seehafer, 59

"It’s been over seven years since I found Justin dead in his condo. Some days are OK. Some are not. Over the years I have tried many things to help my grief. Most have failed spectacularly. His 36th birthday was last week, but he is forever 28. I still get hit with random 'grief storms' that come out of nowhere and can last a few days. It’s taken time, but I have learned to be aware of my son’s birthday and death day and to let people around me know what to do if I start to spin out. 

I had done everything right. I sent him to Catholic school. We joined Cub Scouts and I was a leader for five years. We went on family adventures and went to Disneyland every year. We gave him a good life. I was a teacher and my husband was a police officer. We were involved in his life. We never expected this to happen. But it did. I still feel a hole in my chest. It still hurts. Grief is hard. Staying alive for your family is hard. I still feel very alone and lonely."

This article originally appeared on USA TODAY: Their sons died from drug overdoses. Here's the unconventional way they grieved.