Grief, Gratitude, and Giving: A Personal Reflection for Mental Health Awareness Month
- Shelly Straub
- May 24
- 5 min read
At Relentless Partner, we believe fundraising is ultimately about human connection—the stories we tell, the legacies we honor, and the meaning we create through generosity. In recognition of Mental Health Awareness Month, I’m sharing a personal reflection on grief, memory, and how charitable giving became part of my own healing journey.
This isn’t just a story about loss—it’s about the transformational power of giving, and how small acts of generosity can bring light into even the heaviest moments. For those who are navigating grief while serving others, I hope this message reminds you: you’re not alone.
Big losses hit us hard and in profound ways. I lost all three of my grandparents before I was an adult. Grief as a child seemed short, and frankly, I don’t remember a lot of it. Losing my daddy though as a full-fledged adult with children of my own has shaken me, and it seems long, difficult and time consuming.
It was only when I had kids of my own that I truly understood all the sacrifices that parents make on any given Friday --- really any day of the week. But, Fridays were my daddy’s day. He loved the Littlefield Wildcats and was a passionate booster for local student athletes. On any given Friday during football season, my daddy could be found under the Friday night lights in his custom-made maroon and white cowboy boots with his signature Wildcat ballcap at our football stadium. In fact, any stadium, basketball gym, or auditorium I was in, my daddy was there, but what made him special is he wasn’t there just for me, he loved all the kids who played sports and would cheer as loud for them as he did for me.
I miss him immensely and yet, I am grateful that I said all the things to my daddy while he was alive. Though, I do not find: we ever get enough. Enough time with the people we love. No matter how much time we have. What’s important is to make the best of the time we have.
Daddy used to tease me that he stole my Mama, because I used to wrap my arms around her legs as a three-year-old little girl and say, my mama, so jealous of him. When I was old enough to know what it meant, I asked him to adopt me. His example and how he loved and raised me is one of the most powerful examples I have of God’s love for his children.
“God decided in advance to adopt us into his own family by bringing us to himself through Jesus Christ. This is what he wanted to do, and it gave him great pleasure.” Ephesians 1:5
I love that my daddy chose me and my mama, just as God chose his children, and that it gave him great pleasure to have loved us, his family, his grandchildren, great grandchildren, and all the people in his home community of Littlefield.
We found a way as a family to make meaning out of the loss of my daddy by donating to the Littlefield Emergency Medical Services (EMS) and providing a scholarship to a student athlete at Littlefield High School.
These may seem like small acts of charity, but they have provided a tremendous sense of purpose and meaning for my own grief. I’m proud that the EMS was able to buy much needed equipment thanks to the generosity of our family and friends. I’m invested and care about the future of a young man I do not know except through his scholarship application. I’ve enjoyed handwriting thank you notes to the people who loved him and us and through many acts of kindness sent cards, brought meals, visited with us, made gifts, sent flowers. Gratitude is really a gift to share even in the middle grief. Gratitude is also contagious; I always feel better after sharing thanks. Shawn Achor’s research in the Happiness Advantage affirms that. Also, I do believe there is still great power in a handwritten note or card. They have meant so much.
May is Mental Health Awareness Month, and I’m proud to share my own message about mental health because grief doesn’t just hit hard in one day, one month, one year, or a lifetime. It shows up in all sorts of unexpected places.
Talk about it! If you know, you know. #IYKYK
Tampa Bay Thrives has some of the best resources on their blog, and I’m reminded that walking is like moving meditation and prayer for me. Solvitur ambulando. It is solved by walking. Movement has helped.
Social connections matter. My friends, family and a sense of community has helped. I keep talking about my dad when people genuinely ask, “How are you doing?” Sometimes they remind me, “I know you lost your dad.” It shows me they care. Check in on your friends when they’re grieving. It really does help to share the stories. A good friend, Joena, shared with me, that even in death, our loved one is never really gone until the last story is shared about him/her. I loved teaching the grandkids and greats how daddy loved to eat Texas chocolate sheet cake, from the middle slices out. My daughter, Luna and I made some brownies the other day, and she asked for the middle one like her grandpa.
What has also mattered is that I am a person of faith, and death isn’t the final word.
For some reason knowing that the sun/son rises and each new generation faces some of the same challenges has been a comfort. Perhaps it’s the melancholy, the rhythm of this scripture or my sadness that finds it soothing that the rivers and waters continue to flow. Nor, is there anything new under the sun. However, the earth and God’s love endures forever.
Nature and it’s beautiful changing of the seasons are a constant reminder. I’m heading out there to walk and hike some more; my daddy loved to hike and walk, and I find him there in those quiet moments. I also found this photo of an epic hike he did as a young man!
In honor of May being Mental Health Awareness Month, enjoy a few of these resources that I’ve found helpful:
Resources on Employee Assistance Programs (EAP) from Tampa Bay Thrives
My Therapist: find one by demystifying the process from Tampa Bay Thrives: Video stories from others about their mental health journey
988 – Suicide Hotline
211 – Crisis Line
If you’ve ever helped a donor honor a loved one through a memorial gift or endowment, you’ve seen how grief can become generosity, and how storytelling can sustain a legacy. In our work as fundraisers, these moments matter deeply.
Let’s keep telling the stories that connect people to purpose—and let’s not forget to check in on ourselves and each other along the way.
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