Yesterday, I had a conversation with a colleague that started the way many do—talking about life’s milestones. She shared stories about her young children, including the one she’s expecting, and I talked about my daughter, who is getting married and starting her career. It was warm and easy, the kind of conversation that reminds you of all the joyful things happening around us.

And then, she paused. Gently, she asked about Tom. He was an artist, right? She hesitated, then followed up with, I hope you don’t mind me asking.

I told her immediately: I LOVE it. Thank you!

The truth is, when someone we love dies, people often avoid mentioning them. I get it; I used to be one of them. I acknowledge that bringing up something so painful is uncomfortable and scary. What if we make them cry? What is the “right” thing to say?

But in that silence, something else happens—our opportunities to talk about our person fade. Over time, the name of someone who once filled our world with love, laughter, and presence gets spoken less and less.

That’s why I was so grateful my colleague asked. She told me about her friend, whose baby was stillborn, and how much it helped to hear people say his name out loud—how it kept him “alive” in a way. His name was Chason.

And my son is Tom. And I love saying that. He’s still a part of me, my family, and the world in visible and unseen ways. When you ask about him, you allow me to say his name and to talk about how beautiful he was to me. To remember, to share, to keep him in the conversation of my life.

So if you ever wonder whether you should bring up someone who has died, if you should say their name—please do. It’s not a reminder that they’re gone. We already know. It’s an acknowledgment that they lived, that they mattered, and that they still do.

So, thank you—for asking. 💙