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10.4.25 | 💛 How I'm honoring my grandmother

An invitation to feel everything, soft pajamas for fall, the only books on motherhood I recommend, and our next virtual event

The Good Trade and Kayti Christian

Oct 4

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Welcome to The Weekend Edit, a Saturday morning ritual from The Good Trade.

Happy Saturday,

When AmyAnn asked me to write this weekend’s edition, I planned to reflect on returning from maternity leave and balancing my new role as a mother with all the former versions of myself: writer, podcast host, and content strategist here at The Good Trade.

But while drafting, I received the news that my grandmother — the matriarch of our family who raised three children, ten grandchildren, and seven great-grandchildren — had passed away. Though we had known she was nearing the end, the permanence of her absence still landed with a sharp ache. And so it feels only right to bring these feelings to the page.

I’m no stranger to grief. My husband and I spent years navigating infertility and loss, a sorrow that softened with the birth of our daughter. But with my grandmother, grief feels different — reshaping me, asking only to be acknowledged, not resolved. Her absence leaves a space that can’t be filled, only tended to through stories and quiet, daily remembrance.

Facing this kind of loss is disorienting. Love and impermanence feel intertwined, and that tension between holding on and letting go feels like the essence of being human. How do we keep living with grief by our side? How do I play tummy time with my daughter, sip coffee on the patio, or shop for a fall jacket knowing part of my heart is elsewhere? Perhaps the answer is simply to keep going while letting it have its place.

It’s brave work, allowing ourselves to feel the weight of loss while continuing to live. But when we do, grief softens us. It reminds us what matters and becomes a gentle nudge toward living intentionally, with presence and love as our guides.

I will miss my grandmother, of course. But I carry her in the ways she shaped life: her love of artichokes and red wine and Montana and the perfect shade of lipstick. In our final conversation, she asked about my daughter, how she was eating (what is it with grandmas always wanting to plump babies up!?), and who she got her button nose from. Those small, everyday details feel like love made visible.

I will leave you with a poem that I’ve held closely over the last few days:

In Blackwater Woods by Mary Oliver (Excerpt)

To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.

💛 Today’s Weekend Edit Includes:
→ What our 280,000+ readers clicked most this week
→ How I’m leaning into my feelings, including my favorite books on grief and motherhood, meal delivery kits for easy nights, and the one self-care product I swear by
→ Simple ideas for shifting routines, a lemon roasted potato salad, and the best transitional sweater
→ A mindfulness meditation we did together in our last meetup (plus an invitation to our next virtual gathering!)

Xx,
Kayti

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