Forever Bentley: A Mother's Journey Through Grief

Grief is a journey I never wanted to take, yet here I am, navigating it one day at a time. Some days feel impossibly heavy, the weight of Bentley’s absence pressing down on me in ways I can’t even put into words. But then there are moments—small, unexpected, and beautiful—where I feel him so close, as if he’s reaching out to remind me that he’s still here.

We’re in Nashville this weekend for my husband’s birthday, trying to escape reality for a little while. It’s supposed to be a fun getaway, a break from the grief that follows me everywhere. But grief doesn’t take vacations. It’s with me in every quiet moment, every thought, every place we go.

We decided to go to an arcade—just something lighthearted, something fun. And it was. The lights, the sounds, the excitement—it all felt good. I walked up to a game, ready to play, and as I looked up, the screen read: “Get the gems, Bentley Bear.” I froze. Bentley Bear. My sweet Bentley. My little boy who loved everything with wheels, who filled our days with laughter, who I miss more than words can express.

Then I turned and saw a Toy Story game. Another reminder of him, clear as day. It was like he was saying, “Mommy, I’m here. I’m always here.” And I believe he is.

Bentley is everywhere I am. In the smallest details, in the things that most people would overlook, he makes his presence known. A song on the radio. A butterfly that lands right in front of me. His name in places I least expect. It’s all him. It has to be.

Grief is painful, but love never ends. And as much as I wish I could hold him in my arms again, I know he’s holding onto me in every way he can.

I love you, Bentley. Keep showing up, my sweet boy. Mommy sees you.