Bartlett-Heritage Funeral Home & Cremation Center

10/12/2025

09/28/2025

This looks about right

09/28/2025

You don’t understand what real pain is until the day you close your Mom’s casket.
That final sound—the cold, hollow click—tears your soul apart in a way no words will ever capture.

It’s the moment you realize you’ll never hear her gentle voice soothe your heart again.
Never feel the warmth of her hand in yours.
Never see her waiting by the door, her eyes lighting up just because you came home.

The world outside keeps moving, pretending nothing has changed.
But inside, time has stopped—you’re frozen in that second,
watching the woman who gave you life,
your comfort, your shelter, your everything,
being lowered into the ground.

That’s when grief stops being a feeling and becomes who you are.
That’s when emptiness takes root—not as a fleeting ache,
but as the life you now carry.

Because when you bury your Mom,
you don’t just say goodbye to a person.
You bury the one soul who loved you first,
loved you most,
and can never, ever be replaced. 💔

09/13/2025

07/11/2025

No mother wants to live the rest of her life without one or more of her children.

05/29/2025

The hardest thing to have to live through is the loss of a child….

05/25/2025

Grief brain is real. It's not in your imagination—and it's definitely not you being lazy, scattered, or "not trying hard enough." It's what happens when your entire world gets blown apart and your brain can't keep up with the wreckage.
You forget things.
You lose track of time.
You stare at a sentence and realize you've read it four times already.
Even the simplest, everyday tasks feel huge.
This is your brain in survival mode. When someone you love dies, your system scrambles. It tries to protect you from the unbearable. It shuts some things down just to keep you upright. Focus, memory, motivation—they all take a hit. That's biology doing what it does when something vital goes missing.
Other people might not see it. They might think you're just distracted or not paying attention. But grief changes your brain. You're not broken—you're grieving. And your brain is responding exactly how a brain does when it's trying to process something it never wanted to understand.
So if your mind feels foggy, if you're forgetting things or falling behind, take a breath. Be kind to yourself. Your brain is doing what it can to survive a reality it never asked for. And you're still here. That matters.

05/24/2025

When Your Adult Child Leaves This Earth

They weren’t supposed to go first.
Not the one you carried, taught to walk, watched grow, and stood beside as they became their own person.

Losing an adult child is a sorrow few can fully understand. The world often forgets that no matter how old our children get, they are still our babies. We carry every version of them inside us—the toddler with sticky fingers, the teenager with big dreams, the adult still figuring life out. And when they are gone, it’s all those versions we mourn.

You lose not just their physical presence, but their voice on the other end of the phone, the text that said “I made it home,” the plans that would have unfolded over years. You lose their future, and a piece of yours.

Grief after losing an adult child is quiet but heavy. You might still go to work, smile in public, cook dinner—but the ache never fully leaves. You find yourself reaching for a phone call that will never come, scrolling through photos, or whispering into the silence, “I miss you.”

If you’re walking through this pain, please know you are not alone. There is no timeline for grief and no right way to carry it. Be gentle with yourself. Speak their name. Share their story. Let their memory live in your every breath.

Even though they are no longer here, the love remains. It always will.

Until I meet you In Heaven