I got my membership card on October 17, 2017.

It came through a message from a friend, someone who had lost their parent shortly before I lost mine. The message wasn’t much. A brief exchange. More of a nod of acknowledgment, a glance, a tip of the hat between me and this person.

Hey, I’m so sorry for your loss. I’m here for you if you want to talk about it.

It was a simple message, but so powerful. This was my initiation into the club—the Dead Parents Club.

They had been through it, and I knew their credentials. There was comfort in that connection. But also isolation, because only those in “the club” truly understand. Our pain isn’t more valid than anyone else’s. It’s just different. A bond forged in shared trauma.

Over time, the Dead Parents Club evolved into something bigger for me, a community for all types of loss. Whether you’ve lost a parent, a sibling, a partner, a friend, or are supporting someone through their grief, if you’ve experienced deep loss, you’ve got your card. Memberships have reluctantly been sent. It’s heartbreaking having to welcome new members, but with each new addition, the community strengthens.

In this club, grief isn’t taboo, it’s part of our language. I have an irreplaceable group of friends, and we talk openly about our feelings. We talk about our triggers—the moments when grief sneaks up on us, whether it’s a song that brings back memories, or an unexpected email from Bath & Body Works advertising Mother’s Day sales. We dig deep into our emotions, unafraid to face the heaviness together. That’s why this club exists. We help each other through the unexpected waves. When one of us stumbles, the others are there, first to check in.

Disneyland has even become a part of this. On a beautiful SoCal Friday night, we meet up, grab some delicious food (seriously, Disneyland food is underrated), enjoy some cocktails, and talk. Sometimes we vent about our weeks. Sometimes we share memories of our lost loved ones. The topics aren’t always heavy, but we never shy away from the hard conversations when they arise. We’ve built a support system that doesn’t just exist in times of grief but in the everyday moments too. We’re there for each other. Then we go on Incredicoaster.

Though the name may sound somber and depressing, the truth is this group is about more than sadness. It’s about resilience. It’s about finding joy and living your life fully, even in the face of loss. There’s comfort in knowing we aren’t alone in this. The club isn’t just about remembering our lost loved ones, it’s about learning how to move forward without them, and doing it together. There’s something powerful in knowing that the people who walk beside you in your grief are also the ones who will help you celebrate life.

This is the club, and I’m thankful we have each other.