
When Pride Month rolled around the year Leo came out as Transgender, I was slowly starting to find my footing as the parent of a transgender child. I had begun to entertain the idea of hanging a Pride Flag from our house and was discussing it with my therapist, and I had started shopping for tee-shirts online.
Then, halfway through June, my Grampa died.
Whatever emotions I was feeling about Leo being transgender were compounded by the devastating loss of my Grampa. It felt as if I had been thrust into a pit of grief I couldn't claw my way back from.
Every June, when Pride Month rolls around, my inbox fills with rainbows, and my social media feed is bright with joy. I scroll through smiling faces at parades and banners waving "Love is Love" and "Support Trans Kids." I read story after story of liberation, courage, and belonging.
Yet, a part of me aches with a sadness I can't shake. I used to think it was because I have a complicated relationship with Father's Day. Then I realized it was because my Grampa died right around Father's Day. In fact, the year after he passed away, the anniversary of his death and Father's Day were on the same day, and it was almost more than I could bear.
Maybe June feels like a complicated month for you, too. While Pride Month is a time of celebration for many, it can also stir grief in parents, especially those still finding their way or who have lost something in the process of loving their child well.
Maybe you're grieving a version of your child you thought you knew.
Perhaps your family isn't speaking to you since you chose to affirm your trans child. It could be that your church home no longer feels like home. Maybe your child is distant, and you wonder if they know how hard you're trying.
Pride shines a bright light on the beauty of LGBTQ+ joy, and that light, while good, can sometimes cast shadows too. It can highlight where we feel behind, left out, or unsure where we fit.
You're not wrong for feeling what you feel. Grief and celebration can share the same month, the same day, and sometimes even the same hour.
Pride can mean holding space for the both/and. It can look like:
- Pride that your child is living more fully into themselves.
- Grief that you're still catching up and that catching up is hard.
- Pride that you're showing up in new ways.
- Grief for the friends, communities, or beliefs you've lost along the way.
If Pride feels tender this year, you don't have to fake joy to belong. You're not a bad parent for feeling heartache alongside love. Pride doesn't require perfection. It asks for presence. You're allowed to be a work in progress. You're allowed to sit quietly on the edges of the parade. You're allowed to cry, even while wearing a rainbow pin.
The fact that you're still showing up—still learning, still loving—that's something to be proud of, too.
A Benediction for the Grieving Parent This Pride Month
May your grief be honored, not hurried.
May your questions find room to breathe.
May love lead you, even through the fog.
And may you know this: You belong exactly as you are.
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