Our Articles

One of the most isolating feelings during times of grief is the sense that no one truly understands. But when we share our personal story reflections, we create a space for connection.

When you're walking through childhood cancer, life becomes a mix of hospital rooms, brave smiles, and prayers whispered late at night. But sometimes — there’s sunshine, waves, laughter, and a small hand holding yours tightly at the beach. These small, simple moments? They’re everything. Especially for siblings like Skyelar — our glass children, quietly navigating the storm.

The sterile language of hospitals can feel isolating. This guide helps New Zealand parents decode medical jargon, ask the right questions, and find their voice, ensuring they are an active part of their child's care team.

Understand how well-intentioned words can unintentionally cause pain during crisis. Learn what to say and what to avoid when supporting whānau through childhood illness in New Zealand.

The messages glow on the screen: “Let me know if you need anything.” It is a generous, heartfelt, and profoundly useless offer. In the landscape of crisis, the person you are offering to help is the least capable person in the world of telling you how. Grief and fear are thieves, and their greatest heist is executive function. Asking them to project-manage their own rescue is an impossible task. So, what is the language of real help?

n this raw and powerful blog post, a father confronts his son's childhood cancer diagnosis—a battle that echoes his own past trauma. Grappling with profound grief after a stillbirth, "The Silent Hum of What If" is an unflinching guide to fierce advocacy, resilience, and the work of staying present when the ground shifts beneath your feet.

Join Gus Greenslade on a raw and honest journey through fatherhood, childhood cancer, and grief. The Silent Hum Project is a space for stories of resilience, love, and finding strength in vulnerability. A must-read for anyone navigating loss in New Zealand.