Our Articles

What does it mean to be 'literate' in grief? For families in NZ and beyond, grief literacy is the key to navigating loss with compassion. In part one of our series, we explore how understanding the language of grief can help us heal together and build resilient families.

When the word cancer enters your family’s life, it feels like the ground beneath you shifts. The journey through childhood cancer is not a straight path. It twists and turns, sometimes smooth, often rocky.

How do you grieve a child you've lost while fighting for a child in crisis? A father's raw reflection on the impossible triage of grief - learning to hold loss and hope simultaneously while supporting whānau through unimaginable challenges.

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?

The messages arrive like small, glowing birds on the screen of a phone you don’t have the energy to lift. They all say a version of the same sentence... "Let me know if you need anything." It is a well-intentioned, generous, and utterly useless offer. In the landscape of crisis—whether it’s the sterile, beeping world of a hospital ward or the heavy silence of a grieving home—a person’s capacity is the first casualty.

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.

When our son Finley was diagnosed with Wilms tumour, he chose a new name — Rah Rah. In the middle of childhood cancer treatment, this became his way of coping and holding on to his spirit. This is the story of how children create survival strategies, and how as parents we can honour their resilience.