We do not gather to measure someone else's sorrow, offer easy comfort, or suggest tidy conclusions. We sit together simply so no woman in Denmark carries her loss in foreign isolation.

Judita, Founder & Facilitator

The Community I Once Needed

Building a life in another country means starting over—learning the language, going to work, and gradually finding your place. When someone you love dies, even the simplest parts of life can take more strength than you have that day.

I lost my child here in Denmark. I know what it means to return to work, learn another language, smile, and answer everyday questions when everything inside you has changed—while the world around you carries on as usual and you are learning how to live and get through each day.

I have lived in five countries, and my life spans different cultures. I have also written a book, but I know some experiences are difficult to put into words. Sometimes, what we need first is someone we can simply sit beside.

Grieving in Another Language

Sometimes, being understood begins with someone willing to listen.

There are days when learning a language means remembering how to ask for directions, make an appointment, or explain why you were absent from class.

And then there are days when you need to say: my child died.

You may know the words. Saying them aloud is another matter.

I lost my child here in Denmark. Alongside that loss, there was still an ordinary life to attend to. Work. Language lessons. Questions to answer. Things to understand. The world continued to ask for my attention when much of it was somewhere else.

Learning another language takes concentration. You listen carefully, search for the right word, and try again when you are misunderstood. After loss, even a familiar conversation can feel exhausting. Doing all of this in a language you are still learning adds another effort, often invisible to the person speaking to you.

Sometimes, a short answer is simply the answer you have the energy to give.

With You Denmark