The grief of a stepmom. This post has had so many titles: The Invisible Grief of a Stepmom, The Silent Grief of a Stepmom, The Lonely Grief of a Stepmom. . . the grief of a stepmom is like no other grief because it feels so homeless. My stepson died a few weeks ago. Marc and I have only been married eight months and Mackay, my stepson, lived in NYC and we rarely got to see him (he didn't get to come to the wedding or Cabo and didn't stay with us when he came to town), so I didn't have much of a relationship with him. So there is a weird layer of loosing someone I hardly knew and I feel like that is the layer that makes the most sense to everyone. While the family was mourning, I was the one organizing all of the meals coming in from our wonderful friends and neighbors, I was cleaning up one meal and setting up for the next. I was keeping the house in order and making sure Marc was able to surround himself with the friends and family he needed to make it through the