Cremation Services of Central New Jersey

08/17/2026

07/21/2026

https://www.facebook.com/share/p/1Bqf1XYePB/

I always notice that when I come across someone I haven’t seen in a while, and I bring up the person I lost, they look at me in horror.

Their face changes and they suddenly look like they’re trying to figure out what they should say, or that they can’t believe I’m still talking about it.

Sometimes it feels like there’s an elephant in the room.

And that elephant is my grief.

If I say their name in a crowded room it goes quiet.
If I start to tell my story nobody really wants to listen.

My grief is the elephant in the room because everybody is always trying so hard to get around it and pretending it’s not there.

Here’s the thing…for me that’s never been an option.

What some people don’t understand is that I can’t just live the rest of my life pretending what happened never happened.

It’s crazy to think that I would stop speaking about someone I love so much, because that would be like pretending they didn’t exist.

Instead of avoiding the elephant in the room, I wish people would just ask me questions, share a memory, or even just be kind.

I did some research and found out that elephants are actually big-hearted, compassionate and very protective of those they love.

They also have some very unique ways of dealing with their own grief.

So maybe the elephant in the room isn’t just my grief, maybe it’s also me.

And the only people that can really see me…are those that also have an elephant in the room.

Gary Sturgis
Author of: ‘SURVIVING GRIEF – 365 Days A Year’

07/13/2026

After going through what I still (to this day anyway) consider the worst thing that ever happened to me, I’ve started to see people differently. Not because I’m trying to judge them, but because grief has a way of removing all the filters.

I just don’t have the energy to pretend anymore or have the patience for relationships that were already hanging on by a thread.

Before my loss, I worked really hard to keep certain relationships together. And I overlooked a lot of things. I made excuses and told myself, “That’s just how they are.” And maybe it was. But after my loss, I don't have the energy anymore.

And it’s not coming from anger. At least not most of the time. It’s coming from exhaustion. Emotional survival narrowed my world down to what actually matters. And what matters are the people who show up unconditionally.

Here’s the thing…grief has a way of revealing that.

It reveals the friends who disappear because they don’t know what to say and never find their way back. And sometimes it even reveals the family members who you thought would be there no matter what but somehow aren’t in the way you needed them to be.

And that realization can really hurt.

It’s not just about losing my person anymore. It’s about losing the version of certain relationships I thought I had. The belief that some of the connections were stronger than they actually were.

But the other side of that is that grief also made it incredibly clear who was there, and those people became everything to me.

And somewhere along the way, without even making a conscious decision, I started to care a lot less about holding onto the relationships that didn’t feel that way.

Because when I survived the worst thing that could happen to me, my tolerance for anything that felt forced was pretty low. I didn’t want a lot of people in my life anymore, just the people that really mattered.

I guess grief simplified that for me. It cleared out a lot of the people I really didn’t need in my life.

I remember realizing at one point that I could probably count on one hand the number of people I truly felt safe with. And on some days, I didn’t even need all five fingers.

And oddly enough…there was something comforting about that.

Gary Sturgis
Author: ‘SURVIVING GRIEF – 365 Days A Year’

06/19/2026

There’s a particular kind of pain that comes with losing someone without getting the chance to say goodbye.

It’s not just grief, it’s grief tangled with unfinished sentences, and all the things you assumed you’d have more time to say.

When someone dies suddenly, the world doesn’t just lose them, it steals your chance to prepare your heart. There’s no final conversation. No “I love you” spoken with intention. No apology made. No forgiveness asked for or offered. No last hug where you linger just a little longer because you ‘know’ it matters.

Instead, you’re left standing in the quiet aftermath, replaying moments in your head and thinking, “If only I had known…”

I think one of the hardest parts of grief is accepting that closure is often something we never actually get. We grow up believing that goodbyes are neat and meaningful, that they come with soft music and final words that tie everything together.

Here’s the thing…real life rarely works that way.

Sometimes goodbye is just…silence.

And when death comes suddenly, it can leave you carrying words that have nowhere to land.

Maybe you needed to say, “I forgive you.” Maybe you needed to say, “I’m sorry.”

Maybe you just wanted one more chance to say, “I love you,” and really mean it.

I want to tell you something, because I’ve had to learn it myself, the love you didn’t get to say out loud doesn’t disappear. It doesn’t evaporate just because the person you love is gone. It stays in you. It becomes part of how you live, how you remember, how you show up in the world.

Sometimes the words we never spoke become the way we live our lives going forward.

You might say them through the kindness and compassion you show to other people.

And I believe that the love we carry is heard in ways we can’t always see.

It’s okay to still talk to them. It’s okay to write the letter you never sent. It’s okay to say their name out loud and tell them everything you didn’t get the chance to say when they were here.

And if you’re carrying regret, try to remind yourself…that you did the best you could with what you knew at the time.

Gary Sturgis
Author: 'SURVIVING GRIEF - 365 Days A Year'

06/12/2026

Still family owned and operated for more than 40 years….because it DOES make a difference in how your family is treated