Influencer Emilie Kiser returns to social media nearly five months after losing her 3-year-old son Trigg — and through tears, she answers the hardest questions about grief, boundaries, and healing
Emilie Kiser didn’t come back to the internet with a perfectly lit photo or a big announcement. She came back as a mom in grief, sitting in front of her phone and speaking through tears because that was the truth of where she is right now. Nearly five months after the death of her 3-year-old son, Trigg, Emilie posted a video to TikTok on Oct. 13 and addressed the wave of comments and questions that followed her quiet return. She didn’t try to package her pain or turn it into something polished. She simply tried to explain what it feels like to reenter a world that kept moving when her own stopped.
In the video, Emilie acknowledges that people process loss differently, and that there’s no rulebook for when or how a grieving parent should show up online. Some viewers wondered why she was posting again. Others asked how they could support her. She took a steady breath and said what many bereaved parents have tried to put into words: grief doesn’t end, it changes shape. Returning to social media, for her, is not forgetting. It is learning to live with the ache while still honoring the child she loves forever. She made it clear that sharing pieces of her life is not a betrayal of her son’s memory; it is a way to keep breathing on the hardest days.
Emilie also talked about boundaries. The internet can be kind and it can be careless, often in the same hour. She thanked the people who have sent messages of compassion and who have resisted the urge to demand details or prescribe timelines. She also admitted that some comments hurt, not because people are cruel by nature, but because grief is tender and even well-meaning advice can land like a stone. She asked for patience as she figures out what feels comfortable, what she keeps private, and what she’s willing to share. It was a calm, vulnerable request: please remember there is a real person on the other side of the screen.
What stood out most was the way Emilie spoke about Trigg. She didn’t recount every memory, but you could hear in the pauses and the softening of her voice that he is still here for her in every room and every routine. She is still his mother. She still sees him in the small, ordinary moments that make a day feel gentle again: a sunbeam on the floor, a song on the radio, a tiny shirt folded away. Grief is often described as waves, and she hinted at that rhythm — the days she can talk for a while and the days she can’t, the posts that help her feel connected and the ones she has to delete before pressing “share.”
For other parents who are grieving, Emilie’s return is a reminder that there is no correct way to step forward. Some choose silence; some choose to speak. Some retreat; some build community in the comments. All of it is allowed. What matters is that the person who is hurting is given the dignity to decide. By addressing the conversation surrounding her comeback directly — kindly, without defensiveness — she modeled something rare online: permission to be unfinished, to admit that you’re still figuring it out.
The video also highlighted something that often gets lost in the churn of social media: you can support someone without needing to understand everything. You can show up without asking for more than they can give. Simple messages — “I’m thinking of you,” “I’m so sorry,” “We’re here when you need us” — can be a lifeline. Emilie’s courage in sharing even a few minutes of her heart makes that clear. The clip is not a grand return to content; it’s a small step toward feeling human in a space that can be overwhelming, and it invites viewers to choose gentleness over curiosity.
As the comments continue and the days turn into weeks, Emilie will decide what her presence online looks like now. Maybe it will be quiet. Maybe it will include moments of joy alongside the sorrow that never really leaves. Either way, her message on Oct. 13 is the one that lingers: grief is love that has nowhere to go, and the people who respect that love make the world a little kinder. For anyone who needed the reminder, she gave it with honesty — and with the courage it takes to be seen exactly as you are.
