Nebraskan started selling ‘grief cards’ after a string of crushing tragedies. They’re resonating with grievers.

Angie Hanson started the morning the same as every other work day. She took her 1-year-old son, Garret, to day care, gave him a kiss and a hug, told him she’d see him later that day, then headed to work.

Hours later came a phone call delivering every parent’s worst nightmare. Garret wouldn’t wake up from his nap. 

Garret’s death on June 27, 2006, was the first of a trio of tragedies that would upend life for Hanson and her family. Her son died, then her husband, then her brother. The small burgeoning family in Waterloo was down to Angie and her then-7-year-old daughter, Gracie.

“It was the darkest moment of my life, because our whole family had lost people,” she recalled.

The immense, and at times crippling, grief required years of processing. 

More than a decade later, it motivated her to start a small business selling what she calls “grief cards.” Unlike traditional greeting cards, they aim to deliver honest and often humorous messages for life’s difficult days. 

Since founding Butterflies and Halos in 2021, Hanson has built a following, with many expressing appreciation for the honesty, snark and thoughtfulness of Hanson’s messages. The business has expanded beyond cards and beyond grief, adding items for more joyous occasions, such as birthdays.

For people like Suzanne Robinson of Omaha, Butterflies and Halos has helped with the healing process. Still struggling with the death of her father, Ken Petersen, a decade ago, a friend gifted Robinson one of Hanson’s candles earlier this year. 

“I was touched that I had a friend who understood the significance of the loss of my father to me and was thoughtful enough to give me a gift that would express that to me in a beautiful, meaningful way,” Robinson said.

It’s a perfect example of what Hanson hopes to do with her business: provide a flicker of light during moments of darkness — moments she’s all too familiar with.

***

Angie Hanson — then Angie Rittenhouse — had no clue about the heart condition that ultimately killed Garret. She and husband Jack Rittenhouse would learn of it only after Garret had been rushed to the Nebraska Medical Center in Omaha and pronounced dead. 

He had a kink in his right coronary artery, a condition that can trigger sudden death during periods of extreme activity or rest, she said. 

The couple was determined not to let Garret become just a memory. Using money they received as memorials for their son, Angie and Jack bought 13 automated external defibrillators (AEDs), which they donated to police and volunteer fire departments in Waterloo, Valley and Elkhorn, Hanson said.

“That would not have saved Garret, but we were just trying to think of something with the heart,” she said. “The police are the first ones who are there in emergencies.”

First responders also held a special place in the family. Jack had been a volunteer firefighter with Waterloo Fire and Rescue since 1996. He played a key role in convincing the fire district to build a new fire house. 

“He was a huge part of the community,” Angie said. “He was instrumental in getting the land secured.”

Before Garret’s sudden death, Jack and Angie’s life had largely played out like they envisioned. The high school sweethearts married, bought a house near their hometown and started a family — first Gracie, then Garret.

Jack had been diagnosed with melanoma after finding a spot on an arm when he was 21. But he caught it early and appeared to be fine afterward.

Then in 2007, a year after burying their son, Jack started having pain and vision issues in an eye. It turned out to be cancer. It spread to his liver, spleen and brain. Sixteen months later, he was dead.

The loss extended beyond the family. Jack had spent more than a decade traveling for his job as a salesman for Hewlett-Packard. When he died, the funeral home posed a new technological offering to his family: livestreaming the service on the internet. 

Nearly 100 people watched the service online, joining the roughly 600 who attended in person, the Omaha World-Herald reported at the time. 

Months later, Waterloo Fire and Rescue dedicated the firehouse to Jack’s memory. A plaque is located near its entrance.

Jack’s cancer battle wasn’t the family’s first. Angie’s younger brother, Seth Embrey, lived in a small house on Angie and Jack’s acreage between Waterloo and Valley. In 2004, he had a brain tumor removed. It was the start of a five-year battle that Seth wouldn’t win. 

Two months after Jack’s passing, Embrey died. He was 30 years old.

At 36, Angie had lost three of the closest people in her life.

“Who was I to lean on? My parents had lost a son, a son-in-law and a grandson. Jack’s parents were the same. My siblings, they had lost the same type of people. So that was a big hurdle. My biggest blessing was that I did have a good community of friends.”

***

It took years for Angie to stop feeling lost. Initially, she thought it would be helpful for her and Gracie to travel — to try to get away from the pain. It didn’t work. Reality was always there to greet them.

“When you’re away, you could get away from it, but when you come back, every time, the house is still empty,” Angie said. “There’s no one to come home to.”

She did find some relief in therapy and in journaling, which allowed her to express her thoughts and feelings. She would break out in tears, then journal until the tears stopped.

“I didn’t see it then, but looking back at it now, I can see it was very dark in the beginning, and then … you can see the change in the tone of my voice and my thoughts. And then a year goes by and you could see the hope,” she said.

Part of that hope came in the form of Chance Hanson, the brother of one of Angie’s best friends. They started dating about a year after Jack’s death and married two years later. Angie feels fortunate that before Jack died, the two had the chance to talk about her life after his passing. As he was in hospice, Jack gave his blessing for Angie to love again. 

“I think that is just a huge gift,” she said. “He wanted me to find love again. He wanted Gracie to have a father figure.”

After their marriage, the family moved to Valley and life started to feel normal, though there would be more loss. 

In 2018, Jack’s sister, Brooke Martinez, died from alcoholism-related issues just a few days shy of her 43rd birthday. Gary and Suzanne Rittenhouse — who provided tremendous support to Angie and Gracie after Jack’s death — had lost their second child in less than a decade.

Then in 2023, Gary Rittenhouse died at the age of 76 from complications related to a form of ALS. (Correction: This story stated the incorrect year of Gary Rittenhouse’s death. It has been corrected.)

“They were a huge support to Gracie and I, and then they supported Chance 100%,” Hanson said of the Rittenhouses. “They were just the people that we needed as we moved forward.”

***

Sixteen years after her grief began with losing Garret, Angie Hanson found herself looking for the “perfect card” for an ill friend. It proved challenging.

“I was tired of cards that say nothing, that mean nothing, and I just feel like there’s so much more,” she said. 

One night, while not being able to sleep, her mind popped with grieving card thoughts. What would she want to tell a friend who had just lost a husband?

“I would not give her a greeting card that said ‘With deepest sympathy’ or ‘I’m so sorry for your loss,’ because I don’t talk to my best friend that way,” Hanson said. “I’m going to tell her that this sucks.”

The first card she designed leaned heavily on sarcasm: “I don’t know what to say. Let’s go eat one of those damn casseroles.”

“Honestly, as a griever and a lost person, you just want to cuss,” she said. “It’s OK to have snark.”

The ideas flowed like a waterfall. She asked friends their thoughts and created several more grieving cards. The cards hatched into a business: Butterflies and Halos.

Butterflies and Halos quickly found a market. 

One of those early cards simply said “F*@+ Cancer.” Another one offered simple wisdom: “There are no rules — grief and happiness can exist together.” A newer card says “Sending hugs, snacks, and the number of a therapist I actually like.”

The business expanded — notebooks, stickers, candles and more. Products also expanded beyond grief to include birthdays, holidays and graduations. Hanson now offers her services as a “grief coach.”

Hanson says the feedback she has received from appreciative customers has been fulfilling. 

People like Robinson, the Omaha woman who was gifted a Butterflies and Halos candle. She uses the candle to celebrate special events related to her father. 

“Every time I look at it, I smile, remembering my dad,” she said. “My dad and mom were married on July 4th, so I burned the candle on that day, listened to Frank Sinatra songs that they danced to and remembered the good times we shared as a family.”