Two years

Today's post is a bit of a departure from what I've been sharing recently. I'm taking a step back into a more reflective, vlog-style narrative to talk about something deeply personal. As I write this, it's a quiet Sunday, but by the time you read it, we'll be on the eve of a very poignant anniversary for me – the day before we lost my beautiful daughter, Libby.

This time of year is always a challenge, and I wanted to open up about the rollercoaster of emotions the last few weeks have brought. My hope is that by sharing my journey, anyone else walking this path of grief will feel a little less alone. Grief is a unique and deeply personal experience, but if my words can offer comfort to even one person, then sharing them is worth it.

The Ebbs and Flows of Grief

As this difficult anniversary approaches, the weight of grief has been ever-present. Last year, I braced myself for the pain of the first anniversary, only to find it wasn't as intense as I feared. This year, marking two years without Libby, the reality is settling in more deeply, and it's been tough.

Grief is such a complex companion. Some days it feels like Libby has been gone for an eternity, while other times it's as if she'll walk back into my life at any moment. The truth is, grief doesn't get easier; it just changes. It becomes a part of your daily life, a constant undercurrent to every moment.

I've learned a lot about grief, including the "ball in a box" theory, which beautifully illustrates how our relationship with grief evolves over time. Imagine your grief is a ball inside a box with a pain button. In the beginning, the ball is so large it constantly hits the button, but over time, it shrinks. The pain becomes less frequent, though never entirely gone. This theory has helped me understand my own process, recognizing that while the intensity of the pain may lessen, the love and memories remain forever.

Recent Struggles and Reflections

The past few weeks have been particularly hard, with tragic reminders of loss and the fragility of life. A devastating fire claimed the lives of close family friends, echoing the pain of my own loss. And just as I was grappling with this news, Libby's memorial site was accidentally destroyed. The heartache of seeing those tangible memories shattered was overwhelming. Yet, through this, I've found a renewed determination to honor her memory in meaningful ways.

As the anniversary looms, our family plans to celebrate Libby in our own special way, including a visit to her favorite restaurant, Olive Garden, and creating a new tradition that respects the environment while keeping her spirit alive. We're also rebuilding her memorial site, a place of solace for not just us but for all who loved her. These acts of remembrance are small but significant ways we keep her memory alive.

Turning Pain into Purpose

In the midst of navigating my grief, I've also found myself on a path of unexpected growth. This blog, my upcoming book, and various speaking engagements are all endeavors born from my desire to make sense of this loss and to help others. It's a bittersweet realization that these opportunities are linked to my greatest loss. Yet, I know Libby would be proud of the steps I'm taking to live a life that honors her memory.

Grief has taught me that even in our darkest moments, we can find light. It has shown me the strength I never knew I had and has led me to connect with others in ways I never anticipated. My journey is far from over, but I'm learning to embrace the complexity of grief, allowing it to shape me without defining me.

To Anyone Else Walking This Path

If you're reading this and you're on your own journey through grief, please know you're not alone. The road is long and often feels impossible, but together, we can find our way through the darkness. Let's keep moving forward, carrying the love and memories of those we've lost as our guiding light.

Thank you for allowing me to share my heart with you today. Until next time, take care of yourselves and hold your loved ones close.

To watch the video version of this post, click HERE:


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The Gentle Power of Movement in Grieving