She Still Rises

Lately, I’ve been reflecting on how far I’ve come. I feel so grateful for the life I have—the growth, the resilience, the love that still surrounds me. But there are still moments when I deeply miss the life I lost. Sometimes it hits me out of nowhere.

Like yesterday—I was sitting in a nail salon, and across from me was a pregnant woman. I overheard it was her third child, and my immediate thought was, *that was stolen from me.* Blake and I had two children together, and we had always gone back and forth on the idea of a third. That possibility disappeared when he died.

I saw the ring on her finger, and it reminded me—I don’t get to wear my ring anymore. It’s these little things that strike suddenly, because they were ripped away without warning. It wasn’t just Blake that was taken from me, but everything that came with him. The possibility of a third child, the reality of still being married, and the way our family unit as a whole has changed. All those pieces of my old life vanished with him.

Even with the life I’m living now, and moments where I feel hopeful, I often find myself longing for the life I used to have. It’s a strange balance—to be thankful for the present while mourning the past.

I know I’ve been quiet lately. I’ve been navigating a lot of change, and I’m hopeful for the growth I’ve experienced. But no matter how far I’ve come, grief is always there, waiting—waiting to remind me of all that was and all that is no longer.

8/5. We would have been celebrating 13 years of marriage today. And I wish you could be here for it. But I’ll still celebrate our day, our love…Forever 🤍

Hi! It’s me! ☝🏼

I know things have been a little quiet over here. And yes, life has been pretty hectic (but typically that’s a widowed mom’s life).

But I’ve also just been feeling a little “all cried out.” I mean I still randomly cry (because that’s grief), but I’m tired of my grief. (Or maybe tired of widowhood. Or BOTH).

Grief is exhausting, quite honestly. And some days (or weeks) you just get tired of talking about it, tired of living it, tired of it being your story.

Sometimes you just need a break from it. You need it to get a little quiet because it’s been so LOUD for so long.

But it’s still there, just tucked away. Just a little softer.

Just hidden for the moment.

Comment or share if this speaks to you 🤍