There is no timeline.
Grief doesn't graduate. You don't get behind. We move at the pace your body and your heart will allow.
My Mission
I came to this work
the long way around.
Grief did not ask me to be strong. It asked me to stay — for myself, and eventually for other people standing where I once stood.
Why this work
Loving and losing
two of my children.
I lost my daughter to cancer in 2016. Years before, I lost my son to the same rare condition. There is no rehearsal for this. There is no version of you that arrives ready.
In the long, strange after, I found that what helped most wasn't advice or tidy frameworks. It was someone who could sit with me without flinching — someone who knew the weather of this country and didn't try to hurry me out of it.
That's the room I try to make for others now.
What I believe
A few quiet
commitments.
Every loss counts here.
Children, parents, partners, siblings, friends, beloved animals, futures that never came. If it matters to you, it matters here.
You don't have to perform.
Tears are welcome. Silence is welcome. Numbness is welcome. You don't owe me a coherent story to be helped.
The longer version
The full story lives
on the companion site.
The chapter-by-chapter telling — the years of treatment, the loving, the losing, and the slow rebuilding — has its own home. If you'd like to read it, the door is open.
