I watched my dad slowly fade from cancer. I watched his strength leave him, watched his body grow tired, and stayed with him until the very end. Nothing prepares you for that kind of goodbye. Nothing teaches you how to keep breathing when someone you love is slipping away right in front of you. Christmas just passed, and January 13 will mark one full year since he went to heaven. I am thankful he is no longer hurting and that his body is whole again, but that does not stop the ache. I miss...

People ask me what I do for a living, and I always brace myself for the reaction. I’ll smile and say real casual, "I feel and see energy around people, and I help them with grief.” And without fail, they look at me like I just told them I wrestle raccoons as a competitive sport. Like “You do WHAT?” Meanwhile, I’m standing there in my hoodie with a coffee stain on it, dry shampoo holding yesterday’s hair together, and concealer quietly doing its job under my eyes. And I’m silently...

The holidays are here again, and I know what that means. For many, it’s a time of joy and celebration with family. But for those of us who are grieving, it’s a time of deep, sharp ache. The truth is, nothing about the holidays feels like it used to. There’s a heaviness that hangs over everything—an absence that’s impossible to ignore. I get it. I’m living it. Tomorrow, Thanksgiving will be different. And so will Christmas. And next year, the year after that. Because for those of us who’ve...