Soulful Journeys

Content Warning:  This post touches on the raw edges of early grief. The kind where living feels optional. If you're in that space, know this: I've been there. And I'm still here. And if you feel as though you’re in imminent danger, please call 911 or locate the nearest emergency room. Dear Sister, So I need to tell you something I said out loud once. Something that might make you uncomfortable. But then again, maybe if you're early in this, it'll make you feel less alone bec

After Alex died, signs became tiny lifelines: dimes, repeating numbers, cardinals landing right where I needed them. The day I saw “55” on Ian’s license plate, I knew Alex was still guiding me, reminding me that love doesn’t disappear; it just finds new ways to reach us. This is how I learned to trust those signs and how you can too.

Just six weeks after Alex died, I stood at a fall festival held in his honor. Cold air, firepits, and a community showing up with love. I gave a short speech and posted the video once. Then, the video began reposting itself—3 to 5 times a day—for a week. The last repost? On Alex’s birthday. His first in Heaven. I wasn’t looking for a sign, but I got one. It felt like a wink from him. A gift. And I choose to believe love still finds a way.

A therapist and widow shares her journey through grief, healing, and rediscovering life. An invitation to a space for widowed women who are ready to rediscover life even with grief still in the room.