Jaclyn Hoffman

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.

Thanksgiving was Alex’s favorite holiday, and celebrating it without him once felt unbearable. I remember sneaking away to cry that first year, just trying to survive the day. Six years later, I still miss those small traditions, but I’ve learned this: gratitude doesn’t erase grief. You can miss him deeply and still find tiny moments of goodness—a warm cup of coffee, a memory, a bit of sunlight.

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.