Welcome to Life After Lil

  Introduction This post is the first in a three-part series I’m sharing to coincide with the anniversary of my daughter Lily’s death. While traveling through Europe, I experienced many joyful moments — shopping in Paris, sipping coffee in a Parisian café, riding a canal boat in Amsterdam, and exploring charming cities like Bruges and Ghent. Yet, some places left a lasting weight on my heart. Normandy was one of them. Remembering the Sons of Normandy I arrived at Normandy beaches on a rainy day. Cold and wet, the gray sky pressed down as the rain pummelled the memorials. Water flooded the bunkers, and I imagined the boys who had been here — shivering, afraid, carrying guns they barely understood, unsure if they would survive. Inside the museum, letters from parents to their sons captured ordinary life: a sister’s wedding, what they were having for dinner, small jokes, and snapshots of boys being boys — laughing, messy-haired, alive. These WWII letters from soldiers revealed the s...

We landed in Brussels to crisp fall air and the kind of light that makes everything feel golden. The Grand Place shimmered at dusk, its buildings aglow with twinkling lights. We stopped for French fries, perfectly salted and hot, then couldn’t resist a Liège waffle—warm, caramelized sugar crisping at the edges—a small, sweet comfort in hand as we wandered the cobblestone streets. From there, we traveled south to Luxembourg, a European Vermont filled with hills, color, and quiet beauty. The trees were turning shades of amber and rust, and for a moment, it felt as if we had stepped into a storybook. Our next stops, Bruges and Ghent, carried us deeper into the past—medieval cities of canals, spires, and stories whispered through centuries. Every turn revealed another postcard-perfect view: a reflection in the water, a clock tower framed by clouds, a street musician playing something that made you stop and listen. We then headed to Paris, where we filled our days with tours of Giverny and ...

The Week That Spoke Softly This week reminded me again that life is always speaking to us—if we’re paying attention. It’s been a full week: my husband had a heart procedure, I’m preparing for a trip to Europe, my daughter’s moving to Colorado, and our aging parents need more from us than ever. The weight of responsibility feels constant, and the days blur together in a kind of low-level stress. And then, one night, my dad visited me in a dream. A Quiet Gift I was just as tense in sleep as I’ve been in waking life, but when he appeared—calm and reassuring—everything shifted. He didn’t say much, just handed me a doll with dark hair to hold. As I hugged it, the stress melted away. A simple, quiet gift of peace. Thank you, Dad. I miss how you used to handle things—how you held steady when life was anything but. But I think you still do, just from somewhere I can’t see. Coffee, Conversation, and Connection Later this week, I reconnected with an old friend. We hadn’t seen each other in years...

🌊 Coffee with the Waves This week the hubs and I finally went camping — a trip we’d planned for months and looked forward to, even though the timing couldn’t have been worse. Between home projects, doctor appointments, and caring for his mom (whose needs are growing by the day), life has been… a lot. Add in a few tricky family dynamics, and we were both running on fumes. So when we finally hit the road, it felt like one long exhale. The weather was perfect — blue skies, golden sunsets, and ocean breezes that carried the sound of waves right to our campsite. The clam chowder was creamy, the marshmallows were charred and black (just how I like them), and for a few days, the world felt beautifully still. One of the biggest highlights? Meeting up with our son. We’d just dropped him off at grad school a couple of weeks ago, and the transition has had its ups and downs — for both of us. Seeing him again, laughing and joking like always, filled my heart in a way I didn’t realize I needed...