Welcome to Life After Lil

​ Holidays are rarely just joyful. They’re layered—holding love and loss, connection and exhaustion, all at once. This reflection comes from a week that was deeply beautiful and quietly overwhelming, a reminder that grief doesn’t disappear during celebrations—it simply shares the space. When Grief and Joy Arrive Together Christmas held grief and joy, just as I expected it would. Our twins gave my husband and me an ornament—of the two of us and our daughter—and in that moment, I was hit with a chestful of everything at once: love and grief, sweetness and bitterness, colliding in the same breath. It lodged in my throat, a small and beautiful ache. I swallowed it down, but tears sprang to my eyes, and my voice caught as I told them how much I loved it. My son came over and hugged me hard, asking if I was okay. I was. And I wasn’t. I smiled and nodded, as we do. That was the energy of the day. The Quiet Grief of Goodbyes The next day—Boxing Day—we took my youngest da...

Intro: The holiday season has a way of magnifying everything—joy, love, chaos, and loss. For anyone navigating grief while trying to stay present for the magic of the moment, this time of year can feel like holding fire in one hand and water in the other. This week, I found myself somewhere in the middle—carving out peace where I could, remembering what was, and making space for what still is. This Week This week was gentler than most. After a month away, I’ve settled back into home—reconnecting with friends, finding energy for the little things: Christmas shopping, baking, decorating the tree. I waited for my son to come home before we put it up. Each night, my husband and I watched the worst Christmas movies we could find. There’s something oddly comforting in them. Maybe because underneath the laughter, we’re both feeling what’s missing—especially at this time of year. Holidays have a way of highlighting the spaces where someone used to be. Lil loved the holiday m...

I’ve been quiet lately, not because I didn’t have anything to say—but because I didn’t know how to say any of it. The last two weeks have been heavy. Emotional. Confusing. Draining. And full of moments that left me raw and unsure of where to begin. Letting Go, Again For the past month, I’ve been in Colorado helping my daughter get settled into her new nursing job and life in a brand new state. She’s young, brave, and doing hard things—but like most transitions, it hasn’t been easy. Watching her struggle with growing pains, uncertainty, and self-doubt has been so difficult for me as a mother. I’ve caught myself holding on tighter than I probably should. But I’m also someone who’s already lost a daughter. That loss changes you—it rewires the way you love, the way you protect, and the way you brace for heartbreak, even when there isn’t any. So yes, I hovered. I reassured. I stayed a little longer than I planned. On my last morning there, we went out to breakfast—just ...