I am coming up on a year of weekly posts chronicling the ups and downs of grief. I began writing in my second year because I needed somewhere to put it down. By then, most everyone had moved on. People had stopped saying her name. Stopped bringing her up. And I was still living in the echo. I needed a place where her name was still spoken. Where the weight of that second year could exist without making anyone uncomfortable. The first year I had a therapist. The second year this blog was therapy of what was left of me. Now, what I have left are memories. Pictures. A hairbrush with a few strands still caught in it. Clothes still folded, waiting to become memory blankets. Things I can still hold. Proof that it was real. This blog has been my container. And lately, I can feel something shifting — not away from grief, but within it. What began as diary entries from the trenches is becoming something else. When foundations are blown apart, it takes years ju...
I’m Elizabeth Candy—a mother, writer, and seeker. Life After Lil was born from the ache of losing my daughter, Lily, in 2022. I write to honor her light and create space for grief, healing, and truth. My work has been featured in The Keepthings, Motherwell and Tiny Buddha.
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