Every June we plant flowers for Lily. When she was alive, planting day was less of a cherished family tradition and more of a negotiation. She hated it. Bruce finally built a flower wall just her size so she could reach every planter, hoping it would make the whole experience more appealing. It didn’t. She still complained. We still laughed. Somehow the flowers got planted anyway. Now we plant them because she’s gone. Every June I find myself standing in front of that same flower wall, pressing new life into the soil while remembering the little girl who wanted absolutely nothing to do with it. Grief rarely announces itself. It waits in ordinary places. Sometimes it waits in a song. Sometimes in the grocery store. Sometimes it’s tucked between a petunia and a marigold. This year it found me there. Not all at once. Just enough to make everything feel a little heavier. I slept later than usual. I felt restless without knowing exactly why. I found myself spending far too m...
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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