How Grief Became the Throughline

It’s been a while since I last wrote. The pause wasn’t planned, but it was necessary. Grief has been reshaping my life in ways I didn’t fully understand at the time, and I needed space to get my footing again.

During that time, I didn’t disappear — I was still living. I was figuring out how to exist inside a life that feels so much different than it once did. I was learning how to move through it without forcing myself to have answers.

Looking back, I can see that something important was slowly coming together. This story is about the moment it started making sense.

Noticing What Keeps Showing Up

I had been seeing hawks for months. The encounters were small, but noticeable, and birds have been a way I notice guidance in my life.

Last week, the kids and I got unusually close to one while we were outside. I live in town, and birds don’t typically let you get very close — especially hawks — so it stood out. That was when I decided it was time to stop brushing it off and try to understand what these moments meant for me.

I looked it up in my oracle book, which describes hawks as a symbol of sharp focus — of pursuit, determination, and committing to a goal. It talks about a successful hunt, about finding something you may have thought was lost or out of reach, and choosing a new direction with intention.

It immediately made me think about my vision, Project Starlight, which I’ve been holding for quite some time. But at that point, I still wasn’t sure how the hawk fit into the bigger picture. I felt like I was circling the meaning without quite landing on it yet — unsure whether I was being nudged to take action, or simply reminded that what I was working toward was real, and already mine. I didn’t have any answers yet, so I stopped trying to figure it out and let it be.

A few days later, I was sitting on the couch enjoying my coffee before the kids woke up, when something outside the window caught my eye.

Even inside the comfort of my own home, these hawks were finding me.

It felt bigger than it had before, but I still didn’t understand what it meant. Some time passed, and the morning moved on.

What Finally Came Into Focus

The kids were up by then, and I was cleaning up with a video playing in the background while I put dishes away. I wasn’t really paying attention when a tarot reader I like came on.

It caught my attention because it mirrored something I’d already been sitting with. I’d had this ongoing sense that something was changing — that I was moving toward a new phase where things might start to take shape more visibly. It wasn’t about wanting more or chasing anything. It just felt like confirmation of a shift I already knew was happening.

As I kept listening, she talked about releasing something that had been held onto for a long time — about putting something into the world that was ready to move beyond being private. My mind immediately went to this blog.

Then she said something about how the outer world begins to reflect the inner one, and that’s when I really paused. It was the same thing I’d been left with after my 12 Magical Nights ritual — that this year, my responsibility was to make my internal and external worlds match.

She then said there was a creative project here, and that it was time to take action through disciplined, consistent effort.

Action….hawks?

I’d already been thinking about how I wanted to keep sharing my experiences — how to continue what I started here, paused, and then picked back up on social media. I’d been trying to figure out how to move forward in a way that made sense for me, but I just had so many ideas that I didn’t know which way to go. Writing a book had even crossed my mind.

And the exact moment that I thought the word book in my head, the tarot reader said it out loud.

Woah. She had my full attention now.

I stopped what I was doing and walked over to my phone.

On her video was the number 333, along with the words books, projects, content. You are about to be seen. Take action to get unstuck. Then she said this could be a download to create a literal book. You know what this is.

Yes. I did know what this was.

And that’s when it clicked.

The hawk wasn’t vague anymore. It wasn’t something to interpret later. It was focus. Commitment. Choosing a direction instead of circling it. All of the moments I’d been piecing together suddenly made sense at once. I found myself fully in it — thinking through my content, my voice, a book, how all of this could actually come together. This wasn’t abstract anymore. It was real.

Chills ran through my entire body — the kind I remembered from a conversation weeks earlier about writing a book.

Standing there, it became clear what I was meant to do. I was going to write a book. And the blog and TikTok weren’t separate things — they were part of the same thread. A way to keep sharing as I go, to give shape to what I’m working through, and to let the story unfold in real time.

I recognized the guidance for what it was, and I didn’t set it aside. I took a step toward the life I’ve been trying to build, and I started writing.

When Excitement Turned Heavy

Hours passed after that. By the time the afternoon had settled, I’d stepped away from what I was working on and slipped back into the rhythm of the weekend.

I got a notification on my phone that the land I’d been watching for Starlight had gone down in price. My first reaction was excitement — and then, almost immediately, my chest tightened. Panic and fear rushed in so fast it caught me off guard.

I didn’t understand why I was reacting that way. Nothing bad had happened. If anything, this was supposed to be good news. But the feeling was heavy and confusing, like too much had come in all at once.

I’ve learned to recognize these moments in myself now. When my body reacts that strongly, it’s a sign I need to pause and take care of myself before trying to make sense of anything.

So I went to my safe space — the shower.

Once my nervous system settled enough, I was able to sit with myself and understand what was underneath it. A few things became clear as I stood there. I was already elevated from everything that had happened earlier in the day — on high alert, with a lot of energy moving through me. And underneath all of that was the simplest realization: holy shit — this is real.

I’ve been waiting for a long time, living in a state of anticipation, and I couldn’t believe this might actually be happening. Almost immediately, another fear followed — that someone else would buy the land.

It was too much all at once. My nervous system didn’t know what to do with it. There was that familiar rush of urgency — I need to move right now — followed by the fear that something meant for me could be taken away.

But that reaction wasn’t truth — it was conditioning. Old stories about scarcity, urgency, and things being taken if I didn’t act fast enough. Beliefs I’ve spent a long time unlearning. I’ve worked too hard to let that mindset run the show anymore.

That isn’t how I live now. What’s meant for me will find me. The universe hasn’t led me in the wrong direction, and I anchor myself in that.

A Shared Language

After that, I texted my realtor. I’d shared my plans with her before, and there was already a sense of connection between us - she unfortunately lost her brother last year.

Before long, we were talking about our loved ones instead. I shared how signs have brought me comfort, about my dad and the blue jays that have followed me since he passed. She told me her brother’s sign is a hummingbird.

The conversation reminded me that what I’m building isn’t just about land or ideas — it’s about holding space for people in their grief, the way we did for each other in that moment. That’s the heart of what I’m working toward.

One More Confirmation

Later that evening, my husband and I left for a date we had planned. As we drove, I started telling him about my day — the hawk, the reading, everything that had been unfolding — and played the tarot video for him.

I hadn’t noticed it earlier. There was no reason to — it hadn’t meant anything yet. But halfway through the video, she suddenly stopped and said, “Oh my gosh, there’s a hummingbird outside.”

My eyes widened. A hummingbird. Just hours after talking about them with the realtor — her brother’s sign. Another moment layered into a day that already felt charged.

This wasn’t a coincidence. I could feel that clearly. So I sat with it and asked myself what I was being shown — how all of this fit together.

My mind kept returning to the same place: grief. I thought about my first blog post, my dad’s celebration of life, the reason Starlight ever existed in my mind at all, the reason I share anything online. Every thread led back to the same source.

That’s when it became obvious. This book has to be about grief. About how losing my dad reshaped the way I move through the world, and how learning to live with that loss changed everything. I’m writing it as a companion — for anyone walking through grief and wondering how to keep going without having to do it alone.

The Day’s Final Gift

By the end of the day, I felt a quiet excitement settle in — a sense of movement after a long stretch of waiting. I felt ready for whatever comes next, trusting that my life is unfolding into something larger than I once imagined.

Later, we stopped at an antique mall. I wasn’t searching for anything in particular, but I came across a small bumblebee pin — a good luck charm. Beatrice, one of my spirit guides, shows up for me as a bumblebee, so it immediately caught my attention. Tucked behind it was a card that read:

“According to the law of physics,
The bumblebee cannot fly.
It's wings are too large for its body.
That's the reason why.
Not knowing that,
The bee flies away.
So this little gift
is a reminder to say
Good luck and success
in whatever you do
Just believe in yourself
and your dreams will come true.”

It felt like the right way to end a monumental day. Something simple to carry with me as I keep moving forward — one step at a time.

All my love,