Transforming Pain into Purpose

Thoughts of sharing my story have been circling my mind for quite some time, but I have only gotten serious about it in the last few days.

Somebody very close to me lost somebody very close to them. I had been right where they were just weeks before. Standing next to them in their pain; still heavy with my own.

I felt the overwhelming urge to wrap them in love and offer my support as they'd done for me. I couldn't offer it in the same way, but I could share what I've learned. The things that have kept me going through my darkest moments. Maybe it would keep them going too.

I did want to start this platform so that I could be of service to others, that was always my intent, but seeing my friends heartache ignited that desire into action.

And so after months of having no clear direction, I started working toward something that finally felt right, what I feel to be my purpose.

My background made it easy to set up the technical side of things, but I was feeling very overwhelmed with how to open this incredibly intimate & sacred dialogue with others. There’s so much I want to share—so many profound and meaningful experiences that have shaped me. Conveying just how deeply they've impacted my life felt like a big job.

So I started small.

I grabbed my handwritten love letter to my dad.

As I typed the words I had shared at his celebration of life, I realized that my message then was the same as my motivation now. It was a full circle moment for me.

Yes, of course I wrote that. That's always been the plan.

And so, here I am, sharing my story so you don't have to navigate yours alone.

I've got a lot more to say, but for now, these words are enough. I hope they bring you comfort.

All my love,

A love letter to my dad

I am no stranger to grief. Death has been a common occurrence in my life, but even so, I was not prepared for the magnitude of this pain. This deep, primal burn I feel to my core cannot even begin to be called heartache. It reaches the innermost part of my soul.

The void in my chest, the what-could-have-beens, the battle with reality, with myself, the list goes on.

Unlike the losses of my past, I cannot run or hide or try to forget. I don't want to forget. He is a part of me and he is worth remembering.

Those close to me know that I have had a really difficult year, apart from everything with my dad. Challenge after challenge, obstacle after obstacle, it felt like I couldn't catch a break.

I was forced to take a long, hard look at the person I was and the person I wanted to be. I'm not sharing this with you out of self-pity, though I am feeling very, very sorry for myself. I'm sharing in hope that it might bring some comfort in a time when all feels lost.

It's so easy to get caught up in our struggles that we miss the lessons they bring.

Though uncomfortable and at times unbearable, I learned to release what no longer serves me. Panic, overwhelm, control, fear, and replace them with love, trust, and authenticity and connection.

It changed the way I lived my life. I was really angry for a long time, questioning what I'd done to deserve the things that were happening to me, but now as I face my greatest fear, I can't help but be grateful to have had those lessons, to have been given the tools that I need so I won't be consumed by the darkness.

I was taught to recognize my own strength, the strength in others. I saw the strength that he used to fight every single day. My dad is the toughest guy I know. I am so proud of him. I want to be that fearless.

I learned to lead with love and gratitude that it's okay to ask for help when the weight of the world is too much to carry. Look what it's shown me, all of you. Support is surrounding my family more than I ever anticipated. Kind words, donations, prayers, presence. You have lifted us up and taken care of us the way that he would have wanted, and I want to sincerely thank you, each of you, from the bottom of my heart.

I have the clarity to see the love that he gave, the love he received, the bonds that have deepened in the community he built. It's beautiful.

This shift in perspective and understanding of the world allowed me to redefine my idea of connection. It's the feisty blue jay that visits the feeder, the warmth of the sun, the songs that remind me of him, and the twinkle of the stars.

Signs are already around us, even if they don't appear in the ways we'd expect. My daughter's stubbornness, my son's reflection, the sight of a disco ball, or the subtle scent of beer on the breath.

I see him everywhere I go, and I choose to see that as a blessing, not a burden.

Dad, I know that I don't need to ask you to watch over us. You've always been my fiercest protector.

I know that you are always with me, but please don't stop talking to me. I promise I'm listening.

This isn't what I pictured for us, but I know I'll be okay. You'll make sure of that.

When I'm missing the warmth of your hand on my face, and it feels like I can't go on, I'll look for your light.

I will look for your light until I can join you in the stars.

I love you.