01/20/2026
It’s taken me just over a week to find words that don’t feel rushed or incomplete.
Last week, we lost my father in law.
A man who is the grandfather to my children.
A man who is half the reason my husband exists in this world.
A man I’ve known for fourteen years of my life.
A man who loved desserts more than anyone else on this planet.
Not as the one who raised me, but as someone who witnessed me becoming who I am. Our relationship was different. Softer in many ways. It allowed space for conversation, for curiosity, and for me to share my perspective on life through a gentler lens than that of someone who raised me from childhood.
I loved him.
In his last days, within the fullness of our life, it became clear what truly mattered. What we once thought were priorities quietly rearranged themselves. With the support of family and friends, Kev and I were able to show up fully. Our kids showed up too. Those days gifted us the most beautiful and lasting memories, ones that now live quietly and deeply in our hearts.
Watching my husband, my mother in law, and my sisters in law care for him so deeply was profoundly impactful. To witness that level of love, devotion, and tenderness is a transformative place to stand. It is something that changes you. I am deeply grateful to have been able to share and be present for the final moments of someone’s life.
In my work, I am so familiar with waiting for birth.
Waiting for death is an entirely different experience.
The love is just as immense, if not more.
Because here, the impact is already known.
A life already lived.
A legacy already imprinted on the hearts of those who loved him.
Birth holds possibility.
Death holds meaning.
As my father in law, and in the relationship that we had, I will truly miss him. I will remember him for all the ways he impacted my life, the conversations we shared, the softness he offered and the food we ate.
Grief rearranges everything. It slows time. It allows gratitude and heartbreak to sit side by side.
Holding our family close 🤍
