Two Years Later: The Ache, The Joy, And Everything In Between

May 15, 2023….

A day thats etched into my bones.

Two years ago, my world changed forever.

I became a widow.

I became a solo parent.

I became a woman learning to carry heartbreak and hope in the same breath.

And somehow, by God’s grace….I’m still here. Still standing. Still healing.

Year One Was Survival

The first year was really a blur, now that I look back on it. I woke up most days wondering how I was still breathing, looking around trying to wake up from the dream I thought I was in. Every moment felt heavy and every room echoed his absence. I was trying my best to hold on and parent through the grief, loving my kids, while falling apart inside. I smiled when I had to, master of disguise, thats me. I cried in private, because I couldn’t let my kids know Mommy was broken, and I kept pushing forward because I had no other choice. No one will love my kids or care for my kids like I will…so my ONLY choice was to keep it moving, one foot in front of the other.

I didn’t feel strong.

I felt broken with no where to go

BUT, I kept showing up.

Year Two Was Transformation

This second year? It was different….Not easier. Not painless. But different.

I stopped trying to be who I was before. I started making space for who I was becoming. I knew that in order for me to begin my new life, fully, I had to stop trying to hide in the shadows and mask my grief.

I traveled, A LOT…mostly to run away from my thoughts, and to be honest, to run away from the children that looks like the man I lost. To run away from the people asking if I’m okay, but wouldn’t do anything if I say no. To run away from the ones telling me how strong I am, as if I ever wanted to be THIS strong.

I worked out.

I genuinely laughed again—and felt guilty for it.

I went on dates. I missed him while holding someone else’s hand.

I took solo trips with the kids and found pieces of myself in unfamiliar cities.

I wrote. I cried. I forgave myself—for surviving…because again, why me? Why did I get to live and watch our children grow and he doesn’t?

This year was a rollercoaster of feelings, pain, grief, happiness, but I didn’t just mourn.

I lived.

Grief Never Leaves, But Neither Does Love

People think grief fades. That time softens the sharpness. And in some ways it does. But grief never truly leaves.

It just shifts—from a storm that knocks you down to a quiet ache you learn to carry.

I still talk to him in the dark, in the light, especially in the shower.

I still feel him in songs, in our children’s laughter, in the way that I whisper “I’ve got them” into the night air.

His love didn’t die with him. It lives in me.

Introducing The Brave Space

For two years, I’ve carried so much silently. But I’ve also met other women like me—women grieving, growing, healing in their own way. And so I wanted a space just for us.

So today, on this anniversary of love and loss, I’m launching The Brave Space — A members-only section of this site for the women who feel everything I’ve just written.

It’s where I’ll share:

• Exclusive healing downloads

• Monthly letters + journal prompts

• Affirmations, reflections, and raw encouragement

• A sisterhood that sees you—even in your lowest moments

Because grief can feel lonely. But it doesn’t have to be.

Two years later, I still cry.

But I also laugh. I dream. I live.

This post is for him.

But it’s also for me—and for you.

If you’re walking this road, I see you. I’m not here to tell you it gets easier. I’m here to remind you that you get stronger.

And thats brave as hell.

— La 💙