My journey with grief began in the earliest years of my life. At just three years old, my family was forever changed by a tragic car accident that claimed the lives of my 18-year-old uncle and 6-month-old cousin. Though too young to fully grasp the tragedy, I could not miss the profound impact this loss had on my loved ones. My mother lost her brother and niece; my grandmother, her youngest child and grandchild. In their eyes, I saw a world colored a shade darker by grief, a shift in what mattered most and how we view and cherish our relationships.
As I grew, grief continued to touch my life. The passing of great-grandparents, including one who lived to be 101, left deep impressions not just on me, but on those around me. Her life, touching so many others, taught me how the echo of a person's existence continues even after they're gone.
During my formative years, my experiences with loss deepened. My mother worked in an adult foster care home, a place I visited often while being homeschooled. There, I formed bonds with many residents, caring for them and absorbing their life stories. I remember vividly, at around 9 or 10, the first time I faced the imminent death of a resident, a friend. Despite attempts to shield me from this harsh reality, my mother insisted I be allowed to say goodbye. It was a profound moment, one where I stood face-to-face with the delicate transition from life to death, honoring the journey of a soul.
Adding to this, my husband's experience as a soldier in the Iraqi war brought another dimension to my understanding of loss. He lost many comrades, and one a close friend of ours. This friend had recently lost a younger brother 6 months before his death in Iraq. This loss had a profound impact on many people. For over a decade, I corresponded monthly with his mother, offering words of comfort and remembrance. Her enduring grief reminds me that some losses resonate deeply throughout a lifetime.
Over the years, I’ve experienced the loss of uncles, cousins, grandparents, great-grandparents, pets, and many friends. But two losses particularly shaped my understanding of grief. The first was the loss of my father at the young age of 54, after a year-and-a-half-long battle for his life. Being by his side, holding his hand as he took his last breath, was both a privilege and a profound sorrow. I allowed myself to grieve deeply, taking six months before resuming life at a semblance of normalcy. His passing, at twice my age at the time, taught me to cherish every moment with my children, to be present, grateful, and to simply 'be.' Live Love Be Happy, Life is to Short for Anything Else.
Another pivotal moment was witnessing the grief of a friend who lost her second full-term baby, just months after I had my own child. The stark contrast between our experiences was heart-wrenching. Her pain was a cruel, unfathomable loss, and it was her story that sparked the inspiration for 'Sending Love.' She expressed how people tend to forget the magnitude of such a loss over time. I vowed then to help others feel remembered, to know they are not alone in their grief.
Tragically, not long after that loss, my best friend chose to end her own life. Having spoken to her that very night, her loss was a shock, a unique and profound grief I had to navigate while caring for my four young children. It was a pain unlike any I had experienced, one that demanded much personal reflection and strength.
From a young age, I dreamt of sending 'happy mail' to brighten others' days. This inclination, paired with my deep connection to supporting others in grief, has brought me to where I am today.
My husband of 20 years, our 5 children and I would be honored to send a card to someone you care about, to honor their journey and offer a moment of kindness in the solitary path of grieving; ensuring they feel remembered and cared for.
