Holding close what matters most.

If you ask me who I am, my answer will always begin with this: I’m a mom.

Motherhood is my greatest joy and the work that has shaped me more deeply than any other. I’m the proud mom of three boys—two who run through this world and one who soars beyond it. While losing a child will always be the most life-changing part of my story, I choose not to be defined by the loss of my son, but by the love that remains because of him.

Life has taught me that it isn’t always fair. It can be heartbreaking, unpredictable, and far more fragile than we’d like to believe. I wish no parent ever had to outlive a child, but I know that some of us do. What I’ve also learned is that while we can’t always choose what happens to us, we can choose how we live and how we love. That choice is one of life’s greatest gifts.

Grief didn’t just change me—it clarified me. It stripped away what didn’t matter and drew me closer to what always did: family, connection, kindness, and the beauty hidden inside ordinary days. I’ve come to believe that a meaningful life isn’t built on extraordinary moments alone, but on countless little ones—Sunday dinners around the table, handwritten letters, shared laughter, familiar rituals, and quiet moments that become the memories we carry forever.

I’m a wife, a writer, a grief companion, and a lifelong letter writer, carrying on a tradition passed down by my grandfather. Some of my most treasured memories live on the pages of handwritten letters, reminding me that words have the power to comfort, connect, and endure.

Above all, I am rooted in what matters most: love. I believe what we choose to carry shapes who we become. So I keep it in stories, in letters, and in the little things—the ordinary moments where love continues, memories linger, and life quietly reveals its greatest blessings.