Dear Me- A Letter to myself

Dear Me, 

the One Carrying All the Grief,

I see you. I feel every ache in your chest, every tear you’ve cried when no one was watching, every scream you’ve swallowed just to make it through another hour. You are not invisible to me—I know the depth of your love, your heartbreak, and how much you're hurting without Joshua, Natilee and Kaylee.

But I want you to hear something important from me—from us.

You are not alone.

We are still here. We’ve survived storms before, even the kind that rip everything up by the roots. And though this grief feels endless, like it might swallow us whole, I promise you: healing is not only possible, it is ours to claim.

It’s okay to rest, to fall apart, to scream if you have to. But let’s also start walking, step by step, toward something better—for the girls-- and for us. They still need us to be strong. To fight smart. To be the mama they can come back to. Whole. Steady. Ready.

So here’s what I want us to try incorporating into some type of routine and normalcy:

Let’s start talking again—to someone safe. A therapist. A friend. Or just write it out. No filter. 

Let’s nourish our body. Eat something warm, even if it’s just soup. Drink water. Breathe deep.

Let’s get fresh air. Even for five minutes. Let the sun remind us we’re still alive.

Let’s lean into our faith, our purpose, and our fight. This is not the end of our story.

Let’s consider asking for help—real help. If we need inpatient care, that’s not weakness. That’s wisdom. That’s strength.

Our daughters deserve the best version of us, and deep down, we do too. You don’t have to carry this weight alone anymore. I’m here. We’re in this together. And I love you—every fractured, tired, beautiful part of you.

Let’s begin again. For them. For us. For the woman we are still becoming.

With all the love and strength we’ve still got left,

Me

The Love That Won’t Let Go

I cannot stop this heart of mine,

Though bruised and broken, it still shines.

For even in the darkest pain,

It whispers softly, calls your name.

The wounds you left, they cut so deep,

Yet still, my love, you haunt my sleep.

For every tear that fell like rain,

There’s laughter that still soothes the pain.

The fire burned, the storm would rage,

We tore each other, page by page.

But in between the shattered nights,

Were moments bathed in golden light.

Your hands, though harsh, have also healed,

Your words, though sharp, have warmth revealed.

And when we soared, the world stood still—

A love so fierce, a force, a thrill.

I know the scars, I bear them well,

Yet in your arms, I used to dwell.

And though the past still holds its weight,

The love remains—it won’t abate.

But maybe time has paved the way,

For change to bloom, for hearts to stay.

I know there’s hope still left for us,

Yet fear still lingers, doubt still tugs.

I don’t want history to repeat,

To taste the bitter with the sweet.

But people change, I’ve seen it too,

And love can make the old brand new.

So tell me now, is this our time?

To heal, to trust, to realign?

Can love rebuild what once was lost,

And stand unshaken through the cost?

Because I know what’s in my heart,

I’ve known it from the very start.

But now it’s time for me to see—

If us means just as much to you as it does to me.

A Girl Still Dreams

I cradle a love the world mustn’t see,

Tucked in the hush of what might never be.

He walks with another, hand in her hand,

While I trace forever in shifting sand.

By day I smile, I laugh, I play—

But night steals the armor I wear in the day.

His voice, like a whisper carved into stone,

Feels like home… though I’m not his own.

I’ve danced in the silence between the lines,

Kissed him in shadows where no light shines.

Years have passed like a soft-spoken hymn,

Each moment with him—my heart on a whim.

I know what is right, I know what is true,

Yet love doesn’t always ask permission to bloom.

It bloomed like spring through winter’s deceit,

Even knowing it wouldn’t be mine to keep.

I’ve been the secret, the pause in his song,

Still, I’ve held on—perhaps too long.

Not out of weakness, not for the thrill,

But because something in me believes he will…

Maybe one day—when stars realign,

He’ll look at me not as borrowed, but mine.

'Til then I wait in quiet esteem,

Faithful to love…

And the girl who still dreams.