Today marks 5 months since the love of my life, my best friend and the father of my daughter passed away.

June was incredibly hard because it was both Father’s Day and Cam’s 43rd birthday and 1st heavenly birthday.

Lots of things have changed since February 10, 2026, a day that I will never forget because life before that day was one way and within seconds of realizing that Cam was no longer with us, everything after that moment was different. In that moment, I didn’t think I was going to make it, so I am very grateful to God that I am still here.

As I’ve shared before I’ve been through grief. I’ve had great aunties, favorite cousins, and even my father transition but I’ve never experienced the death of a romantic partner… someone who I had planned to spend the rest of my life with. Someone whose life was so intertwined with mine that literally everything - waking up in the morning… opening my cell phone to text or call… looking into our daughter’s eyes… it all reminds me of him.

One of the things that I hear a lot is, “You look good” or “You don’t look like what you’ve been through.” I am grateful that the anguish that is inside of me is not detectable on the outside of me. Amelia and I went to a few counseling sessions and by the third session the lady asked me “what would you like to get out of today’s session?” I was annoyed… speechless… angry… because I didn’t know how to answer the question. What I really wanted to was to return to the life that I had before Cam passed away but that’s not possible. I knew that and I knew she knew that. That was our last session.

I’ve been doing a lot of journal writing because at least my journals hold my unfiltered thoughts and feelings. I always feel a little lighter after I write and it has been a practice that I’ve returned to when life gets hard since I was 12 years old.

People often ask me is “how are you?” My response most of the time is “I’m here.” “I’m doing alright.” Those feelings are like the entryway to what lies beneath. My mom, Amelia and I returned to church on Easter Sunday and my spirit decided that we needed to return to church weekly. This is the first time in a long time that pain seeped that deep into my spirit. I also feel like the spiritual realm is where we return to so in so many ways I feel closer to Cam. This grief experience is very much a spiritual experience.

As a mother I am committed to doing everything that I can to be a stabilizing and steady force for my daughter. I came across a quote that says, “the more a mother enjoys motherhood, the more a child enjoys their childhood.” This motherhood thing has really put me in touch with Little Donnie in ways that I did not expect. I navigated a lot of trauma as a child and I find myself trying to give Amelia tools and resources to help her navigate this incredibly traumatic event of losing a parent. I don’t want her childhood experience to be one where she has to manage my emotions as her mother. I also don’t want to center myself and my emotions in her life. I don’t want to be so distant or cold that we aren’t normalizing all of the emotions because that would also be a huge disservice to her. She needs to see me experience all of the emotions including this grief and she needs to watch me work through them, but I don’t want this grief to be the only thing that she identifies with.

I sometimes joke that I’m on like my 5th life because I’ve lived in different cities… I’ve loved hard and committed myself to different men (I’ve had two marriages, two divorces and Cam was my third adult romantic partner)… I lived the life of a full-time high school teacher… I’ve started businesses… At one point I was going to pursue global citizenship and move around from place to place… Life has not been a singular experience for me. I’ve also been really fortunate especially as an adult that I’ve achieved and accomplished many of the things that I set out to do. This is the first time in my adult life that I feel like something happened to me that I did not choose.

How do you create a life when you feel like the life you had planned was literally taken from you?
How do you allow yourself to settle in to joy… to trust that joy without being paranoid or suspicious that the joy won’t last?
How do you teach your child to plan and to move with confidence and assurances when anything can happen and your plans can become obsolete due to no fault of your own?

These days I am finding joy in my vinyl collection…

I’m finding joy in scheduling friend time, family time and new experiences…

I am finding joy when my pen is moving on paper…

The joy is in no way equal to the pain, but I find that joy is a great distraction. I spend a lot of time revisiting the last few years (Cam and I reunited in April of 2019 and lasted 7 years)… I spend a lot of time in gratitude for all that I learned and experienced with Cam - so many firsts… so much joy… so much laughter…

The thing that no one prepares you for is just how lonely this grief journey is… I’m grateful for my loved ones who really help fortify me by checking on me, by being there to help care for Millie and Muffin when needed, but I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to Cam’s side of the bed being empty… I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to going to meetings at Millie’s school alone… I don’t know if I’ll ever make peace with not being able to access the future that my heart desired with him.

If you’ve gotten this far, thank you for reading and for giving my experience a place to be seen, heard and valued.

How do you create a life when you feel like the life you had planned was literally taken from you?

How do you allow yourself to settle in to joy… to trust that joy without being paranoid or suspicious that the joy won’t last?

How do you teach your child to plan and to move with confidence and assurances when anything can happen and your plans can become obsolete due to no fault of your own?