Finding Purpose After the Storm: My Journey Through Loss and Hope

There was a time when my life felt complete — filled with love, lot of laughter, and the simple joy of sharing each day with my soul mate and our children. I was living a beautiful life, the kind you treasure in quiet moments. My husband and I built a life rooted in love, and together we raised our amazing sons and daughter.

Then life changed — in the way it does sometimes, suddenly and without warning.

My daughter was diagnosed with Polyglandular Autoimmune Syndrome Type II, a rare and complex condition that soon revealed itself to be just the beginning of a much longer, harder road. As time passed, we learned she also had autoimmune encephalitis, a condition that affects the brain and brings with it a world of unknowns. Watching your child suffer and almost die from something you can’t fix — that’s a pain no parent is ever ready for.

But we adapted. We fought. We held each other tighter. And somehow, we found strength in the love that surrounded us.

Then, another blow. A devastating one.

A couple years later, my husband and I were riding his motorcycle together — something we always loved doing. In a split second, everything changed. A tow truck made a sudden left turn right into us. That accident took my left leg — and it took the love of my life.

I survived. He did not.

There are no words strong enough to describe the pain of waking up and realizing your world will never be the same. My husband — my rock, my partner, my everything — was gone. And I was left with a body forever changed, a heart shattered, and children who had just lost their father.

But here’s the thing: he saved my life that day. And I’ve made it my mission since then to make sure that his sacrifice means something.

I want to live a life that honors his love, a life that makes him and our children proud. I don’t know exactly what that looks like yet, but I know it starts with sharing my story, with being real about the pain, the resilience, and the messy process of healing.

Some days are still hard. Some nights are still long and harder. But I’ve learned that strength isn’t always loud. Sometimes, it’s simply choosing to get up. To keep going. To believe that something beautiful can still grow, even from the deepest grief.

If you’re reading this and you’ve faced loss, or if life has knocked you down in ways you never saw coming — please know this: You are not alone. You’re still here. And while we can’t rewrite the past, we can shape what comes next.

For my husband. For my children. And for myself — I will keep going.

I will build something beautiful out of the broken pieces...through the tears.

And I will not let love’s light fade.