November 9th marked sixteen years since that beautiful Monday morning when I kissed my husband goodbye as we each headed off into our day. Unbeknownst to me, it would be the last time. Shortly thereafter, he tragically died in a car accident.
When I replay that time in my life, it feels like watching a surreal movie I can’t quite believe I was in. And though it’s been many years, this day still arrives quietly, like a wave from a distant shore.
This is the day everything changed.
It shattered my world, brought me to my knees, and broke me open — and eventually, it taught me how to really live.
There are many lessons that have unfolded through the years. Here are a few of them:
1. Life is unspeakably fragile.
We wake each morning assuming there will be another — but nothing is promised.
That awareness, once terrifying, became sacred.
It taught me to savor the moments — the sunrises, the stars, the conversations, the experiences — to savor the gift of being alive.
And to remember that we don’t have time to f*ck around.
It made me say yes.
2. Love is what remains.
When everything else is stripped away, love is the only thing left standing.
Possessions — all of the “things” we value so much — become meaningless.
What remains are memories, feelings, and experiences. The positive marks we have left on people’s hearts.
Love is the eternal thread that connects us.
Love is why we are here.
3. Grief is a teacher.
Grief is not something to “get over,” but something we learn to live with. It becomes part of your tapestry.
The experience of grief is unique to each person, and there are no rules or “should be’s.”
It has been one of my greatest teachers. It softened me, strengthened me, humbled me, and transformed me.
For the gifts it has given — and continues to give — I am grateful.
4. Courage is born in the aftermath.
In the months that followed, I realized I had a choice — to collapse, or to create.
His death gave birth to who I have become — to my business, and to my devotion to helping others live more fully.
Courage, I’ve learned, isn’t the absence of fear — it’s being afraid and doing it anyway.
It’s knowing that when we love, we’re signing up for loss, one way or another, because everything and everyone is a temporary gift.
5. Beauty and pain can coexist.
The sunrise and the sorrow, the laughter and the longing, the dark and the light — they all belong.
Life isn’t about avoiding pain, but about embracing the full, vivid spectrum of the human experience, of being alive.
I remember wishing there was a “fast-forward” button — a way to skip the agony and see if joy and lightness would ever return.
And here’s the grace I didn’t know was waiting for me then:
Life gave me love again.
I am now blessed to have a partner who meets me in joy, depth, and gratitude for all that has shaped us both.
His presence reminds me that the heart’s capacity to love never ends — it only grows wider.
So today, I honor the lessons death has taught me:
How fleeting and sacred life is…
And how beautiful it still can be.
May we all live with that kind of awareness — tender, courageous, awake.
With love,
Lauren
