Grief Support

9 Week Courses in Grief

Butterfly Release Ceremonies


Public Speakers

(grief, grieving, sudden death, long-term illness, overdoes, surviving loss and much more)

Candle Lighting Ceremonies

Rock Ceremonies

In Memory Walks

Community and Private Events

Celebration of Life Events


  • Some Studies at PCCCA
  • Professorial Christian Coaching and Counseling Academy
  • Public Speaking – TCF – The compassionate friends of Pasco County
  • Event planning – TCF Pasco
Child loss is a loss like no other. Often misunderstood by many. If you love a bereaved parent or know someone who does, remember that even his or her “good” days are harder than you could ever imagine. Compassion and love, not advice, are what’s needed. If you’d like an inside look into why the loss of a child is a grief that lasts a lifetime, here is what I’ve learned in my many years of trekking through the unimaginable.

Love never dies.

There will never be a day, hour, minute or second, I stop loving my daughter Sarah. Just as parents of living children unconditionally love their children always and forever, so do bereaved parents.

Bereaved parents share an unspeakable bond.

a knowing of the heart connects us, even if we’ve never met before. No matter our circumstances, who we are, or how different we are, there is no greater bond than the connection between parents who understand the agony of enduring the death of a child. It’s a pain we suffer for a lifetime, only those who have walked the path of child loss understand the depth of both the pain and the love we carry.

I will grieve for a lifetime.

Period. The end. There is no “moving on,” or “getting over it.” There is no bow, no fix, no solution to my heartache. There is no end to the ways I will grieve and for how long I will grieve. There is no glue for my broken heart, no going back in time. For as long as I breathe, I will grieve and ache and love my daughter Sarah with all my heart. This is why grief lasts forever. The ripple effect lasts forever. The bleeding never stops.

It’s a club I can never leave but is full of the most shining souls I’ve ever known.

This crappy club called child loss is a club I never wanted to join, and one I can never leave, yet is filled with some of the best people I’ve ever known! these shining souls are the most beautiful, compassionate, grounded, loving, movers, shakers and healers I have ever had the honor of knowing. They are life-changers, game-changers, relentless survivors, and thrivers. Warrior moms and dads who redefine the word brave. Every day loss parents move mountains in honor of their children. They start movements, change laws, spearhead crusades. Why? In the hope that even just one parent could be spared from joining the club.

The empty chair/room/space never becomes less empty.

Empty chair, empty room, empty space in every family picture. Empty, vacant, forever gone. There is and will always be a missing space in our lives, No matter how you look at it, empty is still empty. Missing is still missing. The problem is nothing can fill it. Minute after minute, hour after hour, day after day, month after month, year after heartbreaking year the empty space remains. No matter how much time has passed

No matter how long it’s been, holidays never become easier without my daughter.

Never, ever. Have you ever wondered why every holiday season is like torture for a bereaved parent? It’s because they really, truly are horrific. Consider supporting and loving some bereaved parents this holiday season. It will be the best gift you could ever give them.

Because I know deep sorrow, I also know unspeakable joy.

Though I will grieve the death of my daughter Sarah forever and then some, it does not mean my life is lacking happiness and joy. Quite the contrary, in fact. It is not either/or, it’s both/and. Grief and joy can and do coexist. My life is richer now. I live from a deeper place. I love deeper still. Because I grieve, I also know a joy like no other. The joy I experience now is far deeper and more intense than the joy I experienced before my loss.

Because I’ve clawed my way from the depths of unimaginable pain, suffering, and sorrow, again and again– when the joy comes, however, and whenever it does– it is a joy that reaches every bone in my body. I feel all of it, deeply. I embrace and thank every blessing. My life now is more rich and vibrant and full, not in spite of my loss, but because of it. In grief, there are gifts, sometimes many. These gifts don’t in any way make it all “worth” it, but I am grateful beyond words for each and every gift that comes my way. I bow my head to each one and say thank you, thank you, thank you. Because there is nothing– and I mean absolutely nothing– I take for granted. Living life in this way gives me greater joy than I’ve ever known possible.

I have my daughter Sarah to thank for that. Being her mom is one of the best gifts I’ve ever been given. Even death can’t take that away