Finding My Way Back: Grief, Healing, and Moving Forward

How does one begin to express themselves after experiencing the deepest and most difficult loss of their life? I suppose I’ll start with the name of the grief I’ve been navigating, so you have a foundation to understand the rest of this post.

Complicated Grief

“In complicated grief, painful emotions are so long-lasting and severe that you have trouble recovering from the loss and resuming your own life.”

Let’s get into it.

The last time I wrote a blog post, I had just learned that my ex-husband was missing. He hadn’t been seen since the beginning of the month. The moment I found out, I reached out to his twin sister, my former sister-in-law, desperate to understand what was happening.

Despite the fact that our marriage had ended over six years earlier, he had been a significant part of my life for over a decade. He helped shape the person I am today. There was no question in my heart—I had to do something.

I got to work. I created a missing person’s poster, spread the word across social media, followed every lead, searched familiar places, and put up flyers wherever I could. I worked tirelessly alongside his loved ones, hoping for the best, fearing the worst.

And then, nearly a month later, I received the call I had been dreading. The one I had prayed would never come.

He was found. And it wasn’t good news.

The Weight of Loss

I’ve known grief before, deep and painful losses that have left permanent marks on my soul. But this was different. This was the man I had loved for over a decade. My first husband. And what made it even harder to carry was knowing he had chosen to leave this world on his own terms.

Suicide leaves behind an ocean of unanswerable questions. Why? Why did he do this? Did he know how deeply he was loved? Those thoughts circled endlessly in my mind, weighing me down, making even the simplest of tasks feel insurmountable.

For months, I felt stuck—exhausted, unmotivated, and emotionally raw. My emotions felt heavier than usual, impossible to control. I moved through the world, but I wasn’t truly living.

Then, his celebration of life came.

The room was overflowing—standing room only, and even that was scarce. One by one, people shared stories about his kindness, his humor, his unwavering presence in their lives. He was deeply loved, a fact that was evident in the sheer number of people who came to honor him.

And yet, he was gone.

Finding My Way Back

Now, here I am. It’s February 7, 2025, and I’m finally finding the motivation to write again.

The first spark of inspiration didn’t come in the form of words, but in my hands touching the earth again. I found myself drawn outside, preparing the farm for winter, digging up dahlia tubers, breathing in the crisp air. The tasks felt familiar, grounding.

I haven’t finished dividing my tubers yet, but I’m getting there. I’ve also started planning my seed-starting schedule for the 2025 season and setting intentions to improve my marketing and social media presence. It’s all progress.

Perfection isn’t the goal.

My goal is to continue practicing self-care, offering myself grace, noticing the small, beautiful moments, and celebrating every little victory along the way.

What Comes Next

Will I become one of the top flower farmers on social media? Probably not immediately, but that’s okay—because that’s not my biggest goal. Social media is a tool, but my true focus is on healing my little slice of earth and connecting with my community.

Will I build a large, loyal customer base overnight? Again, probably not. But I’m here, planting seeds—both in the soil and in my life—knowing they will bloom in time.

I’ve already taken my first steps forward. Last weekend, I started my first round of seeds, filling four 72-cell trays. My calendar is now marked with seed-starting dates through the rest of winter, small reminders that life continues to grow.

I’m also preparing to wake up my dahlia tubers, a process that always amazes me. From a single tuber, I can take up to 10 cuttings, multiplying its life exponentially. If only healing worked the same way. If only we could take one moment of growth and expand it tenfold.

But for now, I’ll focus on what I can do.

Next Steps

✅ Make a plan for consistent blogging
✅ Plan and post YouTube videos
✅ Post on TikTok and Instagram with intention
✅ Create a marketing strategy to connect with florists and wedding planners
✅ Share more about my CSA program
✅ Finish dividing my dahlia tubers and post my inventory for sale
✅ Take orders for dahlia cuttings
✅ Find events and opportunities to network

Being a flower farmer isn’t for the faint of heart. But neither is being human.

Through the darkest days, we are reminded to hold onto the good, the beautiful, and the moments that make life worth living. And today, I’m holding onto the promise of growth—both in my fields and in my heart.

If you’re navigating grief, know this: healing doesn’t happen all at once. It comes in tiny, quiet steps. In planting seeds, in feeling the sun on your face, in reconnecting with the things that make you feel alive.

Thank you for being here. For reading. For holding space for me.

I’m finding my way back. One seed, one step, one day at a time. 🌿💛