How many times can life shift beneath your feet, forcing you to start over? How many times can you rebuild, rediscover yourself, and find the strength to move forward?

This book is my story—my childhood, my journey through grief, loss, and motherhood. I didn’t just face adversity; I was shaped by it. I endured abuse, loss, and heartbreak over and over again, and each time, I rose stronger. My childhood was filled with pain and loss, but somehow, it prepared me. It taught me endurance, strength, and, perhaps most painfully, forgiveness. Some people hurt us because they are hurting themselves. Some hurt us because they don’t know any other way to be seen, to feel powerful. Others hurt us because they are simply lost. While none of this excuses the pain they cause, understanding it made me realize that holding onto anger only kept me shackled to that pain. Forgiveness was never about saying that what happened was okay. It was about setting myself free. In doing so, I became the mother my children needed. Strong enough to hold them through their own grief, wise enough to teach them that forgiveness does not mean forgetting, but rather choosing not to let the past define us.

I remember the moment everything changed. Standing at the gas station with my husband as he patiently showed me how to pump gas, a task so small, so simple—but in that moment, I knew. I knew that soon, he wouldn’t be here to do these things for me. I would be a widow. A single parent. Death, grief, and loss were coming for me again, just as they always had. But this time, the weight of it was unbearable. This wasn’t just my loss. This was my children’s loss. This was ten years of slowly losing him, of watching the love of my life fade away, of knowing that every "goodbye" carried the weight of finality. My story starts before the beginning because grief doesn’t start with loss. It starts with love. And love, no matter how much pain it carries, is always worth it.