About Death and Fear...and Living
Last Friday, a friend unexpectedly passed away. She slipped in the shower, hit her head, and couldn’t call for help. Just like that. Life is fragile in a way we don’t like to think about. She leaves behind two children (10 and 7) and an ex-husband who co-parented with her beautifully and peacefully. She and I became friends because her son and Justin are playmates. She volunteered often at school. She showed up to nearly every event. And when she showed up, she was fully there. Hugging her kids. Kissing their cheeks. Laughing freely. Every interaction I had with her was warm. Kind. Gentle. She smiled easily. I never heard her speak ill of anyone. She was building her own business too — a mompreneur carving out something meaningful. My memories of her are only positive. That feels rare. My heart has been heavy. My mind is reflective. And in the quiet of grief, I’ve been thinking about what life is trying to remind me... Years ago, as a young lawyer, I handled tragic cases. I saw how one moment — one action, one accident — could permanently alter dozens of lives. I would sit at my desk analyzing facts and sometimes think: “If I close my eyes right now while typing… the moment I open them could be the moment I’m gone.” It sounds morbid. But it wasn’t despair. It was awareness. That awareness evolved into one of my life mantras: ♥️ “There is nothing to fear ANYMORE.” I first spoke those words standing in front of a mirror after losing four babies in two and a half years. Different complications. One after another. Each loss felt like it might break me — mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually. I didn’t know how a human heart could hold that much pain and still beat. And then one day, staring at myself in the mirror, the words came out of my mouth as if they were placed there by a Higher Being: ♥️ “There’s nothing to fear anymore.” The key word is "anymore." Fear exists. Fear is real. Fear visits all of us. Before that season of loss, fear ran much of my life. I stayed in a career that drained me for years because it lacked purpose. But I was afraid — afraid of the unknown, afraid of judgment, afraid of not being ready, not knowing enough, not being strong enough.