Guess who’s back… back again (in my best Slim Shady voice).

Exactly 387 days ago, I wrote what I thought would be my final blog post.

Today, I went back and read it… not once, but several times. And what struck me the most wasn’t just the words, it was how different I feel now compared to the person who wrote them.

In one year, life stretched me, humbled me, broke me open, and slowly helped me rebuild. The growth I’ve experienced has taken me on a ride I never expected. After James passed, I felt like my world kept shrinking, like my circle was getting smaller, my comfort zones tighter, and my life quieter. But this past year? It was a huge eye opener. My world didn’t shrink… it shifted. And in that shift, I found parts of myself I didn’t know still existed.

The reason I stopped blogging in the first place was because I was living in a fantasy. A life that wasn’t my reality. I was trying to outrun grief, trying to write my way into a version of life that didn’t hurt so much. But grief doesn’t work like that. It doesn’t end. It evolves. It sneaks into random Tuesdays. It shows up in celebrations. It sits beside you constantly.

Every stressful moment, every hard decision, every time I feel overwhelmed, I still catch myself thinking, “If James were here, I wouldn’t be in this situation.” And maybe that’s true. But what I also realize now is… if he were here, I might not have experienced the growth this past year forced me into. I wouldn’t have learned the lessons I learned. I wouldn’t have been pushed to crave self-love the way I have. I wouldn’t have discovered the strength that only comes from standing on your own when you never planned to.

And then… life gave us something beautiful.  We expanded our home by two tiny feet… but those two feet changed everything. My grandson was born, Elias James. Watching my oldest daughter become a mother has been one of the greatest blessings of my life. The day she gave birth… what I witnessed was nothing short of a miracle. Those who know, know. Strength, fear, love, pain, courage, all wrapped into one moment. It’s surreal to think that the human I once carried in my belly has now carried a life of her own. Time moves in the most beautiful and heartbreaking ways. Because alongside the joy, there’s also that quiet ache. The emptiness of knowing her dad isn’t here to experience this with her. To hold his grandson. To beam with pride. To crack jokes. To be exactly who he always was, our anchor.

I don’t know why I felt so compelled to write today, but I’m glad I did. This space used to be my therapy. My outlet. My truth. And somewhere along the way, I let it go. I thought my life had changed so drastically that this part of me no longer fit. But maybe it never left… maybe it was just dormant, waiting for me to come back to myself.

I had a plethora of plans this past year, structured, organized and thought out. But in true Bambi fashion… everything changed, because that’s what growth does. It changes your direction. It softens you. It teaches you to lean into the unknown.

June is around the corner, and I know I’m stepping into a totally different version of myself. Not someone without grief. Not someone without scars. But someone stronger. Someone more open. Someone finally choosing herself and open to feel again. Those who know what June is for me, thank you.. Thank you because that means you are close enough to know..

For the first time in a long time, I’m not just surviving life… I’m curious about it again.

I’m looking forward to my new chapter.

To exploring what life still has in store for me.

To loving deeper.

To healing louder.

To becoming someone I’m proud of.

Guess who’s back…. This time, for real.