Look for the Light

When Collin was diagnosed with cancer, our world was turned upside down. For 559 days, he fought with everything he had, and I fought right alone side him. Those were some of the darkest days of my life, but in the midst of the uncertainty and pain, I clung to a simple mantra: “Look for the light.”

At first, it was about survival; finding something, anything, to keep me going. Some days, the light was easy to spot: kindness from others, his resilient smile, or a victory in his treatment. Other days, I had to dig deep to find it, but it was always there, even if it was just the hope of a better moment ahead.

When I lost him, I thought the light might disappear entirely. The grief that came after he died brought a darkness I hadn’t imagined. But I realized that “look for the light” wasn’t just something I had lived by during his battle; it was something I had to carry with me for the rest of my life.

 The light hasn’t gone away; but it’s different now. Now, it means finding warmth and gratitude in the memories of our 23 years together. It means leaning on the love of family and friends, and sometimes, it’s as simple as watching the sunrise or hearing a favorite song.

Someone recently told me that my book A Million Miracles and the One That Never Came was the most beautiful love story they’ve ever read. Hearing that meant the world to me because, at its core, that’s exactly what this book is—a love story. It’s about the love Collin and I shared, the love that carried us through his battle with cancer, and the love that still remains, even after his passing.

It’s a story of miracles, light, and resilience, and how love can sustain us through even the darkest moments. This mantra, “look for the light,” became such a powerful part of my journey that I wove it throughout the book. It’s a reminder for anyone navigating grief, seeking healing, wondering how to keep going when life feels overwhelming, or just want to have more joy!

If you’re in a dark season, I want to encourage you to look for the light. It doesn’t have to be big or grand; sometimes, it’s as small as a kind word or a quiet moment of peace. But even the smallest glimmer can help propel you forward.

Grief is hard, and healing is not linear. But the light is there, waiting to remind you that there’s still hope, still beauty, and still reasons to keep going.

If you’re ready to explore what it means to find light in the darkness, I invite you to read A Million Miracles and the One That Never Came. It’s not just my story; it’s a reminder that miracles, big and small, can be found—even in the midst of pain.

Remember, the light is there. Keep looking for it.✨

Click here to grab your copy of my book.

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