What is pruning if not the act of making room for something beautiful? The removal of unwanted parts so new growth can happen? In this season of life, the physicality of this task is something I can trust.

Between 1948 and 1951, my papa and granny fell in love, married, had a son, and called the island home for several years. But this story is about the second time our lives found convergence with the Royal Family.

He saved me from the choking grip of pain. He gave me a reason to smile, laugh, play, breathe, and remember what living was like.

I admittedly have spent most of our time at home telling my children “it isn’t a big deal,” “we’ll do that another time,” or “this is not worth being upset about.” Except for one thing: it is all worth being upset about to them. My kids are grieving.

I lost a part of myself the day I lost my dad. But I’m learning that everything happens for a reason. Maybe I’ll never know why my dad was taken from us so soon, but I can believe that I’m made to be stronger and a better version of myself because of it.

Losing a loved one has to be one of the hardest things we can experience as humans. But it’s also something we know will happen, no matter what, at some point in our lives. Dealing with that grief and permanence and inevitability can be overwhelming.