Before I talk about grief,
I have to tell you about Emma.

Emma was larger than life. We met on our first day of university. Although we did not connect instantly, it wasn't long before we were best friends. Part of Emma's magic was seeing the things that you could not see in yourself and holding them long enough until you could see them too. And her laugh: it could be heard for miles. She radiated joy and brought so much happiness into the lives of the people she touched.

We had the best time.

But at the heart of my story is the fact that, when I was 24 years old, Emma and I were in a terrible car accident. I survived but Emma did not. As anyone who has been through a traumatic loss knows, I was not the same person after Emma died.

For years, I immersed myself in anything I could find to try to make my grief go away. Therapy, medication, alcohol, work. I masked the devastation I was feeling inside because I felt so ashamed with how much I was still suffering. To an outsider, I seemed fine. I was getting on with my life and in many ways I was. I got married and had two beautiful children. I felt many moments of happiness, but my emotions were still very volatile and, on a deep level, I knew I was not well.

I felt like I was living a double life.

In 2019, a series of serendipitous connections led me to Taryn Watts, the founder of the Mind Rebel Academy. Through coaching, I was able to tap into parts of my grief in different ways than in therapy. It was the start of a completely different healing process for me. I allowed myself to feel all the emotions I had repressed for more than a decade. Feelings of anger, guilt, sadness that had been ruminating for years. I started to re-educating myself on grief and mental health. Learning and, perhaps more importantly correcting things that had been so harmful. For example, I learned that I was not aspiring to "get over" my grief, but rather learning how to "carry it" (Megan Devine). Learning that I would carry Emma with me forever brought me so much relief because I could never imagine a world where she wasn't a part of me.

Then in 2021, my beloved Aunt Tracy died. The chaos and confusion that followed her passing—a result of her lack of end-of-life planning—opened my eyes to another crucial aspect of death and loss. Watching my family struggle with unclear wishes and undefined arrangements pushed me to become passionate about end-of-life planning. I realized how much easier it is to grieve when practical matters are taken care of, when wishes are known, when nothing is left unsaid.

In the beginning of 2024, my dear friend Susan died shortly after being diagnosed with cancer. Her courage taught me that when faced with fear, love is the only path forward. She reminded me how short this life is. Susan’s death became the final catalyst that pushed me to fully embrace my purpose.

It was a hard road, but one that has led me back to Emma—and to my purpose.

Emma is with me more than ever now. I see glimpses of her in my daughters, in their expressions, in their laugh and in the things they say. I miss her immensely, but I am learning how to find meaning in what has happened to us.

Coaching, for me, is a way to reach others who feel as lost as I once did in their grief. To help them navigate the rough waters with gentleness and compassion. To grieve in the company of someone who has been there, while also helping them prepare for the practical aspects that so often get overlooked in discussions about death and loss.