02/20/2026
Look at that light shining and that blue sky!  I am leaving my Networking group where I get to talk about my business every week 🌞
This week I shared about where the seed was planted for Lighting The Way🌀.  The timing was in alignment for February 2026.
The story goes…30 years ago in February, my dad entered hospice. The next few months I experienced for the first time real authenticity. I learned that everyone grieves differently. I learned how to guide a person through calming the body down and the mind down.
We felt grief and love, told stories and experienced the spiritual nature of death. It was the most real situation for his last few months.
After he died, I got pretty sick for a while. Turns out I was grieving and my body was expressing it. I’m pretty sure I cried every day for two years. This was unexpected.
I didn’t have grief support then. I didn’t know it could benefit me. Now I know differently. I wish that in our world we had been taught about grief and about productive ways for walking through it. And I wish I had been taught about the things we do so we don’t have to feel our feelings.
And even more than that I wish I had known how I could have processed my own emotions in my own time so that I could become complete with the pain. 
I know better now and because of my dad, I became certified as a Grief Recovery Specialist. I get the privilege of working with clients through their pain. And I know that the client always has profound experiences working through their loss. 
This post was written to honor and to memorialize the last 30 years.
If you have a story to share, I would love to hear it. You could leave a comment or send a message.
In honor of my dad, I don’t keep it a secret that feeling grief is not shameful. Grief doesn’t just go away, it buries in the body until we’re ready to process it. And it affects us ongoing until we do. 
And I don’t shy away from making the offer to support the person who is grieving. I honor the much younger woman whose dad died 30 years ago. And I honor you, the person who is still carrying unresolved grief. I matter, you matter. Grief matters.
Lana
