An anniversary I’m dreading…

Today I’m doing something I’ve never done before. I’m sharing on the blog something I sent my email subscribers earlier this morning.

I generally don’t do this because the email subscribers have taken that extra step to be a part of the community. They’ve opened the door just a bit further. And they deserve to get content above and beyond what I post here.

But today is a bit different.

I’m getting ready to start something I feel called to do. Called to do more than anything else I’ve done in the past year.

The below email I sent to my list will explain it in┬ámore detail. (A note to my subscribers, this won’t be a regular thing, you’ll still be the first one’s to get exclusive content, I promise—but this is something I’m really passionate about.)

Here’s the email:

It’s fast approaching the anniversary of the worst day of my life…It hasn’t gotten much easier.

In three weeks it will be a year since our family lost our precious daughter. I thought there would be some comfort felt over time. Maybe even a little sense of understanding. But the more I think about it, the less sense it makes.

If you’re getting this email then it’s likely you know the story of why I do what I do, but if you have received this email because someone you know forwarded it to you, then you can get the back story here.

Since May 1st of last year I’ve written almost 200 articles, published a new book (about golf and it’s healing nature), and started a podcast. Not to mention met some incredibly awesome people along the way. But in spite of all of those great things, when I lay down at night I still have that sinking feeling in my stomach that reminds me I lost my daughter.

I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling wondering why it had to happen to us. Not that I’d wish it on anyone, but I’m also not a martyr. Or don’t want to be one at least. If that seems selfish, I’m sorry, but I’m just being honest.

The only difference between now and one year ago is that I’m willing to accept this is my circumstance. I’m willing to take it for what it is and try and move forward. I don’t want to, but if I’ve learned nothing else in the past year, it’s that I can’t change the past. I can’t go back and do it over again, and if I could, there’s nothing within my power I can do to change the outcome.

God had his plan, and who am I to change it?

I’m sure I’m not alone in this understanding, but does that seem to make it any easier? I’m willing to bet you’ll agree with me and say, “No. It doesn’t.”

When Layla passed away I had no idea where my life would go. What would become of it. And I still don’t. But what I do know is that I’m not willing to sit by and wither away. In the nine months we were graced with her presence, Layla showed us that a smile can change the outcome of a day. A giggle can make all the bad feelings disappear. And because of that I’m on a mission.

A mission to make something of my life. To make something of her life. To share her memory with the world, and what her memory has done for my soul.

In three weeks I’m starting a new book project.

It’s going to be five books total and each book will cover a different stage of the grieving process. I’m not sure what I think I know that makes me qualified to write these books, but I don’t care. I’m writing them anyway.

But I need your help.

I want to include stories from you, my cherished readers. Because you are the driving force behind what keeps this blog going. If you didn’t read it, I’d probably still write (because writing is part of me, it’s part of who I am), but I wouldn’t feel nearly as inspired each day to do so.

If you’ve experienced the loss of someone in your life please reply to this email and share your story. If you don’t want me to include your name let me know (I’ll most likely change all the names anyway as to just ensure everyone has anonymity) and I’ll gladly ensure I use a pseudonym.

But your stories are what matter. This is a community of people who care for each other, and want others to not just survive, but THRIVE.

Also, if you know someone who is not on this email list (which means they didn’t receive this email originally) please share this with them. Forward it to them and have them reply back to me with a story. I want to know HOW you have coped with the loss of someone important in your life. HOW you have gone about living in spite of the challenges.

It’s never easy, but if we can come together and help create something amazing, then maybe we can help someone else.

If you are on this email list all you have to do is reply and your email will come straight to me. If this has been forwarded to you and you’d like to share a story then you can email me at the address below.

Much love,


P.S. If you’re not on this email list and it was forwarded to you then you can join the email list here, it’s totally free and you’ll get a bonus book about life.


That’s the email. I feel passionate about this book project and the only other thing I feel this way about is my memoir, which is something I’m not sure I’m ready to write yet.

If you want these emails, then you can join below or in the sidebar. But really, I want to know your struggles with grief and what you’ve done to survive.

Go ahead, shoot me an email, you never know what may come of it. One of the coolest people I’ve ever had the pleasure of talking too I met through a Facebook message and a call to action similar to this—his name is Bruce Van Horn, and in 2 weeks I’ll be running the Ft. Lauderdale Half-Marathon with him and then departing on a 7-day cruise where he’s speaking.

You never know what can happen when you take a small leap of faith and reach out. There will be someone to catch you.

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