I'm a certified grief coach, a wife, a mother, a grand-mama, an animal lover, and someone who knows firsthand how profoundly grief can change a life.

My journey into grief coaching began with the unimaginable loss of my youngest daughter, Marya Angelique, who died suddenly in October 2024 at just 19 years old. Marya was my only biological daughter, and she was everything a mother could dream of: talented, creative, beautiful, compassionate, and overflowing with love. She had a style entirely her own, a heart big enough to embrace anyone who needed a friend, and an extraordinary ability to see beauty in things others might overlook. Whether it was a person, an animal, or the tiniest little creature, Marya believed everyone and everything deserved kindness. She made the world a little brighter simply by being in it. Losing her forever changed mine.

In the darkest days following her death, I stumbled across a grief coach on TikTok, of all places! What began as a chance encounter became something I desperately needed. I discovered support, understanding, a community of people who didn't expect me to be okay, and most importantly, HOPE. Not the kind of hope that promised my pain would disappear or that I would somehow get over losing my daughter, but the kind that helped me believe I could learn to live alongside my grief. That experience changed the direction of my life. I knew I wanted to offer others the same compassion, understanding, and hope that had been offered to me. I couldn't change what had happened to Marya, but I could take the enormous love I still carried for her and find a way to share it with the world. That decision led me to become a grief coach and eventually create Intermission Grief.

I've been happily married for more than 24 years, and together my husband and I have raised a beautiful blended family of four children, including Marya. I'm also the very proud "grand-mama" (because grandma just didn't sound quite fancy enough!) to some pretty incredible little girls. Our home is filled with love, laughter, memories, and four absolute brats... I mean cats! We've built a life together here in Tennessee, where I've lived for more than 40 years. We still laugh, celebrate, tease one another, and find moments of happiness, although those moments often carry the unmistakable ache of someone who should still be here sharing them with us.

Family has always been the center of my world. I worked hard to create a home filled with love, security, and togetherness. Somewhere along the way, I think I convinced myself that if I loved my family enough, protected them enough, and gave them a happy home, we would somehow be safe from the unimaginable. I knew terrible things happened to other families, but I never truly believed something like this could happen to mine. Then came the phone call that changed absolutely everything. In an instant, the life I knew became one I barely recognized. I couldn't imagine a future that didn't include my daughter, and I certainly couldn't imagine ever feeling genuine happiness again. Grief wasn't simply something I was experiencing. It seemed to swallow every part of who I had been.

Although losing Marya has been the most devastating experience of my life, it hasn't been my only encounter with grief. I've also said goodbye to grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, my father-in-law, friends, and beloved pets. I've experienced the heartbreak of relationships changing, dreams unraveling, and life taking turns I never expected. Each loss has taught me something different, but perhaps the greatest lesson has been that grief doesn't discriminate. It doesn't care how old we are, how prepared we think we might be, how wonderful our families are, or how much love we have in our lives. There are no guarantees, and sometimes life is heartbreakingly unfair.

This is why I created Intermission Grief.

I believe that profound loss can feel like an unexpected intermission in the story of our lives. The curtain falls without warning, the world around us continues moving, and we're left sitting in the darkness, trying to understand what just happened. The life we knew has changed, and we may have no idea what comes next. Everyone else may be expecting the show to go on, but we aren't ready for the curtain to rise again.

I believe we deserve permission to stay in that intermission for as long as we need. To feel what we feel, to ask difficult questions, to be angry, confused, heartbroken, or completely numb. To laugh without guilt, cry without apology, and remember without being told it's time to move on. An intermission isn't about forgetting the first act or pretending it never happened. It's about giving ourselves the time, space, and compassion to discover what life might look like when we're ready for the curtain to rise again. The love, the memories, and the people we've lost remain part of our story. They don't disappear simply because the next act begins.

As a grief coach, my role isn't to fix you, rush you, or tell you how you should grieve. There is no magic formula, no universal timeline, and certainly no requirement to find something positive in what has happened. My role is to walk alongside you, offer a safe and compassionate space to explore what you're experiencing, and help you discover ways to carry your grief that feel manageable and meaningful to you. Together, we can work toward understanding your emotions, navigating difficult moments, maintaining meaningful connections, and rediscovering pieces of yourself that may feel lost.

I believe grief is more than the pain of losing someone or something we love. It's also a reflection of the depth of that love, the importance of that connection, and the meaning it held in our lives. We don't have to stop grieving in order to start living again. We can miss someone terribly and still experience joy. We can carry heartbreak and gratitude, anger and love, sadness and laughter, sometimes all in the very same moment. Our lives may never look the way we imagined, but that doesn't mean they can never hold beauty or meaning again.

At Intermission Grief, all grief is welcome. Whether you're grieving the death of a child, spouse, parent, sibling, friend, or beloved pet, or struggling with the loss of a relationship, career, home, independence, support system, cherished possession, a dream for your future, or even the person you used to be, your grief deserves to be acknowledged. You do not have to compare your loss to anyone else's or prove that your pain is worthy of support. If it mattered to you, your grief matters here.

I can't promise to take away your pain, and I would never pretend to understand every detail of your personal experience. What I can promise is to meet you with compassion, honesty, patience, and the understanding that grief is as individual as the love and life behind it.

You don't have to rush into your next act. You don't even have to know what it looks like yet.

For now, give yourself permission to have an Intermission.