Today marks four years of marriage for us. In honor of our day, I asked Alexis to share her perspective on supporting me through my grief. I can’t thank her enough for being my light in the dark. I love you.

In a span of a five years, Dan lost his mom and sister, leaving him without the roles of son and brother.

Lil was a person unlike anyone I’ve ever met, even till this day. She was a light in a room, thoughtful, smart, silly, gentle, and sure of herself. She unconditionally gave to those she loved, and you could see how much she loved Dan and Thea. Our slow-paced walks gave us time to talk about things we both loved. It’s little moments that make such an impact. She would tell me everything and anything about Dan and Thea, and she would show a genuine interest in my life. Lil welcomed me into her family with so much warmth.

Thea was spunky. She loved sharing her most embarrassing memories, talking about the cats, and was a such a foodie. Thea wore her big heart on her sleeve and the people who she loved knew she loved them. Her love language was Facebook memes and taking pictures - she would take the most unflattering pictures of you. Oh Thea! We would say that a lot to her because we had so much love for her, and sometimes chaos would follow her. But who can blame her? Being in your 20s is rough – we don’t need to elaborate –so many people flourish and take off in their 30s. Thea passed away just shy of 30.

Both mornings we received news of Lil and Thea passing away were both so intense and strangely similar. Both times, we were sleeping and didn’t wake easily to the many attempts to reach us. Finally, one of us budged and begrudgingly – because it was early – the phone was finally answered. My initial thoughts both mornings were that maybe it was someone butt-dialing us, or maybe, hopefully, spam. Both times Dan’s sobs and pleas spoke the words that were too painful to say.

I wanted to jump immediately into action and be heroic – to take charge, be certain of everything, and let him focus on surviving.

From the start, there are so many decisions that need to be made: Does he get on a flight now, and I join later? How much should I pack us? What are the next steps with Lil or Thea? Did you tell everyone you needed to? We need to eat at some point. Oh god, what about her animals? And our cat, Penny? Who can watch her last minute for an uncertain amount of time? Should I hug him right now? What do I even say?

All these decisions were looming while Dan is still wrapping his head around what was happening.

We mostly traveled in silence, only speaking when necessary. There was nothing to say, truly – nothing I could say could make it better. I learned, later, that I didn’t need to always make it better, it’s more of how I supported and showed up for him that, I think, made the stronger impact.

Dealing with loss is one of the biggest tests for a relationship. This wasn’t a time for me to focus on my sadness, insecurities, or doubt. Yes, I still felt those things, but in the beginning, I needed to be an anchor for Dan because he was being hit by the first and most intense wave of grief. I had to self-regulate like a pro – take deep breaths, conserve my energy, and find joy in simple things… like garlic knots! Mind you, I’m not a pro at self-regulating in my day-to-day life, but I needed to make sure I was surviving so I could help Dan.

After a few powerful waves of grief, once we returned home and got back to our “everyday life”, we started noticing how the losses affected us. Dan was largely powered through Lil and her daily support of his endeavors, and Thea was a thread that connected his childhood with his adulthood.

When Lil passed, Dan and I had only been dating for two years, and at that time, our relationship still felt “easy”. As we entered our third year together, after many trials and conversations… we realized trying to find perfect peace and living happily ever after is dangerous delusion. Pain, sadness, anger, and grief are as essential as comfort, happiness, safety, and love – and we embraced the darkness and light, which brought us closer.

Thea passed in our first year and a half of marriage. Losing her brought out a basic question we never answered before: how did we want our family dynamics to be? We were discovering that we get to choose what qualities we wanted to incorporate into our own little family. We chose qualities that unconditionally uplift and encourage people around us. We want to show those around us that they matter and be intentional and genuine with our interactions. We aren’t striving for perfection, and we will take accountability if mistakes are made. We chose to wear our love for people on our sleeve.

I learned that grief doesn’t just “go away”. I understand why people don’t like facing grief, it can twist your body and mind so intensely and thrusts you so far out of your norm. It can be a scary, dark, and lonely time. For me. Grief felt like something I had to overcome, an obstacle that my strong will and deep thoughts would take care of.

Dan needed patience for all the times he needed to stop, think about his mom and sister, feel, and release. His grieving process wasn’t something that needed to be fixed, rushed, or hurried. Sometimes I would just quietly be in his space while he did his thing, and other times, I would physically be in his space. I picked up on his little signals so that when he was grieving, I knew what role to take. Afterward, we would just be present with each other and get grounded again.

Being a partner during the darkest of his days required a lot of patience, empathy, openness, and the courage to face hard truths. Once the grief was manageable for him, we could focus on each other and rebuilding where needed and replacing what wasn’t working.

Dan you are the person who I chose to walk along side in this life and whatever comes after. I knew early in our relationship how great of a person you are. Yes, much of who you are is thanks to your mom and sister, but you’ve also made the choice to become the person you are today. You’ve overcome so much in your life, and you’ve done it as gracefully as I can imagine. I love you. I love who you were before your losses, I love who you are now, and I’m excited to love the amazing person you will be.

Me and Dan

Into the thick of it.