About Me

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Grief doesn't arrive on a schedule. It doesn't follow the stages you read about, and it doesn't resolve itself neatly when you think you're done with it. It comes in waves — sometimes gentle, sometimes without warning, sometimes in a five-second video clip of someone you loved saying your name.

I know this because I've lived it.

When my dad passed, I was there. In the room, in the moment, in the grief that followed for years afterward. I wrote about it — not for anyone in particular, just to find the words for something that didn't have enough of them. That writing became this space, and this space eventually became a calling.

I'm not a stranger to loss in its many forms. I've grieved a parent. I've grieved marriages that ended, even when ending was the right thing. I've navigated the grief that comes with identity shifts, life transitions, and the quiet losses that don't get acknowledged because the world doesn't always make room for them.

What I've learned is that grief is not a problem to be solved. It's a passage to be witnessed.

I bring a background in psychology, a decade of personal grief work, and a deep belief that every kind of loss deserves to be taken seriously — death, divorce, diagnosis, the life you thought you'd have.

My goal is simple: to help build a grief-literate community in Snohomish County and beyond. A place where people don't have to grieve alone, don't have to pretend they're fine, and don't have to navigate the practical and emotional weight of loss without support.

If you're here because you're in it right now — you're in the right place.

Grief doesn't arrive on a schedule. It doesn't follow the stages you read about, and it doesn't resolve itself neatly when you think you're done with it. It comes in waves — sometimes gentle, sometimes without warning, sometimes in a five-second video clip of someone you loved saying your name.

I know this because I've lived it.

When my dad passed, I was there. In the room, in the moment, in the grief that followed for years afterward. I wrote about it — not for anyone in particular, just to find the words for something that didn't have enough of them. That writing became this space, and this space eventually became a calling.

I'm not a stranger to loss in its many forms. I've grieved a parent. I've grieved marriages that ended, even when ending was the right thing. I've navigated the grief that comes with identity shifts, life transitions, and the quiet losses that don't get acknowledged because the world doesn't always make room for them.

What I've learned is that grief is not a problem to be solved. It's a passage to be witnessed.

I bring a background in psychology, a decade of personal grief work, and a deep belief that every kind of loss deserves to be taken seriously — death, divorce, diagnosis, the life you thought you'd have.

My goal is simple: to help build a grief-literate community in Snohomish County and beyond. A place where people don't have to grieve alone, don't have to pretend they're fine, and don't have to navigate the practical and emotional weight of loss without support.

If you're here because you're in it right now — you're in the right place.