Stop and Smell The Flowers

Dear Olivia,

I’m terrified of December 8th. Tomorrow marks 11 months without you, and the thought of facing a full year without you by my side is unbearable. Time keeps marching forward, but I’m not ready to let it. I wish I could dig in my heels, stop the clock, and refuse to face the reality of time spent without you here. Months slip by like sand through my fingers, but a year—that’s a mountain of emptiness I can’t bear to climb.

In the hollow, aching place where you left me, I’ve begun to realize something miraculous. It’s like a seed I didn’t know you planted has taken root—a seed nourished by the love you poured into me every day of your life. That seed has pushed through the darkness of loss, forcing me to grow in ways I couldn’t have imagined. I’m becoming something new, something I would never have been without you. This bloom, this journey, is something I never asked for—but it’s what you left me. Because of you, I’m finding the strength to help others bloom, too. And so, Bloom A New You was born, just as I began to bloom into a new me.

Looking back, flowers were woven into the fabric of our lives together, symbols of your enduring presence. On the morning after you passed, a small bouquet of flowers from a wreath above my bed fell gently onto my pillow, as if you’d sent them yourself to remind me you were still near. Since that day, you’ve left me countless little signs—flowers appearing out of nowhere, as if you’re still here, still watching over me, reminding me that I’m not alone. Those flowers have become my lifeline, my reminder that love transcends even death. I carry them with me, just as I carry you in my heart.

I look back at all I’ve managed to accomplish—from graduation, to starting my career as a therapist, to creating comfort boxes and bracelets inspired by you. And yet, each accomplishment feels bittersweet. I know that if you hadn’t left, none of this would exist. I’d trade every victory, every piece of progress, just to have you here with me. But I also know that you’re still guiding me, that your love lives on in each act of kindness I’m able to give in your name. My work—these bracelets, these comfort boxes—is my way of continuing what you taught me.

 You taught me to love without boundaries, to find beauty in small things, and to be present in every moment. And now, in your honor, I hope to bring that same comfort to others who are walking the path of grief, just as you would have brought comfort to me.

Every day without you feels surreal, like I’m wandering through a world that doesn’t quite feel real. Your life, once so vibrant and full, has become a collection of memories that feel like half-faded dreams. In those early months after you left, my body would still react as if you were here—I’d turn onto our street and feel that familiar excitement, only to remember you weren’t waiting at the door. Those welcomes, the way you’d wiggle in my arms and squeal with joy—it was a love so pure, so complete, that nothing in this world could ever replace it. I long to feel that again.

For months, I kept our routines as if you were still here. I’d go outside, waiting, half-hoping I’d see you bounding toward me. But as time has passed, the routines have faded, and every part of me resists the reality that I’m learning to live without you. I miss everything—your smell, your tiny sounds, the way you’d speak to me without words, the way you’d just be. You were my perfect companion, my other half, and the silence you left behind is deafening.

The ache of losing you doesn’t lessen, but it’s sharper now, cutting deeper as December approaches. I want you back. And I know that’s impossible. So I’m doing the next best thing—I’m giving others just a fraction of the love, comfort, and connection you poured into my life. That’s become my purpose because of you, my precious little soul. You taught me more about life, more about love, than any human ever could. I hope you’re wearing a medal for excellence in heaven—you earned it a thousand times over.

You were my lucky number 7, perfect in every way. You completed me, and in your absence, that seed of love you planted has started the slow, painful process of blooming into a new me. Because of you, Bloom A New You isn’t just a company; it’s a legacy of your love, a way to spread the light and comfort you gave me to those who need it most. My sweet Olivia, you changed my world. And because of you, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to change others’ worlds, too.