A Thanksgiving Filled With Love, Reflection, and a Little More Light

The start of the holiday season has carried a heaviness for me these past three years. Thanksgiving used to feel warm, joyful, and familiar until life shifted forever. When my Dad passed away unexpectedly the day before Thanksgiving, the holiday took on an entirely new meaning. Every year since then, I’ve felt the ache settle into my spirit long before the turkey hits the table. It’s a reminder of loss, a reminder of the empty space at the head of the family, a reminder of the father who meant everything to me.

But this Thanksgiving, felt slightly different.

Not lighter, exactly — but filled with something soft and steady that I haven’t felt in a while. Love surrounded me this year in a way that felt intentional. It felt like God, my community, and my Dad were all wrapping their arms around me at once, just letting me breathe.

This year, I woke up and chose to start the day by pouring into myself. I rolled onto a reformer for a morning Pilates session something that has been grounding me through this season of rebuilding my mind, my body, and my energy. I moved my body, thanked it for carrying me, and honored the strength that continues to grow in me day by day. After class, I grabbed a matcha (because that’s my comfort ritual), got dressed, and prepared to spend my day eating good food and soaking up good energy with people who truly love me.

I’m giving thanks this year for something I’ve often taken for granted: my health. My physical health, my mental health, my emotional health all of it. There were days not long after losing my Dad when I didn’t recognize myself. Grief changes you. It wears you down, pushes you inward, and forces you to rebuild from the inside out. Taking control of my health has been one of the ways I’ve slowly pieced myself back together. Pilates, walking, journaling, therapy, travel, slowing down… all of it has been part of my healing.

Another moment that meant the world to me this Thanksgiving was visiting my Dad’s mural and the street downtown named in his honor. Standing there, taking it all in, I felt both sadness and pride. Sadness that he isn’t physically here, but pride in the legacy he left for our family, our city, and everyone he touched. I let myself sit in the moment really sit and marinate on what truly matters to me and what I want moving into the new year.

Life has taught me that goals aren’t just about career milestones or external achievements. They’re about alignment. Peace. Purpose. Impact. I want 2026 to be a year where I honor myself the same way I’ve always tried to honor him by using my gifts, by giving love, and by showing up fully, even when it’s hard.

This Thanksgiving reminded me that healing doesn’t come all at once. It shows up in small moments in laughter over dinner, in quiet morning routines, in conversations that feel safe, in the people who hold you together without even realizing it. It shows up in the whisper of a memory when you stand in front of a mural of the man who raised you to sparkle brightly.

So this year, I’m giving thanks. For my Dad. For my health. For my community. For the strength to keep going. And for the subtle shift that tells me I’m moving forward not away from him, but guided by him.

If you’re grieving this holiday season, I’m sending you love. May you find small moments of light the way I did this year. And may the new year bring all of us closer to the things and people that matter most.