When I first started sharing my feelings, posting on my personal Instagram about my journey, I didn’t expect much. At the time, my account was private. I was protective about who I let in, keeping it close to family and friends who I knew held positive thoughts for me and my children.

But then something happened.

My husband passed away, yes. His body is no longer with us. We can’t see him or hold him the way we used to. But his essence, his love, and everything he gave us remain untouched.

My love for him is infinite. So is my admiration, my pride, and my devotion. I feel him here with me, in my heart, in our children, in our home, in us.

Not really, but when we were moving to Canada, that’s what I told the kids.

Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t lie. They knew we were moving to Canada. But I wanted to set them up for success, to plant in their minds the idea that we were embarking on an adventure. I wanted their expectations to be that we’d arrive in a place almost entirely covered in ice.

Yes, you are alive. Yes, you are breathing. But it doesn’t feel like it. You keep waking up; you keep existing in this lifetime. Day after day, you move through what life asks of you, fulfilling the promise to stay alive.

Life is too short to hold back.

Sean knew this better than anyone. He didn’t wait for the perfect moment or for life to fall neatly into place. He lived all in, fully, deeply, freely. And because of that, he left behind more than memories. He left lessons, etched into the way he loved and the way he gave.

Meeting you, having you, and loving you has been my greatest blessing, my biggest pride, and joy. How incredibly lucky I am to be your wife, to call you my husband. You showed me that true, infinite love exists—love that can be touched.