The Heartbreak and Healing I Felt Returning to the Last Place We Were Together

Joy and Pain: Reflections from the ShorelineA Return to the ShoreI find myself on a familiar stretch of sand in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. As I sit on the deck, the ocean breeze carries memories with it—some soft, warm and pleasant, some jagged and weighty. It's Tuesday, June 17. I usually lose track of time on vacation, but this date rings in my head with clarity. One week from today marks ten years since Shayna left her body. Her tenth Angelversary. The countdown is on.Full CircleWhat strikes me is the quiet poetry of this moment. Eleven years ago, we were here in this very condo. I mean the exact same one. It was our last family vacation with Shayna. We didn't know then that it would be the final one. But time has a way of gently circling back, inviting us to sit with what was and what is. In June 2014, I couldn't even have pictured this moment.The Beach Became Too MuchAfter Shayna passed, the beach became too painful a place for my family. My girls loved the ocean, but that first summer without her, Kayla said, "Not the beach." It held too much pain. So we listened. We went to Arizona instead. And for a while, the sea stayed out of reach.Making Space for JoyNow, a decade later, I return—not just to the shore, but to the memory. To the joy and the pain.One of my favorite songs is "Joy and Pain" by Frankie Beverly and Maze. It speaks to the paradox we all live through: joy and pain as sunshine and rain, both essential for growth. A flower needs the proper balance of sunshine and rain to bloom. So do we.Holding BothIn my work with grieving clients, I often witness how pain takes up all the air in the room at first. It feels like there's no space for anything else. And yet, life whispers an invitation: "Make room for joy, too." Not as a betrayal of grief, but as a partner to it. The sea, this condo, now holds space for both. It was on this deck that we had conversations with our then 14 and 17-year-olds. On that couch, I took the iconic picture of Shayna on her phone. The girls had their first raw oysters, just up the road at the restaurant I will visit tomorrow.Different Faces, Same LoveNext Tuesday will be hard. There's no way around that. But even now, I find moments of laughter with friends, smiles under the sun, and gratitude tucked inside the ache. Eleven years ago, my wife and my daughters were in the condo with me. Today, it's Tom and Amy, friends who carry the journey with me. Different faces, same undercurrent of love.Permission to LiveAs you walk through your seasons of sorrow, remember this: we don't bypass pain. We honor it. We feel it. But we don’t let it consume the entirety of our story. It's okay to smile. It's okay to feel joy. It's okay to live. You're not forgetting them. You're not dishonoring them. They are right beside you, waiting for you to find joy again.You are, in fact, carrying their memory into more moments. Into laughter. Into life.Trusting the ProcessSo here I sit, on the same balcony where I once watched Shayna laugh and take in the waves. I hold those memories close. I smile through tears. I trust that even the painful moments are shaping me into someone who can love deeper, speak more softly, and live more fully. This is where faith comes in, when we can trust not just the joy but the pain is working for us, not against us.Thank You for Walking With MeThank you for letting me share this space with you. I'm grateful for this journey—the whole of it. And I look forward to the day I see my baby again.Your TurnAs you reflect on your journey, where can you allow a little more joy to enter? What memory can you hold today with both gratitude and grace? Please share in the comments, or simply take a moment to breathe it in.If this message resonated with you, I invite you to share it with someone who might need it. And if you're navigating grief, know you're not alone. There's space for all of it—the joy, the pain, and everything in between.🙏 Thank you for being here. Your presence means more than you know. If my words have offered you comfort, insight, or a moment of clarity, consider supporting my work.Your paid subscription or a one-time tip helps me keep sharing stories, tools, and reflections to guide others through grief and growth.Together, we’re expanding consciousness—one heart at a time. 💛 This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit grief2growth.substack.com/subscribe This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit grief2growth.substack.com/subscribe