Six months after loss, watching my daughters hold each other up

Six months.

Half a year since the day that split our lives into before and after. Some days it feels like yesterday. Other days it feels like we’ve lived a hundred years without him.

Last week, my 13-year-old stood in church in her white dress and had her Confirmation Celebration. She looked older somehow, but still so much like the little girl who used to play basketball with her dad in the driveway.

Her sister stood beside her as her sponsor, hand gently on her shoulder. Watching them together, I realized something I hadn’t fully seen until today: They are carrying each other through this.

It should have been a day with their father in the pews with that quiet pride he always had when the girls reached a milestone. I caught myself glancing around the church. It was just six months ago we had Paul’s funeral service here. Now it feels empty and quietly sad — but at the same time hopeful, if that makes any sense.

Their sisterhood felt almost sacred in church. When one wavered, the other steadied her. They are learning something far too early about love — that sometimes it means holding each other up when someone important is missing.

Spring is only beginning, and I know it will be a difficult one.

There will be a daddy-daughter dance where a chair will feel empty.

An eighth-grade graduation where applause will echo a little differently.

Games and tournaments where they’ll scan the sidelines out of habit.

Milestones have a way of shining a light on absence.

As their mother, I feel a quiet responsibility now to guide them through these moments without letting the sadness swallow the joy that still belongs to them.

I can’t replace what they lost. No one can. But I can remind them of what remains.

Their faith.

Their memories.

And the fierce, unbreakable love they have for each other.

If this year teaches us anything, I hope it’s that grief doesn’t mean love has ended. It means love is still here, just in a different form, carried in stories, in quiet prayers, in the way these two girls help each other.

In church, as they stood side by side, I felt something I haven’t felt in a long time.

Not peace exactly.

But the beginning of it.

And maybe that’s enough for now.