There are seasons in life when beauty seems to disappear. The mountains are still there. The sunsets haven't changed. Music still plays, people still laugh, and the world continues moving exactly as it did before. But something inside of us has changed. Grief, anger, disappointment, and regret have a way of narrowing our vision until we begin seeing only what hurts. After losing my father and working through some of the complicated emotions that came with that loss, I began t

Healing is a strange road. It rarely runs straight, and it almost never takes us where we expected to go. Since my father’s death, I have found myself thinking about that more than ever. My father was an incredible musician and an even better artist. He could take a blank canvas and create something beautiful, or sit with an instrument and turn emotion into sound. His life, like all of ours, contained both beauty and brokenness. Losing him has reminded me that healing is not

There is a strange kind of grief that comes with losing a parent long before they die. My father’s physical body passed away Saturday at 8:36 p.m., but in many ways, I lost his spirit years ago. The man I remembered—the father I once knew—slowly became harder to find beneath the struggles, choices, and circumstances that changed him. Because of that, his death has brought a complicated grief. I am mourning the man who died, but I am also mourning the man who disappeared long

The Life After Fall book is a fictional story about loss, healing, resilience, and one man’s motorcycle journey toward Alaska and back to himself. This first blog post explores the meaning behind the novel and the road toward rebuilding after the fall.