Grief, Grace and Growing

September 8, 2026

Dear Rob,

When you were here, taking PTO was something I hardly ever did unless we had a big family trip. Otherwise, we used it when the kids were sick. We would divide and conquer. Some days you took time off, and the remaining days, I would take time off. That’s just what we did as a married couple. I miss that. Now it’s just me. But with my job, I have vacation time, sick time, and even a mental health day. Yes, a mental health day!

At the end of September, I will be transitioning AGAIN to another supervisor. This will be my fourth supervisor. Yes. You read that correctly. It’s not me, I promise. The supervisor who hired me left in November, and that was hard because we instantly clicked. Then I was under my current boss, followed by a temporary boss whom I got along with very well.

Now I am transitioning to someone completely different from what I am used to. When I was informed about the change, I was very emotional. I felt blindsided, and I felt like I had no input. But I also didn’t have a say in your sudden death either, so this is something I just have to accept and learn to cope. 

To help me prepare for my big transition date, I took today off. And I plan on taking a couple more days off in the next few weeks after my lead worker returns from her vacation. I told my boss, “I need time to adjust and prepare.”

Today, I took time off for self-care. After a long day yesterday at the State Fair and walking around for hours, I definitely needed it. Since your death, I look at self-care a lot differently now. When you were here, self-care was at the bottom of my list. I was busy being a mom and busy being a wife. Looking back, I wish we had both taken better care of ourselves. We were always running from one sports activity to another. Three kids. Three schedules. So much going on. I wish we had prioritized our health and self-care more.

The truth is, last year, self-care was still at the bottom of my priority list. I found myself curled up on the couch, just staring at the wall. I could hear all the outside noises, yet my body and mind were frozen. I lost a lot of weight that summer. I had never experienced so much physical pain. My stomach hurt so much. I lost so much hair. I felt so weak, yet I had to keep moving for the kids. I was the only parent left. I lost my appetite. My mom would beg me to eat, yet I couldn’t. Eating a meal without you felt so strange and weird. I ran out of fuel. I was exhausted, yet I couldn’t fall asleep. I cried every night underneath the blanket while our children were asleep; and wiped the tears the next morning and kept going. 

My self-care routine has improved a lot since you were here. I made the poor decision last summer to purchase a membership to Just For Me Spa. Last year, I envisioned frequent massages and facial appointments. So far, it’s been mostly facial appointments.

Along with the spa membership, I have had regular massages and Reiki healing sessions. I’ve gotten manicures and pedicures. I’ve gone to therapy for a year and am now completing EMDR. I’m seeing a chiropractor and I’ve also seen a homeopathic doctor as well. And I have learned that although all the self-care in the world cannot fix a broken heart, taking care of myself is one of the most important things I can do to heal. I am not my best self if I don’t make time for myself. I make sure I get enough sleep so I’m not so crabby with the kids. I rest and take naps on the weekends when I feel like I need them. It makes a huge difference when I get enough sleep. And it feels so good to be able to sleep through the night.

My next area to improve is making sure I am taking care of my body. Exercising on a routine basis. Eating healthy foods. Taking my supplements. Grief makes it so hard to stay motivated and move. But I know that if I want to keep healing, I need this.

Besides self-care, I also had to take care of bills. June and July, I really tried to live in the moment. We stayed in a lot of hotels this summer and made wonderful memories for the kids. There were a lot of after game dinner outings. August was a tough the month. Between uniform, school supplies, school activities, car insurance, it was a big hit. So today was resetting and working on my budget again.

And then there is the paperwork that had been sitting on the back burner. Again, when you are deep in grief, all these things just become a blur. Looking back, I honestly needed a guardian last summer. Someone to take my hand and help me navigate my new world. Help me with my finances. Help me with paperwork. Help me understand what all the fine print meant. Help me understand the different types of insurance plans. I was in such survival mode, wanting things done right away, that I missed the bigger details.

Now I’m trying to fix things. For example, I was told last week at Charlie’s appointment that our insurance wouldn’t cover it because they were not listed as our PCP. I thought I had selected the clinic, but only my clinic was listed on all the cards, and I didn’t notice until now!

So today, I spent the afternoon making calls to the clinic and to my insurance company. If someone else could have done that for me, I would have appreciated it. I would love to be able to put down my heavy plate and have someone else guide me and help me carry it. But the reality is that I am on my own. I need to take care of it.

One thing you are missing is that our kids get home much earlier now. So dinner was ready by 5 p.m. The kids and I sat around our little Korean table. We talked about our day. We talked about the passing of our old neighbor, Van. We have so many wonderful memories from when we first moved in and how warm and welcoming Van and his wife were. They have both passed away and it is sad. Twelve years ago, we all were outside talking. They visited when both Charlie and Viv were born. It’s the reality of life, I guess. And it’s a realization how precious life is and to enjoy every moment. 

After your death, Van Jr. came out to support Charlie at his last baseball game when they honored you. Van also helped Anders with my bed because the box was so heavy. He invited Charlie and Viv over to swim at his parents’ house to give them some sense of normalcy. And this winter, when your car slid down a slippery road, it was Van who helped Anders get out of the snow.

The rest of the night, I finished cleaning Vivian’s room. You never liked a messy space, and you would freak out if you were here. That’s another task that had been sitting at the bottom of my list. I’m doing my best to teach Viv that this is her responsibility and that if she lets go of all the stuffed animals and trinkets, she wouldn’t have much to clean and she would have more space in her room to hang out. But she simply can’t let go of all her prize possessions.

I did notice, while cleaning her desk, that she kept the little wedding gift we gave our guests—a Korean couple doll. For a brief moment, there was a bit of sadness knowing that we are no longer married. Then I thought of my “joy” this morning. Right before your death, for our 20th anniversary, I received a beautiful ring from you. I only got to wear it for a week. Then during the move, I misplaced it. I search high and low and this morning, I found it randomly. I screamed with joy. And I decided, I’m going to enjoy wearing it.

Today was a productive and simple day. I relaxed. I saw Rachel, and we enjoyed a nice breakfast at Perkins. And for the rest of the day, I rested and checked things off my to-do list. Tomorrow is back to reality and returning to work.

But I think I’m finally beginning to understand something you never had the chance to teach me: I have to take care of me, too.

For so long, I was busy taking care of everyone else. I was a mom. I was a wife. I was the person making sure everyone had what they needed. Somewhere along the way, I forgot that I was a person who needed care, too.

Now, I don’t have a choice.

It’s just me.

And maybe that’s not entirely a bad thing.

Maybe this new chapter isn’t only about learning how to survive without you. Maybe it’s about finally learning how to love the person who is still here.

Me.

I am learning that taking a day off isn’t being lazy. Rest isn’t selfish. A massage isn’t frivolous. A nap isn’t wasted time. Going to the chiropractor isn’t something I can keep putting off. Eating better, moving my body, sleeping enough, going to therapy, laughing with a friend, sitting at breakfast for an hour, or simply doing absolutely nothing for a little while—these aren’t indulgences.

They are ways of reminding myself that I matter, too.

And Rob, I wish you were here to see it.

I wish you could see me learning to take care of myself the way I took care of everyone else.

I wish you could remind me that I don’t have to earn rest.

I wish you were here to tell me, “It’s okay. Take the day off.”

So I’m going to.

I’m going to take the day off when I need it.

I’m going to rest when I’m tired.

I’m going to take care of my body.

I’m going to take care of my heart.

And I’m going to learn, slowly and imperfectly, how to love myself in this new life.

Because you may be gone, but I’m still here.

And I think that’s worth taking care of.

Love,
Jeaney