When I lost my daughter, BriAnna, my world changed forever. Grief reshaped everything I thought I knew about life, love, and purpose. In those early days, I searched for a space where my pain could be seen — where I could talk openly about loss without anyone trying to fix it — a place that felt both safe and healing.
What I found instead was silence. A lack of understanding. And an ache so deep that even breathing sometimes felt impossible.
That absence became the seed for something new.
A Dark and Lonely Place
Grief is a dark, lonely place to be. It’s a world where time stops but life around you keeps moving. Nobody seemed to understand what I was going through — not really. I was angry at people for being there and angry at them for not being there. I pushed them away, but at the same time, I desperately wanted them to stay.
There came a day when the weight of it all broke me completely. I remember being on the bathroom floor — sick, weak, and hollow. I hadn’t eaten, I hadn’t slept, and I was physically and emotionally exhausted. I couldn’t get up. My husband had to lift me off the floor.
He told me, “We’re going to get through this.”
I remember looking at him and asking, “But how?”
That moment — as painful as it was — became a turning point. Because later, when people started asking me how we got through our grief, I didn’t have an answer. There were no resources, no roadmaps, no spaces where people could simply be held in their pain. That realization stayed with me, whispering that there had to be something more.
The Search for Healing
Grief doesn’t follow rules or timelines. It doesn’t fit neatly into stages or boxes. It shows up in unexpected moments — a smell, a song, a memory that catches you off guard. For a long time, I felt like I was surviving minute by minute.
And yet, somewhere within that darkness, I began to see flickers of purpose. I realized that if I couldn’t find the kind of support I needed, maybe I could create it for others.
That thought — fragile at first — grew into a mission.
Building a Place for Healing
Bri’s Lodge was born out of love and necessity. It’s a place where grief is honored, where stories are shared, and where healing happens in the community. Our programs meet people where they are — whether through support groups, one-on-one companioning, children’s programs, or creative healing experiences that help express what words can’t.
Every detail of Bri’s Lodge carries BriAnna’s spirit. Her compassion, humor, and light still guide everything we do.
When people gather here, they find others who understand — who know that grief isn’t something to “get over,” but something we learn to carry with us. Together, we remind one another that love doesn’t end when life does.
Finding Purpose After Loss
Starting Bri’s Lodge has been both a way to honor my daughter’s memory and to help others find their footing when the world feels shattered. My purpose in life became clear: to provide support to those who need it, to ensure no one has to face that dark, lonely place alone.
Grief will always be a part of my story, but so will growth. Through this work, I’ve learned that healing doesn’t mean forgetting — it means finding ways to carry love forward.
There are still days when the ache returns unexpectedly, but there is also joy now — in connection, in community, and in the hope that others might find light through the work that began with one heartbreaking loss.
You’re Not Alone
If you’ve experienced loss, please know this: you don’t have to go through it alone. Whether your grief is fresh or years old, your pain is valid, and your story matters.
Bri’s Lodge exists so that no one has to face what I faced — that dark, lonely bathroom floor moment — without someone to reach out a hand and say, “We’ll get through this, together.”
Grief brought us together. Love keeps us going.
Join the Journey
If this story resonates with you, I invite you to stay connected. Subscribe to our newsletter, follow Bri’s Lodge on social media, or reach out to learn more about our programs and grief support opportunities. Together, we can continue building a community where every person has a safe place to heal.