One Year Later

On Aug. 19, Dear Drew: Creating a Life Bigger Than Grief will celebrate its first anniversary.

It’s hard to believe it’s already been a year since I released into the world the story that had been living in my heart for more than two decades. So much of my life has been shaped by that journey, first through the unimaginable loss of my son, Drew, and then through the years that followed as I slowly learned not just how to survive, but how to build a life that felt meaningful, joyful and deeply connected again.

When I wrote Dear Drew, I wasn’t trying to write another grief book.

I was trying to answer a question.

For years, people had asked me the same thing.

“How?”

How did you find your way forward?

How did you learn to laugh again?

How did you stop feeling like your life ended when someone you loved died?

I realized that what people were really asking wasn’t how to stop grieving. They wanted to know whether it was possible to love deeply, miss someone every single day and still create a beautiful life.

I wanted them to know the answer is yes.

That was the reason I wrote the book.

Over this past year, I’ve received letters, emails and messages from readers who have shared pieces of their own stories with me. They’ve told me they felt seen. They’ve told me they finally had language for feelings they couldn’t explain. They’ve told me the book gave them hope when they weren’t sure hope still existed.

There are no words to describe what that means to me.

Knowing that something born from one of the most painful experiences of my life has become a source of comfort for someone else will always be one of the greatest honors of my life.

As grateful as I am for this past year, anniversaries have a way of inviting reflection.

They encourage us to pause long enough to ask not only where we’ve been, but who we’ve become along the way.

That’s the question I’ve been sitting with lately.

Twenty-six years ago, I didn’t know whether I would ever laugh again.

Today, I wake up genuinely grateful for my life.

That doesn’t mean grief disappeared.

It means life grew.

It means my world became larger than my loss.

Perhaps the most surprising thing I’ve learned is that healing doesn’t end.

It continues to evolve.

Every season asks something different of us.

There are seasons when we’re simply trying to make it through the day.

There are seasons when we’re rebuilding.

There are seasons when we’re called to serve.

And then there are seasons that quietly ask us to become even more fully ourselves.

I believe that’s where I find myself today.

For many years, my life has been centered around learning, healing, writing, speaking and walking alongside people through some of the hardest moments they will ever face. It has been one of the greatest privileges of my life, and it continues to be work I care about deeply.

None of that is changing.

What is changing is the way I want to live alongside that work.

I’ve come to realize that the same message I’ve shared with others also applies to me.

We are allowed to keep becoming.

Lately, I’ve felt a strong pull back toward the things that have always brought me alive creatively.

Painting.

Sculpting.

Designing beautiful spaces.

Traveling without feeling rushed.

Making room for quiet mornings and unhurried afternoons.

Spending time with people I love without constantly thinking about what’s waiting on my to-do list.

For a long time, purpose naturally occupied so much of my attention. I don’t regret that for a second. That purpose has introduced me to extraordinary people and given my life incredible meaning.

But I also know that creativity is part of who I am.

Beauty is part of who I am.

Wonder is part of who I am.

Those parts deserve room to breathe, too.

I don’t see those things as separate from my work.

I think they’ll enrich it.

The more fully I experience my own life, the more fully I can show up for someone else’s.

One of the greatest gifts grief has given me is an awareness that time is precious.

Not in a way that makes me feel hurried.

In a way that makes me feel intentional.

I pay closer attention now to how I spend my days, the conversations I have, the people I surround myself with, the environments that make me feel peaceful and the experiences that remind me I’m fully alive.

Presence has become more important to me than productivity.

Not because achievement no longer matters, but because I’ve learned that a meaningful life isn’t measured only by what we accomplish.

It’s also measured by what we experience, the memories we create, the beauty we notice, the love we give and receive and the moments we’re fully present enough to actually live.

As I celebrate one year of Dear Drew, I don’t feel like I’m closing a chapter.

I feel grateful.

Grateful that I answered the question so many people had been asking.

Grateful that Drew’s life continues to make a difference in the lives of others.

Grateful that the work continues.

And grateful that I can also honor the quiet invitation I feel to keep growing right alongside it.

So yes, you’ll still find me talking about grief.

You’ll still find me advocating for water safety.

You’ll still find me writing, speaking, teaching and encouraging people as they rebuild their lives.

But you’ll also find me with paint on my hands.

You’ll find me exploring new places.

You’ll find me creating beauty simply because it brings me joy.

You’ll find me protecting time with the people I love.

You’ll find me making room for whatever God has planned for this next season.

If these past 26 years have taught me anything, it’s that healing isn’t just about surviving what happened.

It’s about continuing to say yes to life.

Again and again.

Sometimes that yes looks like rebuilding.

Sometimes it looks like serving.

And sometimes it simply looks like becoming more fully yourself.

I think that’s exactly where I am today.

And honestly, I’m excited to see where that leads.

Continue the Journey

If something in this reflection speaks to where you are today, I hope you’ll continue exploring the tools and resources I’ve created to help you move forward while honoring everything you’ve been through.

Explore the Living Library
A collection of practices, reflections and resources to support you through grief, healing and creating a life that feels meaningful again.
Visit the Living Library

Read Dear Drew: Creating a Life Bigger Than Grief
Dear Drew is for anyone wondering how to carry what they’ve lost while continuing to build a life filled with meaning, connection and joy.
Learn more and purchase Dear Drew

Stay Connected
For more reflections, resources and conversations about healing, becoming and saying yes to life, visit MelissaHull.com