“I’m not scared of your grief,” Amber whispered, squeezing his fingers. “You’re not broken. You’re a father who lost his child. And you’re still loving her the only way you know how.”
That night didn’t mark the end of their love—it marked a new beginning.
In the days that followed, they talked openly. For the first time in years, Steve considered grief counseling. Amber helped him research therapists. They read articles about coping with loss after marriage and spoke to others who had walked similar paths.
Steve began to open up—not just to Amber, but to himself.
Healing Doesn’t Happen Alone
Therapy wasn’t easy. There were setbacks, moments of hesitation, even anger. But Amber stayed beside him, supporting him through every appointment, every memory, every hard conversation.
Their home began to shift. What was once a quiet, reserved space turned into a sanctuary of healing. They added framed photos of Stacy to their bookshelves. They lit candles on her birthday. They built small traditions to keep her memory alive—not as a haunting shadow, but as part of their growing love.
Amber even sent gift baskets to support groups and therapists who had helped them along the way—small tokens of gratitude from a woman who had learned that healing is a group effort.
Through it all, they grew stronger—not in spite of Steve’s past, but because they honored it together.
