Finding Joy in Life’s Hardest Moments

Life is precious. It’s something we all know, yet it’s easy to take for granted—until we’re faced with the reality of loss. I’ve seen a lot of death in my 41 years, more than I ever thought I would. I’ve been in the same room as loved ones took their last breath, watching as their soul moved on to what I pray is a better place, or at least their hearts and souls are now at peace. It’s something you never forget.

The only peace I find in those moments is knowing they are whole again—free of pain, sickness, and suffering. But the weight of grief remains for those of us left behind. I often wonder: Does everyone experience this much loss? Is it just a part of life we all face, or does it feel heavier for some?

Holding Onto Memories

One of the most complex parts of losing someone is continuing to live in a world they no longer exist in. Their laughter, their voice, the way they lit up a room—those things don’t just disappear from our hearts. I find myself clinging to stories, retelling them to keep their memories alive.

Like how my mom would practice The Wobble in her room, so excited to show me when I visited. She would play the song over and over, making sure she had it just right before proudly demonstrating her moves. She was so full of life, always ready to dance and laugh. And disco? That was her thing. She loved Stayin’ Alive by the Bee Gees and I Love the Nightlife by Alicia Bridges. Every time those songs come on, I can still see her singing along, grooving like she didn’t have a care in the world.

I miss that energy — that joy. And I wish I could see her dance one more time.

A Prayer for Breath

I remember standing in a hospital room with my family, hands clasped together in prayer, pleading for my Aunt Tammie to breathe. Just one breath on her own, and there would be hope. But as we prayed with everything we had, she took her last breath instead.

We thought she was leaving this world as an organ donor, but after she passed, they discovered cancer throughout her body—her stomach, liver, and more. If she had lived, she would have faced endless treatments, surgeries, and suffering. And maybe, just maybe, God spared her from that pain. She had her stroke while singing praise at church—a moment so fitting for the amazing woman she was.

The Moment Life Changes

I’ve been there, sitting in a nursing home as my grandmother held on for her last moments. She waited for my dad to arrive, and as soon as he kissed her forehead and said, “Hi, Mama,” she let go.

I’ve been there, lying on the floor next to my mom’s bed in her final hours, my brother beside her, our two dogs curled up next to her, unaware of the weight of the moment. We all slept in that hospice room together in Tulsa, and at 4 a.m., we were woken not by a doctor, but by the dogs barking. They knew before we did.

And now, I find myself here again, mourning another loss—one I never saw coming.

Losing My Friend

Today, as I write this, my heart aches. Just hours ago, I found out that one of my dearest friends had taken her own life. A beautiful, vibrant soul who had been in my life for 12 years—always at every party, every celebration, every baby shower, every lake trip. She was successful, kind, and radiant. She had a loving husband and two dogs. She was the kind of person who made others feel special.

But behind the smile, she was struggling. And I never knew just how much.

We had talked so many times about getting out on the lake. They had just fixed up their sailboat, and we kept saying, “Let’s take it out soon!” But work got in the way. Life got busy. And now, that day will never come.

It’s not just her. I can think of five friends, five, who have taken their own lives. And then others have passed from illness, accidents, or other circumstances. This is the second friend I’ve lost this year alone, who I had plans—plans we never followed through on.

Just last week, I was putting together my annual Kentucky Derby guest list, and of course, her name was on it. I had even thought about how excited I was to see her. Now, there will be an empty spot where she used to be, and that’s a hard thing to accept.

Make Time for the People You Love

We say “Let’s get together soon.”
We say “Let’s plan something.”
We say “I’ll call you next week.”

And then we don’t. Because work is busy. Because life gets hectic. Because we assume we have time. But sometimes, we don’t.

There’s a book I’m reading right now called Essentialism, and it talks about how our time is our most valuable resource. It’s about prioritizing what truly matters—not just saying we’ll find a day, but actually picking one. Putting it on the calendar. Making it happen. But in turn, also learning to say no sometimes, which is okay!

We have to stop flaking out. Stop pushing things off. Stop assuming there will be another chance.

Be there for your friends when they need you. Be there for the big events, the small moments, the times they simply want your company. Because you never know when it will be the last time.

Choosing to Find Joy

Life is short. It’s unpredictable. And if I’ve learned anything, it’s that we have to be intentional about finding joy. Not just surviving, but truly living.

We have to do the things that make us happy—whether that’s horseback riding, playing pickleball, painting, traveling, or simply spending time with people who make our souls lighter. We need movement, laughter, and connection. We need to take care of our bodies, fuel them with good food, and treat them with kindness.

Did you know that broccoli is one of the best cancer-fighting foods? Or that avocado is packed with nutrients to nourish your body? Small choices matter. Cutting out processed meats, soda, or fast food may seem small, but they add up. We only get one body. One life. It’s up to us to make it count.

Hold Onto Those You Love

If you’re reading this, let this be your reminder. Call your loved ones. Make time for that dinner, that trip, that conversation. Because one day, all we’ll have left are the memories. And I want to make as many good ones as I can.

In loving memory of my beautiful friend. I miss you forever.

Love, Tiffany