Sometimes people ask me when I decided to write a children’s book. The truth is… I didn’t. I was just a grieving mother trying to answer impossible questions for a little girl who missed her daddy. And then one August morning, Hope woke me up early and quietly asked me a question I knew someday would come:

“How did Daddy die?”

She was still so little. And in that moment, I honestly didn’t know how to answer her. How do you explain something you are still trying to survive yourself?

After losing my husband, Todd, to veteran suicide in 2019, my life shattered in ways I still struggle to put into words. That night was not only loss. It was trauma. It was fear. It was being held at gunpoint by the person I loved before watching my entire world collapse right in front of my eyes.

I had spent years surviving more than truly healing. Like many surviving spouses and families impacted by suicide loss, I carried enormous grief, trauma, confusion, and silence. I was functioning, raising Hope, working, and trying to move forward — but emotionally, so much of me still felt trapped.

Hope’s question forced me to realize I needed to find a healthier way to understand and talk about grief — not only for her, but for myself.

That search eventually led me back to Scott Mann and his beautiful wife, Monty. Through their nonprofit, Task Force Pineapple, I became connected to a community centered around storytelling, healing, vulnerability, and human connection.

It was there that I was introduced more deeply to The Generosity of Scars framework —the idea that the very wounds we try hardest to hide are often the bridges that connect us most deeply to others.

As part of that journey, I attended a powerful storytelling and healing workshop led by Holly Higgins. A gold star mom who taught me what acceptance meant to finding peace.

And honestly? The workshop wrecked me. I left emotionally exhausted. Drained. Raw. I felt like every wall I had spent years building around myself had suddenly cracked open all at once.

But then, a few days later, something unexpected happened. I felt freer than I had in years. Not because my grief disappeared. Not because the trauma no longer existed. But because I had finally stopped hiding from it. For the first time since Todd’s death, I no longer felt trapped inside my own story. And around that exact same time, Hope was learning about stars, planets, and outer space.

One night, a simple thought quietly entered my mind: What if a little star went on a journey to find her daddy’s light?

That single idea became the foundation for Starry’s Journey — a heartfelt children’s book about grief, love, healing, and maintaining connection after loss. The story follows Starry as she travels through space searching for her daddy’s light, discovering along the way that love never truly disappears.

In many ways, the book became the conversation I didn’t yet know how to have with my daughter. A way to explain grief through wonder instead of fear. Through connection instead of silence. Through hope instead of darkness.

The book is also deeply personal in ways many readers may not immediately recognize. The characters throughout the story are subtle nods to Todd’s biological nieces and nephew. Hidden throughout the pages are haikus, symbolic details, and Easter eggs tied to our family, our healing journey, and the people who helped carry us through unimaginable loss.

Before Starry’s Journey ever became a thing, I first shared pieces of it with my “White Star Tribe” — a community of people connected through suicide loss and shared grief journeys. Their encouragement helped me realize this story might not only help Hope…it might help other families too.

One of those people was my dear friend, Kari Ellis, who became part of that journey alongside me.

Through our connection in the White Star Tribe, Kari eventually introduced me to Emma Brannon, the illustrator of Starry’s Journey. And that’s when something truly beautiful began to unfold. From the moment Emma and I connected, it felt aligned. She immediately understood the softness and heart behind the story — the whimsy, the emotion, and the importance of creating a safe and comforting visual world for grieving children. Emma brought Starry and her universe to life in ways I could have ever imagined on my own.

Together, we created a story intentionally designed to help children process grief, loss, love, and healing after the death of a parent or loved one. And from the beginning, there was one very important goal: To place this book into Hope’s hands by her 7th birthday. WHICH HAPPENED! Seeing her receive this book, after she was the main creative driver behind Starry’s characteristics, was the joy my heart has been missing for years.

That dream became the driving force behind everything. Today, Starry’s Journey has grown into something far bigger than I ever expected. What began as a story for my daughter became the foundation for Starry is Hope — a nonprofit dedicated to supporting children and families grieving the loss of military service members and first responders through storytelling, grief resources, and community.

At its core, Starry’s Journey is more than a children’s book about grief. It’s a story about surviving unimaginable darkness and still choosing to search for light. And maybe most importantly…It’s proof that sometimes the stories born from our deepest pain become the very things that help others feel less alone.

The Story Behind Starry’s Journey