The Space Between Joy and Grief

The place in between can feel overwhelming some days. I’m trying to walk my daughter through all her firsts while quietly wondering if I’m also walking through my dad’s lasts.

My heart feels stretched tight between grief and excitement. Some days I don’t know what I’m supposed to do—celebrate, cry, or just scream at how unfair it all feels. I think about how I didn’t start my family until I was 34, and how my dad developed dementia so young… and now their timelines are colliding in ways I never expected.

And then, one day this spring, God gave me a moment.

I was out walking with my family when I captured something on my phone—something simple, something ordinary. The kind of moment I’ve seen a hundred times before. But this time, it felt different. It felt sacred.

That moment reminded me to step back and really see what’s in front of me—to soak in the beauty of the relationship these two get to share. The innocence and purity of my daughter’s love for her Papa. The deep, steady love my dad has for his granddaughter.

Even on his hardest days, when his memory fails him, she can still light up his face. And somehow, that brings me more comfort than I can explain.

So maybe—just maybe—my sweet little girl came into my life exactly when she was meant to. For such a time as this.

This is the hardest season of my life so far. But even here, I am so deeply thankful. God has gently reminded my heart not to get lost in grief and miss the richness—the love, the beauty—that is still here, still unfolding, right in front of me.