I met Marie at a conference—two slightly bored strangers who clicked instantly over shared stories, laughter, daughters, and dreams of new businesses.

We were both healthy, happy, and living life to the fullest.

For years, our friendship thrived through phone calls filled with family tales, business wins and losses and vacation plans.

Then, five years later out of the blue, Marie called with news that changed everything: breast cancer. 

Aggressive.

Fast-moving.

A blur of treatments followed… and then she was gone.

I was shattered.

But my grief paled compared to the heartbreak unfolding in her home—four daughters and a husband left reeling from a loss no one saw coming.

Life is glorious but can be extremely unfair too.

She had planned to come home. Her only preparations were casseroles in the freezer and school carpool numbers on the fridge.

I never got to say goodbye.

She never went on another weekly date night with her husband.
She never read another bedtime story.
Or made another apple crumble for the Winter school fair.
Or had any more disco parties in the kitchen with her daughters.

It made me think so much about my children, and if things went pear-shaped in my life, what could I pre-prepare for them?

As a small contingency of a sort, I’ve written Personal Letters to my children.

If life ever throws the unthinkable our way, my love and my words will live on—offering comfort, strength, and a sense of me… even when I’m not there.