52 Sunsets is both tribute and testimony. 52 reflections honoring the 52 years of my beautiful sister's life, captured across the first 52 weeks after her passing.
Grief didn't arrive in my life gently. It showed up the day my sister, Michelle, died at 52 years old and split my world into before and after.
In the days that followed, everything looked the same on the outside, laundry, work, dishes, appointments, but nothing felt the same on the inside. The ache that showed up in the quiet moments, or with the the way ordinary days suddenly felt too big and too empty at the same time.
I have always been in love with the evening sunsets. My sister did too. We shared that love.
One night, I stepped out to watched the sunset, I wasn't trying to be poetic or profound. The sky wasn't unusually dramatic that night, but a few minutes, the changing light felt like a place I needed to breathe. To whisper, "I miss you", without anyone expecting me to be strong. The tears flowed and I took solace in that evening's sunset.
That night turned into a small promise: once a week, for the first year without her, I would watch and capture the sunset on purpose. For her. For me.
I didn't always feel ready. Some weeks, I wanted to stay inside hide from the world. Some sunsets were cloudy or grey. Some were breathtaking. Some made me cry in the car. Overtime, I started taking the photos and writing down whatever my heart was saying on those evenings. Somewhere along the way, the number 52 began to mean more than just a "once a week". It became a quiet tribute: 52 beautiful years spent with my sister, and 52 sunsets held in her honor.
This book is the gathering of those moments. This is not a "how to grieve" manual, and it doesn't try and fix or rush anything. Instead, it offers a simple rhythm:
One sky.
One page.
>Bathed in the colors of the evening sky, these images and words invite families, friends, caregivers, and all who mourn to find moments of peace, inspiration, and connection-listening for the whispers, watching for the wings, and trusting God's quiet work of healing. May this book remind you that our loved ones are here and near-always listening, always proud, and forever woven into the light that meets us at day's end.

I wrote 52 sunsets for anyone who has lost "their person" and still looks up at the sky, hoping for a sign, a feeling, or just a little bit of gentle light. My hope is that you move through these pages, you'll feel less alone in your own grief, and maybe find your small rituals of remembrance along the way.

This book is my way of saying, I'm walking under this same sky with you.