The Roots was one of the hardest sections to write.
In my past, I lost the understanding and affections of so many. Not because I didn’t love them, but because I was lost within myself. Being a devoted husband, a reliable provider, a loving father—these were the things I had always wanted to be. Yet, for so long, I couldn’t find my way through the fog of confusion.
This section was me writing my heart. Writing the man I had always dreamed of becoming. And as I filled the pages, I realized something—I had become him.
Somewhere between the madness and the healing, I became the husband I had always wanted to be. The father I had always hoped for. The family man I never thought I could become.
But as I wrote, life was unfolding in the background. Kayla and I found out we were pregnant. We began planning for the next chapter—life as a family of four. The news filled me with energy, with purpose. I wanted to be better, grow more, prepare for this new life we were about to welcome.
Then, just as quickly, the light left us.
We experienced a miscarriage.
Loss came in twos that season. Kayla’s grandmother passed, another beautiful light in our family gone.
I wrote about grandmothers, about their quiet love and their warmth. In sharing years with Kayla’s grandmother, I got to experience something I didn’t realize I had missed—a grandparent’s presence in my adult life. It filled a void I hadn’t acknowledged, the regret of not spending more time with my own grandmother when I was younger, when I still had the chance.
Family is a gift.
The closeness, the connection, the trust that we are not alone in this world—it’s everything. While I wish I had understood the value of what I lost sooner, I see it clearly now.
I am grateful beyond words for the life I have today, for the moments I get to share with my family and friends. The Roots is a testament to that gratitude. To the love I hold close. To the life I now get to live fully.