From grief to light

There are moments in life that change you quietly, and then there are moments that change everything.

Losing my grandma was one of those moments for me.

Her name was June E. DuBois, and she wasn’t just my grandma, but she was also warmth, comfort, laughter, and a kind of love that felt safe no matter what was going on in life. She had this way about her that made everything feel okay. Like no matter how heavy things got, you could sit with her and just breathe again.

But she was also the strongest woman I have ever known. I hope to be even half as strong as she was.

She battled through so much in her life and never once let it get her down. Multiple types of cancer & survived a heart attack. She even faced losing her sight temporarily when my uncle was born and still through all that she kept going. She kept loving. She kept showing up for her family with a strength that never needed to be loud to be powerful.

She didn’t just live life… she also fought for it.

And somehow, through all of that, she remained soft, kind, and full of love. The kind of woman who carried so much, yet still made everyone around her feel lighter.

One of the moments I will hold onto forever is when she was in the room when my first daughter was born.

I was only 16, stepping into motherhood at such a young age, unsure of so many things and feeling the weight of how much my life was about to change. But she was there. Steady. Present. Loving me through that moment in a way only she could.

My mom was also a teen mother when she had me, so being there for me just came naturally to her. She understood in a way not everyone could. She didn’t judge me, she supported me. She even threw me a baby shower, despite how young I was, making sure I still felt celebrated, loved, and prepared for what was ahead.

I know how much it meant for her to be there in the room along with my mom when my first daughter Avalynne was born. Four generations in one room at the same time.

and looking back I realize just how life changing that moment was for me too. That was the beginning of me becoming a mother and she was right there, witnessing it, supporting it, and loving me through it.

That memory feels even more sacred now.

After I left the hospital, she even stayed over at our house for a whole week after just to make sure she was there if I needed any help with adjusting to being a new mom.

When I was younger, she used to talk to me often about her own grandmother, about the things she loved about her, the memories she held onto, and how much she meant to her. At that time, I didn’t fully understand how deep that kind of love could go.

But I do now.

And one day, if I’m lucky enough to have grandchildren of my own, I will make sure they know just how great my grandma was. The way she loved, the way she showed up. the way she made people feel.

And now she’s gone.

at least that’s what I thought at first.

Grief is strange. It comes in waves you don’t expect, it shows up in quiet moments, in memories, in random times of the day when you wish you could just hear their voice one more time. There were days where it felt overwhelming, still does, like I have lost a piece of myself.

But somewhere in the middle of that grief, something shifted.

It didn’t happen all at once. It was subtle. Quiet. Almost like a whisper.

I started to feel her differently.

Not in a way that was scary or confusing, but in a way that just felt peaceful. Like she was still with me just not in the same physical way. In the warmth of the sun. In the calm moments. In the little and big signs that didn’t feel like coincidences.

It was like losing her opened something in me that has always been there.

Something deeper.

Something intuitive.

Something I had ignored for a long time and tried to push away.

My whole life, I’ve felt things deeply. I’ve been sensitive to energy, to people, to emotions that weren’t always mine. I’ve been drawn to spirituality, to understanding more than what we can physically see. I even had opened a crystal business because of this at one point. Like I was searching for something, even if I didn’t fully understand what it was yet.

But after my grandma passed, it all became clearer. SO MUCH CLEARER.

It wasn’t just interest.

It was a calling.

This space, Manifesting Her Light, was born from that realization.

This isn’t just a blog. It’s not just content. It’s not just about “being positive” or “manifesting a better life.”

It’s about healing.

It’s about growth.

It’s about learning how to reconnect with yourself in a world that constantly pulls you away from who you really are.

It’s about understanding that even in loss, there is transformation.

That even in grief, there is love that doesn’t leave.

And that sometimes the people we lose don’t disappear, they become part of the light that guides us forward.

My grandma is part of that light for me now. The reason I’m sharing this.

If you’re reading this, maybe you’ve experienced loss too. Maybe you’re feeling stuck, disconnected, or searching for something more.

You’re not alone.

And maybe, just maybe, this space can be part of your journey now too.

This is only the beginning.

And I’m so glad you’re here <3

If you knew my grandma, I’d love for you to share a memory or something you loved about her in the comments below. :)