Some days I still feel the weight of losing Dawne as sharply as I did in 2016. Grief did not disappear when I learned to keep going. It changed shape. In the silence, I began to pi...

Autumn 2026. The work jacket, the worn cap, and the tractor behind me capture how I imagine Wildwood Farms, but the farm itself is still a dream. I want to find the right land, plant native trees, and build a place where families can dedicate a tree to someone they love. I picture them returning through the seasons, watching a sapling grow into something lasting. Getting there will mean finding support, caring for the land, and doing the hard work long after the first planting. I do not want a tree farm just for th...

Autumn 2026. This close-up reminds me that a dream is more than a nice picture. Wildwood is not a farm yet. It is a promise I am making to myself to keep looking for land, learning how to grow trees, and building a place where families can honor someone they miss. The trees are not planted, but the reason to plant them is already here.

Autumn 2026. I imagine this as the end of a long day at Wildwood, sitting on an old porch, looking out over trees that started as little more than hope. We have not found the land yet. But I know what I want to grow there: a place for families to remember, to heal, and to leave something good behind. The dream deserves the work.

Autumn 2026. In this imagined scene, I am standing beside the Wildwood Farms sign I hope to see for real one day. I want to build a place where families can plant trees for the people they love and return to watch those memories grow. We do not have the land yet, but the dream has a name, a purpose, and a future I am determined to work toward.

Autumn 2026. I look at these young trees and see more than seedlings. I see the Wildwood I hope to build, a place where families can plant something living in memory of someone they love. The land is still a dream, and there is work ahead, but every forest begins with a first tree. I intend to keep moving toward that day.

Autumn 2026. Looking through these woods, I can see the Wildwood tree farm I hope to build. It starts with finding the right land and putting the first saplings in the ground. Someday, I want families to plant a tree in memory of someone they love and return to watch it grow. For now, it's a dream that gives me something to work toward.

Autumn 2026. Sitting beside this tree, I think about what it takes to build something that lasts. The Wildwood tree farm is still a dream, but I can see it clearly: open land, young trees, and families planting in honor of people they never want forgotten. One day I hope this dream gives someone a place to remember, and a reason to come back.

Autumn 2026. The Wildwood Farms name is on my cap, but the land is still a dream. I picture rows of trees, families planting in memory of someone they love, and a place that keeps growing long after we're gone. I don't know every step it will take to get there, but I know why I want to begin.

Autumn 2026. I picture Wildwood as more than a tree farm. A place where people can plant a tree for someone they love, watch it grow, and leave something living for the next generation. The land is still a dream, but the purpose behind it is real. I am not giving up on it.

Ten years since I lost Dawne. This reimagined sunset brings us together again, even if only in a picture. I miss her smile, the way we held each other, and the life we shared. A decade has passed, but some love never fades. She will always be part of who I am.

Ten years since I lost Dawne. This reimagined picture of us hiding behind our coffee mugs makes me think of the laughter we shared over the smallest things. I miss those quiet, ordinary moments more than words can say. Life has moved forward, but my love for her remains.

Ten years since I lost Dawne. Nine reimagined moments of us, but the love behind them was real. The laughter, the little kisses, coffee together, the sunsets. I miss those ordinary moments most. A decade has passed, and she is still part of every chapter of my life.

Dresden, five years ago. Joey and I leaned in across a wooden table for this picture. I remember the easy smiles and the feeling of having nowhere else to be. Sometimes the simplest moments become the memories I hold onto most.

Five years ago in Dresden, Joey and I leaned in for this picture. I love how one photograph can bring back a whole feeling: the warmth, the closeness, and the simple joy of being together. Some memories always make me smile.

Ten years since I lost Dawne. This reimagined moment of us sharing coffee reminds me of what I miss most. Her smile, the comfort of being close, and the simple joy of being together. Life has changed in ways I never imagined, but the love I carry for her has never faded.

Ten years since I lost Dawne. This image is reimagined, but the love behind it is real. I remember her smile, the comfort of being close, and the ordinary moments that meant everything. A decade later, life keeps moving, and I keep carrying her with me.