Amanda grew up with a mother who battled mental illness and dangerous manic episodes. Then one night, things turned deadly. “My mother took the life of my stepdad—a man who was our calm in the chaos. Her mental illness, hidden behind closed doors for years, finally exploded in a way we could never undo. I went from daughter to caretaker, from witness to survivor. I held my 14-year-old sister as she cried in her father’s blood. I testified in court against my own mother. And for years, I carried the weight of anger, shame, and confusion.”

Amanda kept moving forward the best was she could. “I adopted my sister. I added 2 sons to our family. I survived a divorce. And then, came Mike—steady, strong, and unafraid of my scars. He loved me with a kind of grace I didn’t know existed. I married my best friend, a man I waited six years for and prayed for since I was a little girl. But eight days after our wedding, I kissed his forehead for the last time.”

The call came. Mike had died in the line of duty while pursuing a suspect. “My husband, my safe place. I didn’t even have time to memorize what it felt like to be his wife before I became a widow. Grief didn’t just bring tears—it brought battles. I lost more than Mike—I lost his three daughters, three pieces of him I wasn’t allowed to hold onto. The law didn’t see me as their mother, even though my heart did.”

Amanda’s grief was paralyzing, but an unexpected friendship provided the first flicker of hope. “Sheila is Mike’s mom. A woman who has endured more loss than anyone should ever have to bear—three sons laid to rest. And still, she loves, gives, and always shows up. Sheila became my best friend and my strength. When I didn’t think I could get out of bed, she reminded me how. When the ache of missing him became too much, she sat with me in the silence. When I lost my sense of direction, she reminded me who I am and who I’m still becoming. Her presence is healing. Her love is a lifeline.”