Life has a way of serving us moments we never ordered
One day, the table is set just the way you imagined, and the next, something unexpected is staring back at you — like a fork in your tea
My “fork” came the day I lost my husband. This was only two years after losing my dad and my sister. These significant, meaningful relationships — the anchors of my life — were suddenly gone, leaving me not only with grief, but also with the quiet and the unknown. It wasn’t just the empty chair or the paperwork; it was stepping into a silence I had never known before, a life I didn’t recognize.
Widowhood is a club you never want to join, yet here I was: a reluctant 46-year old member, trying to figure out how to drink my tea while learning to use a fork to stir it!
If you’ve found yourself with your own “fork in the tea,” you’re welcome here. Pull up a chair, pour yourself a cup of tea, and know you’re not alone.
Hi, I’m Holly — a Minnesota mom of three grown kids, a widow of eleven years, and a lifelong believer that stories can stitch people back together.
I’ve weathered long winters, longer seasons of grief, and more unexpected “forks” in life’s menu than I ever imagined. For years, I drifted through the quiet ache of loss, floating from one day to the next, searching desperately for the thing that would finally stick. Oddly enough, the one anchor that never wavered was my tea ritual — the warmth, the steadiness, the reminder that even when life tilts, something comforting can still be poured. And somewhere between the steam, the stories, and the slow healing, I finally felt something stick… maybe even my purpose.
Here in my little corner of the internet, I write to help others find their way through the messy middle of loss — the tears, the laughter, and that stubborn streak of hope that keeps showing up anyway. My favorite metaphor for it all? “What the fork?” or “Is that a fork in my tea?” Those little phrases let me lean into the humor of my life rather than slipping into the dark, which was always the easier default. A fork can stir the storm, sure — but it can’t stop life from slipping through the spokes. And somehow, that simple, ridiculous, wonderful truth has carried me forward.
I have three wonderful adult children and a beautiful future daughter-in-law. I am deeply blessed, and even though there’s a piece of our family puzzle forever missing, we’ve learned how to live around that space — sometimes awkwardly, sometimes gracefully, but always together. I also share my home with a wildly energetic Jack Russell named Ziggy, who is truly unhinged in the most lovable way. Maybe his chaos is exactly what keeps me sane?!
This space is for anyone learning to move through grief with courage, humor, and a willingness to keep pouring another cup. Welcome — I’m glad you’re here. All are welcome at this table.
