Michelle Hord Tragically Lost Her Daughter in 2017 and Just Welcomed a Son. Here’s How She’s Holding Both Grief and Joy

This time of year, we are bombarded on all fronts with signs, sounds, and symbols that are supposed to represent the joy of the holidays. On our various screens, we see images of smiling children, matching pajama sets, perfect gifts, and flawless dinner tables, all suggesting there is a missing shape or color that, if found, will finally make our life picture “right.”

These glossy images supposedly show us what it means to be happy. What it means to celebrate. What it means to have traditions. What it means to be a family. As we carefully compare these images to our own, it is easy to see what is missing in our own life picture. Blank spaces that represent loneliness, disappointment, betrayal, misunderstanding, or even grief. This, however, is a false narrative. And sometimes when the image is missing something, a new piece (peace) is just beyond the horizon.

In June 2017, my own life picture was ripped to shreds. My then-husband committed the unimaginable act of taking our seven-year-old daughter’s life during a tumultuous divorce. Those first set of holidays were impossible to navigate in the way I had traditionally done in the past. Traditions were shattered. Tattered pieces lay all around my feet. I avoided the things too painful to acknowledge in those early days as I sifted through aborted dreams, hopes, and possibilities for my former family. Nothing would ever fit back together the same way again.

That first Christmas, I decided to go on a mission trip to another country by myself. It was something I had never done, was completely out of my comfort zone, and certainly was not a part of my regular picture. It wound up being the perfect thing to do. Instead of focusing on my inward grief, I focused outward. I found solace in the smiles of children who walked barefoot with young siblings in tow, just to experience a little bit of Christmas with complete strangers. Suddenly, there were faint new images among the shreds of memories. And I discovered the possibility of light. Somehow, in this strange land with strangers, I found a new image of family.

As my grief journey continued and memorable dates, places, and holidays threatened to drown me, I stayed buoyant. I realized, like so many of us, that we do not get to choose all of the pictures in our life’s collage. Some are mistakes. Some are tragedies. Some of the dark spots are self-induced, and others are impossible to foresee. Yet, we always have the choice to create something new. To craft new images and build a new picture. Regardless of how things may “look,” it is still your story to tell. You may not have chosen the last images that developed, but you can choose the lasting ones. Among the wreckage, you can decide what images no longer serve you and hold on to the things that have the possibility of bringing joy.

Instead of holding onto the tragedy of my dear Gabrielle’s death, I dedicated myself to finding a way to honor her legacy. I created a nonprofit called Gabrielle’s Wings, which provides elementary-aged children of color in historically vulnerable communities with the kind of resources Gabrielle would have been afforded. We have proudly impacted more than 10,000 children so far in our short history.

Instead of holding on to the ultimate betrayal of my ex-husband, I chose to hold on to the loving relationship I had with his mother, my former mother-in-law. A woman whose only child murdered her only grandchild. We may not “belong” in the same picture anymore by conventional standards, but I lost my own mother in my twenties and chose my relationship with “Ma,” over the evil of her son.

As I searched for peace and solace at a Bahamas resort where I spent so much time with my daughter, I miraculously found an image for my picture that I never could have imagined. A man who was willing to walk slowly with me through the shadows and build new images together. A man to love. My husband, Axel, and I were married on that beach I had often visited with Gabrielle. My former mother-in-law, who he now calls “Ma,” is watching from the front row.

One of Gabrielle’s former caregivers, Flor, was also at the wedding. A young woman who had her own battles with darkness and was no longer in Gabrielle’s life at the time of her death. A woman who I reconnected with in our mutual brokenness after losing my baby. A woman who tattooed my Gabrielle’s name and seven butterflies across her back. Despite our former estrangement, we chose to focus on the common image in our life pictures: our love for Gabrielle.

I always wanted to be a mother, and Gabrielle was born when I was thirty-nine. I had already entered menopause when I got married again. However, Axel and I knew from day one that we wanted to start a family. It pained me that I would not get to share the “traditional” picture of building a family with Axel. However, love always finds a way. Flor, Gabrielle’s former caregiver, gave me the most miraculous gift possible: a nest to grow Gabrielle’s baby brother.

The astronomical costs of surrogacy ran well into the six figures, and we did not have insurance that would cover any of the process. But instead of focusing on our lack, we leaned into images of love. We asked for help, and help showed up. Dear friends started a “fairy godparent” website for us where loved ones could read about our story and donate towards the costs of the surrogacy. Two years later, we are able to share our beautiful newborn son, Alexander, with his many fairy godparents.

So, today, I approach the holiday season and a new year with fragments and shreds of what I had imagined my family to be. I realize now I have the power to frame my own family portrait. Because family is not necessarily based on lineage. Instead, it is truly based on love. History is not as important as community. When I stand back and look at my life picture now, with scraps and bits that do not perfectly fit together, I do not see perfect, I see beautiful.

I see love.

Michelle Hord is a certified leadership coach and strategic consultant who guides people and organizations to thrive through change. As the President of the agency Hope Warrior, Inc. and former Vice President of Creative Content and Talent Management for NBCUniversal, she's produced content for an esteemed list of TV shows and developed solutions for business and talent management. Hord is the author of the bestseller The Other Side of Yet and the founder of Gabrielle's Wings, Inc., a nonprofit she created in honor of her daughter Gabrielle Eileen. Learn more at michellehord.com.