Exploring the Life-Death-Life Cycle

We’ve all heard the phrase with every ending comes a new beginning. Right? But did you ever really stop and think about it.

Endings are inevitable.

    • We fall in love, all is well, but with time our values and needs change, so we decide to end the relationship.
    • We go to primary school, high school, maybe university and beyond, then with graduation, our formal education ends.
    • We get land a job. We work hard for however long it takes to become disenchanted, seek something new, or get laid off.
    • We get married. We start a family. And with each new role — mother, father, spouse, head-of-household, friend — another past identity evolves or fades away.

Endings are a part of life; and beginnings are inherently dependent upon them. Endings and beginnings can’t exist without the other.

While beginnings are viewed with excitement and vitality, endings are approached with fear and sadness.

Beginnings are viewed as success, yet endings are viewed as failure.

Our society tends to celebrate quantity — how long we stay in a job, survive in a marriage — but fail to even acknowledge quality. (How many “long” relationships do you know that are dysfunctional)?

We equate change with disruption and turmoil. Consistency with peace and stability.

And to top it all off…we qualify ALL OF IT!

Stable = good

Disruption = bad

It’s such a strange phenomenon.

And, like all the other endings we might experience in life, death is by far the most feared. The most taboo. The most avoided. Yet, the only certainty we have in life!

So why we are so afraid of endings?

I don’t have the answers, but I’m committed to asking the questions and changing the conversation around death, end-of-life and our societal fear of “endings”.

In the video below, Natalie Levy of She’s Independent — a women’s empowerment collective — and Life Mastery Consultant Kevin Carton — who helps people discover and live their soul’s purpose — join me for a conversation on the Life-Death-Life Cycle. This cycle explores how the inevitable endings we experience throughout life are merely doors to new beginnings.

Watch the video and leave us any comments or questions to keep the conversation going! I continue posting videos of virtual chats here on the moveTHRU blog. If you would like to follow the conversation live, follow me and moveTHRU on Instagram or sign-up for the moveTHRU newsletter.

xx – Emily

A Mother’s Day to Remember

As we mentioned in our last community post on grief & loss, talking about death can be difficult. Sometimes friends or acquaintances don’t want to talk about a deceased loved one because they’re afraid of bringing up sad memories or causing more pain for the person grieving. What they don’t understand (and what we are here to clarify), is that the pain never really goes away — it just changes — and talking about our deceased loved ones keeps their memory alive!

Kathleen Place, who lost her mother when she was just 10-years old, dedicated this past Mother’s Day to writing the following post. She explained…

My mother loved to write about her journey with terminal illness in letters & her journal. When she knew that she was very sick, she wrote all five of her children letters that we could open later in life (like graduations and weddings) reminding us that she will always be with us. I decided to write my story on Mother’s Day, and it felt like I was writing to my mother. Dedicating time to remembering her and going through old photos albums was so special. I feel so lucky to be her daughter and even more lucky to have her as my guardian angel.

Kathleen shares the rest of her story with us below!

My mother passed away from a hard-fought battle with ovarian cancer in 1998 when she just was 41 years old. I was 10 years old at the time, so the biggest challenge for me was understanding how permanent loss was. I also found it extremely difficult to share my feelings. None of my friends had lost a parent and I did not want to be looked at differently — I just wanted to fit in. So instead of talking about what I was going through, I stayed silent and made it appear that I was doing better than I really was.

The challenges I have faced since my mothers passing have evolved over time. It took me years to be ok with and figure out how to communicate my emotions. For a long time, I thought if I shared my imperfections, people would feel sorry for me and look at me differently. It wasn’t until my early twenties that I realized I was only hurting myself by internalizing my emotions. I started to go to therapy, which was one of the single best decisions I have ever made. Over time, I was able to open up to friends & family, which started to create deeper and more meaningful relationships.

At the same time, I started to change the way I viewed working out. I used to be a long-distance runner and while it was a great workout, it was never something that I completely enjoyed. After realizing how much I liked building relationships, I wanted to incorporate that into other aspects of my life, including my workouts. I started to mix it up and began taking fitness classes like dance, spin and yoga classes. I was out of my comfort zone, but I LOVED it. I fell in love with the fact that you can get an amazing workout, do something fun and meet new people. It came into my life at exactly the right time and I am forever grateful for the fitness community.

Losing my mom at such a young age affects me in different ways, at different times up to this day! There are times when I would expect to be sad, but I am not. For example, on my wedding day I thought I was going to miss my mom so much, but instead of being sad, I felt her presence and love more than ever. On the other hand, there are times in everyday life that I find myself yearning for her. Like recently I went to a doctor’s appointment and I remember looking at the chair next to me thinking “wow I wish my mom was here”.

Grief is unpredictable and no matter how long it has been since a death it can and will still affect you. Lately, as I am getting closer to the age my mother passed, I have been thinking a lot about my mothers’ perspective and how hard it must have been for her. Her battle and ultimate death has made me appreciate everything that I have and has made me realize the importance of embracing life while we can. 


If you are reading this and have recently endured a loss, please know that we feel you. We share these stories to provide hope and inspiration through living examples — as each person who writes a story here has lived it … and has survived.

A Mother’s Loss

Death can be a difficult subject to talk about. It’s painful, unpleasant, emotional and hard. No one likes unhappy endings or tragic good-byes.

But, when death becomes a part of your life, it’s a hard subject to avoid. Loss changes us. In the beginning it certainly makes life more unpleasant, causes constant emotional turmoil and significant pain, but with time, the grief experience evolves. We find gratitude, meaning and love for our loss. We never “get over it.” We adapt.

We carry our loss.

While others find it difficult or awkward to ask us about our loss (which we excuse because they are just trying to be supportive and polite), we secretly want people to ask us about our special dead person — to help us remember him or honor her life.

Talking about death.

Sharing our stories of loss.

Connecting with others who share our stories.

Helps us heal!

That’s why we’re sharing stories of loss from members of the moveTHRU community so that we can collectively honor our loved ones and move through grief together. Loss can feel lonely, but you are not alone in your grief.

In honor of National Bereaved Mother’s (May 3) and Mother’s Day (May 13), we are sharing a story about a childless mother from our friend Lindsey.

Lindsey lost her unborn baby at 38 weeks. She went through labor and delivery, but when she returned home from the hospital, she didn’t have her baby.

She was a mom with no child to bring home.

Sometimes we forget that loss can occur before life. And that loss is just as painful as losing someone in the flesh. Read Lindsey’s story below to find out how she endured this tragedy to find more meaning in life and eventually got back to enjoying Mother’s Day!


Lindsey and her husband see their baby Everlee for the first and last time.


September 17, 2018 was one of the hardest, but sweetest moments in our life — the moment we saw our daughter Everlee for the first and last time. She was 6lbs 8oz and as our first born, Everlee made us parents.

My pregnancy was uneventful and healthy. We were nervous and excited to become parents and preparing as most parents do — the nursery set up and car seat installed. I was 38 weeks pregnant and thinking we could have her at any moment. Then, one Saturday, I told my husband that I hadn’t felt her kick lately.

During the hospital tour weeks earlier, I vividly remembered the nurse telling us that if we didn’t feel the baby move, to come in. So, we went into the hospital that night. But, we didn’t expect to hear the silence. The nurse looked for the heartbeat and then said she would have the on-call doctor there within minutes. I looked at my husband concerned but thought it would all be ok. When the doctor came in he confirmed that Everlee did not have a heartbeat.

I was in shock. How could I have just been to the doctor and everything checked out perfectly?

Two days later I gave birth to our first child. An autopsy showed that Everlee had an umbilical cord accident. Her cord had “kinked” and acutely cut off her blood and oxygen.

Our bodies are so amazing and the process of growing life is so complex, how could something so small like a “kink” take it all away?

After losing Everlee I was in disbelief. Coming home as a “mom” and recovering like all mom’s do, but not having a baby to hold is something I don’t wish on anyone. For several months I was numb, just going through the motions. We had so much love and support around us, but that didn’t take away the pain. I couldn’t make sense of WHY this would happen. The hardest part for me was trying to overcome the devastation.

Being in some of my old friend groups that all had kids or were expecting children was very difficult — actually suffocating to be around. They didn’t understand the pain I felt and of course couldn’t relate no matter how hard they tried.

The way I overcame my heavy grief was to connect to others who had lost children. I found comfort relating to others who had walked the same hard road. I also MOVED my body. It was my therapy and the only way to clear my mind. I had to start off by just walking, but then I progressed into yoga, cycle and running. I could feel the weight of the grief lift as I exercised. As I MOVED I felt like I could start to take on the day.

I met Emily through Rush Cycle and was able to attend the moveTHRU workouts. This helped me see there were others out there needing movement to express all the emotions that come with grief and loss. It was like a great therapy session with the added benefit of exercise.

The loss of my daughter impacts me every day. When people want me to overcome grief or “move on” I know she will always be with me! I am a different person because of her. I think about her every day.

So much of her story has so much light!

I have been able to see how precious life is.

I have been able to relate to others on a deeper level who grieve.

I have become more spiritual and able put things in perspective.

Everlee has taught me so much. She’s given me purpose, strength, the ability to be vulnerable and helped me grow.

Although some days are easier than others, I wish that I had her here and I could hold her close. I wish that I could experience all the “first” parent moments with her and watch her grow up into a beautiful girl inside and out. I feel like I’ve lost out on these moments with her.

Mother’s Day always brings out these “what if’s”. My arms ache more on Mother’s Day wishing I could have her — a living child — here. But in the end, she has taught me so much and given me so many gifts. I am forever grateful for her. She has allowed me to celebrate Mother’s Day…even though it may not look like it on the outside.