I didn't reclaim joy by trying to feel better or by forcing optimism into a season that didn't deserve it. Grief doesn't work that way. Life kept moving, responsibilities stayed intact, and there wasn't space to pause everything just because something hurt. Joy showed up quietly and without permission. It was unplanned laughter. Music turned up too loud in the car. Moments with my kids that pulled me fully into the present without asking me to explain myself first. I didn't chase joy. I let it sit next to the grief when it appeared and trusted that both could exist at the same time. Grief narrowed my tolerance for nonsense and sharpened my appreciation for what actually matters. Joy was never a destination. It became oxygen I didn't realize I needed most when things were heaviest.