Quarterly Reflections / Q2 2025

One of my intentions for the year is to pause and reflect on each quarter—not only on Pure Luxe Apothecary, but on life as a whole. Why? Because I’ve learned that looking back can offer valuable perspective, grounding, and a re-orientation of sorts for the path ahead.

Research supports the benefits of this kind of intentional reflection—for our health, our focus, and our sense of meaning.

My hope is that these notes offer space to take stock—of what’s working, what might need a shift, and what truly matters. And maybe they’ll inspire you to pause and reflect, too.

Life, in All Its Complexity

There was so much to celebrate this spring: loved ones’ birthdays, an amazing Women’s Summit, energizing makers markets, meeting customers and friends, hearing Robin Wall Kimmerer speak here in Iowa City, personal and professional development courses, and the return of green life in my gardens (the native plantings are thriving this year, yay!).

But behind the scenes, April, May, and June were primarily shaped by my mom’s declining health, a month spent at The Bird House hospice house, and her passing on June 10th - just days after her 82nd birthday.

This quarter, my priorities shifted—pivot!—and my days were filled with caregiving, hospice support, difficult conversations, grief, and the emotionally complex task of sorting through mom’s lifetime of belongings.

This was my first front-row experience with death. I’ve lost grandparents, extended family, and a few friends—but this was different. My sister and I were present each day, co-responsible for our mom’s care and decisions (I’m so grateful we had each other). It was intimate and heartbreaking. Exhausting, sometimes funny, frustrating, and a huge learning experience.

From my journal, June 11th:

“It’s been an indescribable week—and month—and several years. Will be a lot to process. I’m at peace with her passing, but also sad about both the heartbreak and the beauty of life. And the exhaustion. And the heavy emotional-lifting of this chapter.”

I wrote again the next day:

“Witnessing the dying process was eye-opening, heartbreaking at times, and also a gift. A gift of being present to the realities of being human. And a gift of community. The people I met at The Bird House and Hospice were the gifts. To learn from them was the biggest blessing - their humanity, their heart, and their simplest gestures of care.”

“Feeling tender and tired. Feeling deep grief for the pain we all carry. But also immense joy and gratitude that comes from love, care, connection, family, friends, community, and even strangers.”

Death and dying bring the whole emotional spectrum to the surface. The experience stretched me, challenged me, and stirred up a lot to reflect on—especially around the layers of a complicated relationship, cultural norms, and expectations. I felt cracked wide open every day. But the beauty, I learned, came from holding space for all of it—every feeling, every contradiction.

What Helped?

If you find yourself caring for a loved one near the end of life, here are a few things that helped me—and might help you, too.

Support from others

This is everything. Family, friends, a hospice team, a hospice house, a local death doula—whoever you can invite into your circle. I’m so grateful for the wisdom and steadiness of hospice nurses, aides, social workers, chaplain, and volunteers. The support system matters for your loved one’s wellbeing—and for yours. 

Education and perspective

One of the most helpful resources I found was the book Briefly Perfectly Human by Alua Arthur, a death doula. It’s honest, funny, deeply insightful, and helped me prepare for what was ahead. She also has a TED Talk here and several insightful podcast interviews, if you're curious to hear more. 

It was also helpful to find and follow end-of-life educators and hospice nurses online— hearing from others about the experieces and stages of dying can make it feel far less unknown and scary. (@hospicenursejulie is a good one to start with.)

Simple comforts

Hospice caregivers are so good at recommending practical comforts—how to position someone, which pillows to use, what kinds of cups and straws work best. But there were a few extras from Pure Luxe Apothecary that we used with my mom that felt especially helpful—and personal:

• Sea Berry Lip Oil – Dry, cracked lips are common for hospice patients, from both medications and mouth breathing. Applying this for her gave her comfort and gave us a tangible way to care for her gently.

• Super Soothe Body Butter – Moisturize hands and feet, or apply more broadly after bed-baths. Unscented, gentle, and healing. It offered connection and calm when she was restless, and it helped ease her fragile, dry skin. 

• Room & Mood Mists – These helped shift the emotional atmosphere and refresh the air when things felt heavy. Because scent is so connected to emotion, this was a small but meaningful support.

Fuel, rest, and movement

During the most intense weeks, non-essentials of daily life fell away. What remained were trying to eat well, prioritizing sleep, and walking outside whenever possible. I kept protein and healthy snacks with me at all times; when I’m hangry I’m of no use to anyone! My go-tos were Chomps Beef Sticks (sea salt), Epic Bars (bacon + bison), Simple Mills crackers, and kombucha.

Also: iced chai with coconut milk. Because sometimes, the thing that helps is just… iced caffeine.

Letting go of “right”

There’s no one “right” way to do any of this. Every person’s death is different. Being around others at the hospice house gave us glimpses into many different journeys. What helped was staying heart-centered, curious, and open to learning from all of it.

Carrying It Forward

Even in the midst of endings, spring still offered its usual themes: growth, new life, new chapters.

Witnessing the end of a life impacted me in ways I’m still processing. I’m carrying forward so many lessons—about love, presence, grief, and the small, steady things that support us through hard seasons.

This experience - and the space to reflect on it - also helped clarify a few things I want to remember moving forward:

• What’s working: Staying grounded in nature, leaning on community, and finding comfort in small rituals. Letting care—of self and others—remain at the heart of everything.

• What might need a shift: Making more room for rest and flexibility. Releasing the need to do or be everything at once. Allowing priorities to evolve with the season.

• What really matters: Connection. Presence. Gentleness. Creating moments of meaning, even when life feels uncertain or heavy.

Your Turn!

Whether your Q2 was joyful, challenging, or somewhere in between, I hope you’re finding small ways to tend to your heart and growth. If you’re walking through something difficult right now, I hope you know you’re not alone. Find your team. And be gentle with yourself. 🌿

A few prompts you might consider in a quiet moment:

• What felt heavy for you in the last few months? And what felt light and bright?

• What small things or practices brought you comfort or peace?

• What takeaways do you want to carry forward into the next months?
  
  

In my gardens: Midwest prairie natives and heirloom perennials

Gatherings, celebrations, inspiration, and sweet moments

Remembering my mom: 82 years of Jean Louise 💜

Markets and making 🥰 

Little moments of beauty: Open Gardens, meaningful stones, June skies, and art by @tijanadraws

This is the second in a series of quarterly reflections I’ll be sharing here and with my email community. My hope is that it becomes a soft place to pause—a seasonal check-in to take stock, share a little of what’s been meaningful behind the scenes, and offer something grounding, thoughtful, or simply human for your own path, too.

Thank you for being here! 
Love & gratitude,