We're working toward a tree farm where people can honor loved ones, dedicate trees, and help create a living legacy. Discover the stories behind the vision and ways to support the dream.
Ten years since I lost Dawne. This reimagined sunset brings us together again, even if only in a picture. I miss her smile, the way we held each other, and the life we shared. A decade has passed, but some love never fades. She will always be part of who I am.
Ten years since I lost Dawne. This reimagined picture of us hiding behind our coffee mugs makes me think of the laughter we shared over the smallest things. I miss those quiet, ordinary moments more than words can say. Life has moved forward, but my love for her remains.
Ten years since I lost Dawne. Nine reimagined moments of us, but the love behind them was real. The laughter, the little kisses, coffee together, the sunsets. I miss those ordinary moments most. A decade has passed, and she is still part of every chapter of my life.
Dresden, five years ago. Joey and I leaned in across a wooden table for this picture. I remember the easy smiles and the feeling of having nowhere else to be. Sometimes the simplest moments become the memories I hold onto most.
Five years ago in Dresden, Joey and I leaned in for this picture. I love how one photograph can bring back a whole feeling: the warmth, the closeness, and the simple joy of being together. Some memories always make me smile.
Ten years since I lost Dawne. This reimagined moment of us sharing coffee reminds me of what I miss most. Her smile, the comfort of being close, and the simple joy of being together. Life has changed in ways I never imagined, but the love I carry for her has never faded.
Ten years since I lost Dawne. This image is reimagined, but the love behind it is real. I remember her smile, the comfort of being close, and the ordinary moments that meant everything. A decade later, life keeps moving, and I keep carrying her with me.
Autumn 2026. A portrait of where I am, not just how I look. This year has asked a lot of me. I am still learning, still rebuilding, and still moving forward with gratitude for every new day.
Autumn 2026. My Led Zeppelin shirt, golden light through the trees, and a moment to reflect. This year has tested me, but I am still here, still moving forward, and learning to appreciate the quiet moments along the way.
August 2026. Sunset on the lake, a little rock and roll, and a reminder that life is still full of good moments. This summer tested me, but I am still here, still moving forward, and still grateful for views like this.
August 2026. My Yellowstone spoof. No ranch, no cattle, just a cowboy hat, a leather jacket, and my best John Dutton stare. I may not own a thousand acres, but I can look like I have a few rules about the fence line.
August 2026. In the hospital for my L4-L5 TLIF fusion surgery. Not how I imagined spending the summer, but this chapter reminded me to slow down, accept help, and take recovery one day at a time. Every small step matters.
