About
his work was not learned in a classroom. It was lived.
I grew up in a funeral home. Long before I understood systems, policies, or professional roles, I watched my father sit with families in their most vulnerable moments. There were no scripts—only presence, dignity, and quiet understanding. I learned that grief does not need to be fixed. It needs to be held.
Next door was a home for adults with special needs. They weren’t just neighbors to me—they were family. I saw joy, frustration, resilience, and difference up close. I also saw how easily people who are “different” become invisible—not because others don’t care, but because they don’t know how to understand.
I learned early that being “different” often meant being forgotten. Families didn’t stay away because they lacked love or commitment—they stayed away because they lacked language. Schools, like many systems, operate on logic and compliance. But grief, disability, and loss live in the human space between policies. White Harbor exists to bridge that gap.
White Harbor Consulting was created to give schools and families what I saw was missing—language for grief, frameworks for compassion, and systems that acknowledge the full human experience. This work is about building environments where no one is forgotten simply because their experience is difficult to name.