Tú puedes.
Excerpt
I thought I would be used to grief by now. I was wrong. But in the middle of it… a quiet message remained: Tú puedes.
Intro
March 23, 2026.
While at work, I received a message from my younger daughter. She had gone into early contractions at 4AM and lost her baby boy at 19 weeks. His name would have been Solis Xavier.
It felt like I was struck by lightning.
In that moment, another memory returned—November 20, 2021. My firstborn daughter went through a similar loss. Her baby boy, Kale’l, was just days away from being born.
I suddenly felt helpless. I stayed in my office for about an hour, trying to process everything, while our President and HR sat with me.
The grief didn’t feel new.
But it didn’t feel any lighter either.
Notes from Life & Loss
I thought that after everything I had already experienced—my younger brother, my father, my grandson, my sister-in-law—that I would have learned how to handle grief better.
I thought maybe I would be used to it by now.
I’ve heard people say, “life goes on.”
But I realized something.
I am not wired that way.
Each loss feels just as deep. Just as real.
Even when a coworker passed away earlier this year, I was affected.
Grief doesn’t lessen because it repeats.
It remains… because love remains.
Refining Fire (Ensign 2013 Connection)
In The Refining Fire of Grief, it teaches that grief is not something we outgrow—it is something that refines us.
Grief is not a sign of weakness.
It is the evidence that we love.
And maybe the reason it still hurts…
is because I still do.
Turning Point
The next day, I tried to fight it the only way I knew how.
I went to the basement and pushed through six rounds—slipping, ducking, rolling, throwing nonstop combinations. It was the most I had ever done.
But it didn’t help.
So I went to the temple.
Before I entered, I noticed something in my car—a simple band with yellow letters:
“Tú puedes.”
I didn’t know what it meant at the time.
But I brought it with me.
I placed it in front of the temple.
Everything else felt blurred…
but that message became clear.
You can.
Perspective (Direct Impressions)
“You can.”
“You are still standing.”
“My grace is sufficient.”
Not that the pain was gone…
but that I had strength for this moment.
And in the distance… the temple reminded me where to look.
On the way, I realized something.
The road doesn’t stop for grief.
It keeps going.
And in the distance… the temple remains.
Not always close.
But always there.
Practice (today, not someday)
Go anyway.
Pray anyway.
Show up anyway.
Even when your heart is heavy.
Because that is where strength is given.
Final Reflection
I thought I would be used to this by now.
I’m not.
And maybe that’s not something to fix.
Maybe that’s something to understand.
If this is the refining fire…
then I will endure it.
Because love is still worth it.
And in the middle of it all…
Tú puedes.
Not lost. Not gone.
Just beyond my reach… for now.
Pocket I’m Keeping
Tú puedes.
What I Hear Now (direct quotes)
“My grace is sufficient for thee.”
“I will not leave you comfortless.”
“Be still, and know that I am God.”
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