Honoring 35 Years of Light

The Third Birthday Without Tenisa

Today would have been Tenisa’s 35th birthday.

It’s a quiet kind of ache—the kind that lingers in the air long before the date actually arrives. The calendar says June 26th, but the heart has been preparing for this day all month. This is the third birthday we've had to face without her. Three years of lighting candles not on a cake, but in remembrance. Three years of speaking her name in past tense, though her spirit remains so present. Three years of asking ourselves: How do you celebrate a life that isn’t physically here, but still shapes so much of who we are?

Tenisa would’ve turned 35 today. And if you knew her, you can probably picture it—how she would’ve showed up to her own celebration, dressed like joy itself. But never needing to be the center of attention, but somehow becoming the heartbeat of the room anyway. She was not overly loud, but her presence was undeniable. There was a calm grace about her, the kind that drew people in. Her smile, steady and warm, said more than words ever could. She didn’t need to take up space—she filled it with intention, with depth, with life.

What makes this third birthday particularly hard is that it marks a threshold. Thirty-five feels like a milestone year. A year where life is settling, clarity is sharpening, and roots are deepening. You start to make peace with the past and lean into who you're becoming. And so, we can’t help but wonder what 35 would have looked like on her. What dreams she’d be living. What laughter we’d be sharing. What wisdom she’d be dropping.

But grief is never just about what was—it’s also about what should have been.

Still, we honor her. Not just with tears, but with testimonies.

We remember her with stories that still make us laugh. We celebrate her by choosing joy, even on the hard days. We love each other a little better, because she taught us how to show up fully. We keep parts of her alive in the way we carry ourselves—in courage, in compassion, in truth.

Today, we do what we always do: we remember. We cry if we need to. We smile because we were blessed to have her. We speak her name so the world never forgets: Tenisa.

She would have been 35.

She is still loved.

And she will always be missed.

Happy Birthday, Tenisa. 🦋🦋🦋

Your light lives on 💜💜💜

We love you forever!