[PHOTOSTORY 4: STRUGGLE] Grieving a Lost Family

 By: Skye Taylor 

Lori Kelly stands in her kitchen after waking up, still processing the loss of her daughter a month ago. The grief is a constant presence in her daily life.

 Kelly begins her morning routine by making a cup of coffee. Small tasks like this help her hold onto a sense of normalcy amid her loss.

Coffee pours into a mug that reads, “Excuse me, I have to go be awesome.” “This mug was a gift from my daughter — she always knew how to make me smile,” Kelly says.

 Kelly hangs a red cardinal flag outside her home, a symbol often seen as a sign from a loved one who has passed away. “When I bought it at the store, I could hear my daughter Ivey and my husband Scott saying, ‘Get it,’ like they were right there with me,” she says.

Peace lilies sit on Kelly’s porch, brought home from her daughter Ivey’s celebration of life. “They were on the table at the service — I see them every time I walk outside,” Lori says.

 Kelly pauses on the stairs, wiping away tears before going into her daughter Ivey’s room. Some days, just walking up there takes everything she has.

In her daughter’s room, Kelly holds up a photo of her and Ivey, tears in her eyes. “It’s one of my favorites — we were both laughing so hard that day,” she says. 

Scott Kelly’s urn sits on the dresser in Ivey’s room, a quiet reminder of the loss Kelly has faced. “We moved up to Georgia from Sarasota to be with family when Scott passed,” she says.

Kelly sorts through boxes of Ivey’s clothes laid out on the bed. She pauses over a jacket Ivey wore when she came home from the hospital — a moment she remembers like it was yesterday.

Overwhelmed by emotion, Kelly breaks down with her hand over her mouth as her cousin Kim steps in to comfort her. Grief comes in waves, and some moments are harder than others.

Kelly holds up a decorative skull she brought back from Mexico for Ivey, who loved Day of the Dead.
“She was drawn to it — the colors, the meaning, all of it,” Lori says.

 Kelly holds up one of Ivey’s old cheer uniforms from Sarasota. She remembers Ivey once wore it for Halloween, bringing back a small smile amid the memories.

Ivey’s dreamboards, filled with images of Florida, reflect her hope to one day move back. “She always wanted to return, so I promised I’d keep making dreamboards with her,” Kelly says.

Kelly holds a candle Ivey made at a grief group, with a photo of her father, Scott, attached.
Having lost both her husband and daughter, Lori finds meaning in these small reminders of their love.

A large framed photo of Ivey rests on the floor as Lori prepares to hang it in a memorial corner of her home. “It’s a way to keep her presence alive in the house,” Kelly says.

 Kelly shows where a large outline of the state of Florida will hang in the memorial. Scott and Ivey loved Florida — it was home to many of their happiest memories.

 Kelly carefully takes a tree urn out of its box, planning to plant a tree in her front yard for Ivey.
“It’s a way to help her memory grow and live on,” Kelly says.

A close-up of the paperwork for Ivey’s living tree urn, detailing the planting and care instructions. The documents symbolize a new beginning rooted in remembrance and hope.

A butterfly Tiffany lamp sits in Lori Kelly’s living room, holding some of Ivey’s ashes inside. It serves as a gentle reminder of Ivey’s presence in the home.

 Kelly holds the butterfly lamp, speaking softly to it. “She loved butterflies — they always seemed to brighten her day,” Kelly says.