When we first arrived at Wade’s House, I didn’t know what I was hoping for. Peace? Distraction? Relief? After losing our daughter, every place we went felt too loud, too cheerful, or too hollow.
But Wade’s House felt different from the moment we opened the door. The sound of waves outside. The soft color palette. The handmade quilt on the bed. Someone had thought about us — about people like us — and built a space we didn’t know we needed.
It wasn’t just a house. It was an invitation to breathe again.
