How the Hive Started
Grief is a bitch.
But it’s also an opportunity.
I’ve always believed in the laws of the universe, in science, in healing, in connection — always have. But there was a time when I felt completely disconnected and lost, saved only by my children and my work — in that order.
My kids would probably tell you I’m a workaholic, and maybe they’re right — but only from the lens of survival. I wanted more for them. I worked hard to give them the opportunities I had to fight and work extremely hard to earn. I climbed. I achieved. I felt unstoppable — like the path ahead was clear.
And then my dad got sick.
I thought I could help him. My entire career centered around health and wellness — trauma, disease, recovery — I was a problem solver by nature. So, I took it on like another challenge to fix. And for a while, I did. He beat the odds. His heart and lungs healed, his cancer went into remission. We made it.
Until we didn’t.
One day, he was just… gone. No warning. No final goodbye. And in that instant, everything that made sense no longer did.
Grief is the loneliest place a person can be. It’s like being underwater — eyes wide open, lungs still, faintly hearing the muffled sounds of people above trying to reach you (if you’re lucky).
I spent months in bed. Quit my job. Moved. Sat in isolation.
Then one day, I realized I had to get up — not for me, but for my grown kids. I needed to find gratitude again. Eat something green. Set a goal. So, I started small.
Grateful for: my kids and my work — check.
Eat broccoli — check. check.
Take a shower — check, check, check.
Day after day. Month after month. Through the fall. Through the winter. Until by spring, a little light started to break through and then back into isolation.
It was during COVID — a strange, quiet time when the world paused, and I did too. I sat in a dimly lit room with a pen, a piece of paper, and a deck of cards, just shuffling until I could write something — anything — down. I needed to remember who I was. What I’d overcome. To find my inner “boss bitch.” (The name of the first cocktail I ever made as a gift to mail out to friends.)
I started reading quotes from Mark Twain and other greats — finding humor in their blunt wisdom. I pictured Twain by the fire, bourbon in hand, laughing at life. Maybe that’s what I missed most about my dad — not the bourbon, but the wit.
The funny thing about rock bottom? There’s only one way to go — up.
So, I did something different. I started making a nightly ritual: take a bath, make a cocktail or a mocktail, and write. Slowly, I started reconnecting — with myself, with humor, with hope.
Journaling When Lost
Journaling when lost felt like common sense. Everyone says, “find your purpose,” like it’s a lost set of keys you just have to keep searching for.
I think more like Carrie Bradshaw — identify something that annoys the hell out of you, light a candle, hold your words to paper (or, in our case, your laptop), and analyze what you’re questioning without losing the desire for what you hope for most.
The truth is, the only thing worse than grief is society’s version of a woman past her youth. But even that, I’ve learned, is an opportunity.
The beauty of getting older is getting wiser — choosing to take action, not putting up with BS, and becoming. Authenticity is the starting point of finding your tribe — and genuinely connecting with others who value the same things you do.
From Candles to Cocktails to Community
The Hive started small — as Honey & Fetch Candles, a nod to my father, a former arson investigator and firefighter. I had made a promise to light up the world with candles so he’d be drawn to blow them out, one by one, just like he always did every time I lit a candle (seriously every time).
As I healed, I leaned into the idea that life itself is a gift — and it should be celebrated.
In the back of my mind was the little girl who planned weddings, sold flowers, played store for hours, and mixed Shirley Temples behind the family room bar (which, for the record, turned out to be real alcohol that had my sister and me laughing and tripping all over the place at eight years old — another story—I am better at identify what's in the bottle today).
Hive Craft Cocktails was born from those same desires — to celebrate, to laugh, to find joy again. (And yes, often while enjoing zero-proof as well.)
Then came the Hive Market, a natural extension of it all. The word hive literally means to gather, and that’s what I wanted to create — a space that brings people together, filled with creativity, laughter, and local love.
Breaking the Cages
One friend I’ve always had is my sister — one of the truest, most authentic relationships I know. It’s funny — we look alike but somehow couldn’t appear more different. Where I’m dark, she’s light. Our personalities mirror that too — similar in some ways, polar opposites in others. But at our core, we’re the same: strong, a little defiant, and always ready to find our own way.
When COVID hit, we handled it the same way — like two caged birds breaking free while the world stood still. While everyone else stayed locked inside, we were out exploring, chasing moments of normal, trying to feel alive again.
One night, she convinced me to go to a little neighborhood bar — the kind of place I would never have gone unless forced. It took her multiple attempts and some good-natured judgment, but she won. That night, I met Ken.
If it weren’t for her persistence, I never would have gone. I never would have met him. And now, here we are — on this journey together, building the Hive, one chapter, one laugh, and one pour at a time.
The Next Chapter
While I see myself as an executive by day, a healer, wedding planner, mixologist, florist, and gift shop owner in my spare time— I’m most proud of being a creator of experiences and building something new from the ground up. And I’m endlessly grateful that Ken is on this journey with me.
The next chapter of the Hive includes something I’ve dreamed of since the beginning: a tasting room — a place where Hive Craft Cocktails and good conversations happen side by side, where laughter fills the space, and pour decisions are, once again, perfected.
Be on the lookout as we plan the final element of the Hive — a space built to expand community, connection, and celebration.
I hope to continue meeting more people, creating more connections, and expanding the goals I’ve set as I build this next chapter.
Come along. Connect. See what’s next.
Because gifting is serious business — but connection is at the heart of it all.
Cheers! xoxo
Written by Melissa Thornton, Founder & Chief Celebrator of the Hive Market, where every candle lit, cocktail poured, event planned, and connection made is a reminder that life — no matter how it begins or leads you — is meant to be celebrated.