When Mahjong Found Me: A Story of Love, Loss, and New Beginnings

When mahjong found me.

Sometimes, the things that help us heal arrive when we least expect them.

There are moments in life that change us forever. Sometimes, in the middle of heartbreak, something unexpected finds its way into our lives. We may not understand its significance at the time, but looking back, we realize it was exactly what we needed.

For me, that something was mahjong.

But to understand how my love for this beautiful game began, I first have to tell you about Willow.

My Sweet Willow

Willow was my beautiful Cane Corso, and at just five years old, she should have had so much life ahead of her.

What started as something seemingly minor quickly became every pet owner’s worst nightmare.

Willow had been experiencing diarrhea and wasn’t interested in eating. Our veterinarian initially suspected she had swallowed a foreign object. Because she was such a large breed, we were told there was a good chance it would pass naturally. She was given fluids and anti-nausea medication, and we went home hopeful that she would be feeling better soon.

Over the next week, things seemed to improve. Willow started eating normally again, but we never saw any evidence that she had passed a foreign object.

Then, one day, she stopped wanting to eat.

Something just didn’t feel right.

That evening, I took her to the emergency veterinarian. This time, we were told something much more serious was happening. There was no foreign object.

We were referred to Michigan State University’s Veterinary Medical Center for further testing.

And that was where we received the devastating diagnosis.

Willow had T-cell lymphoma.

Cancer.

It’s a word no pet owner ever wants to hear, especially when your dog is only five years old.

We decided to try L-asparaginase (Elspar) chemotherapy, hoping it would give us a little more time together. We understood that we weren’t looking at a cure. We were simply trying to hold on to every precious moment we could.

One more morning together.

One more chance to love on her.

A little more time to prepare ourselves for a goodbye we weren’t ready to say.

Unfortunately, just three weeks later, the cancer returned.

And I had to say goodbye to my sweet Willow far sooner than I ever imagined.

The Day Everything Changed

Months before Willow ever became sick, I had ordered my very first mahjong tile set.

It was the Hill House mahjong set from Williams Sonoma, and it had been on backorder for months.

I had been patiently waiting for it to arrive, completely unaware of how much my life was about to change—or how important those little tiles would eventually become.

Then, on the very day I had to say goodbye to Willow, my mahjong set finally arrived.

Of all the days it could have been delivered, it arrived on that one.

I remember thinking how strange the timing was. Something I had ordered months earlier, long before cancer entered our lives, showed up on one of the most heartbreaking days I had ever experienced.

I wasn’t in the mood to celebrate a delivery.

I was grieving the loss of my beautiful girl.

But in the days that followed, I found myself reaching for those tiles.

I began learning everything I could about American mahjong.

I watched tutorials, studied the rules, practiced the Charleston, and tried to make sense of all the different hands.

Before I knew it, hours would pass.

For those few hours, my mind wasn’t consumed with Willow’s diagnosis, chemotherapy, or the painful memories of saying goodbye.

I was focused on learning something new.

Mahjong gave my grieving heart a little room to breathe.

And although I didn’t realize it then, something that had been sitting on backorder for months would become one of the things that helped me through one of the hardest chapters of my life.

I ordered those tiles before I knew I was going to lose Willow. They arrived the day I lost her. And somehow, they helped me begin finding my way forward.

Finding Joy Again

Grief is a funny thing. It doesn’t follow a schedule, and it certainly doesn’t disappear because you’ve found something new to occupy your time.

I still missed Willow terribly.

I still do.

But mahjong gave me moments of happiness during a time when happiness felt very far away.

What started as a simple distraction slowly became something I genuinely loved.

I fell in love with the strategy, the challenge, the beautiful tiles, and the social connection that comes with gathering around a table.

There was something comforting about it all.

The sound of the tiles shuffling.

The anticipation of drawing the perfect tile.

The laughter around the table.

The feeling of being completely present, even if only for a couple of hours.

Mahjong didn’t take away my sadness, but it reminded me that it was okay to experience joy again.

And I think that’s something we sometimes forget when we’re grieving.

Finding happiness again doesn’t mean we’ve forgotten the ones we’ve lost.

It simply means we’re learning how to carry their love with us as we move forward.

From Heartbreak to The Nicoli Table

As my love for mahjong grew, so did my fascination with everything surrounding the game.

The tiles, the colors, the accessories, the tablescapes, and the beautiful ways people were bringing friends together to play.

I found myself wanting to create something of my own.

Something thoughtful.

Something beautiful.

Something that brought together my love of design, entertaining, and mahjong.

And slowly, the idea for The Nicoli Table began to take shape.

What began as a way to escape the sadness of losing Willow became the inspiration for an entirely new chapter of my life.

I never could have imagined that the arrival of one mahjong set, on one of the hardest days of my life, would eventually lead me here.

But perhaps that’s what makes this journey so meaningful.

A Little Piece of Willow

As I began dreaming up my own mahjong collections, I knew I wanted them to be more than just beautiful designs.

I wanted them to tell stories.

I wanted them to have meaning.

And I wanted to find a way to honor the little souls who have left such big footprints on my heart.

Willow will always be part of my story, and because of that, she’ll always be part of The Nicoli Table.

There’s a very special collection in the works that carries her name and a little piece of my heart.

I’ll be sharing more about it when the time is right.

For now, I simply wanted to share this journey.

Because behind the beautiful tiles, the carefully chosen colors, and the excitement of bringing my first collections to life, there is a story of love, loss, and finding joy again.

And it all started with a dog named Willow.

Forever five. Forever loved. Forever part of my story.

With love,

Nicole ♡

The Nicoli Table