Since her husband, Stephen “tWitch” Boss, died by suicide in December 2022 at age 40, Allison Holker has endured an emotional tsunami.
Early on, she felt grief so deep her bones ached. Shortly after came an unbridled rage.
“The last two years I was hit with blow after blow after blow,” Holker, 36, tells PEOPLE exclusively in this week’s cover story, on newsstands Friday. “I have been trying to release all this anger, and I’m learning there’s always going to be a moment when I get really sad or really angry or get really confused.”
John Russo
In her vulnerable new memoir, This Far: My Story of Love, Loss, and Embracing the Light (out Feb. 4), Holker — who’s opening up for the first time about the painful demons she discovered her late husband was facing in his final days — details falling for the charismatic Montgomery, Ala., native after her own difficult childhood, grappling with feelings of betrayal after his death and finding purpose in helping others who are struggling silently.
Harper Select
“It really hurts me that Stephen held everything in for as long as he did,” says Holker, who remains protective of her late husband’s memory. “He was always so strong for everyone.”
After his death, Holker started the Move With Kindness Foundation and has teamed up with the National Alliance on Mental Illness in his honor to support mental health initiatives. She wants everyone — especially their daughters Weslie, 16 (her child from a previous relationship), and Zaia, 5, and son Maddox, 8 — to feel safe opening up about their vulnerabilities.
“It’s important for me to share the truth to make things easier for someone else,” she says. “I want someone that maybe is struggling with their own mental health and having questions of if they want to take themselves to the other side — don’t do it because you’re going to affect way more people than you ever knew. If you just ask for help, someone could help you find the light again.”
Holker and her kids began intense therapy in 2023, and she admits it’s only recently that she’s learned “it’s okay to not be okay.”
“When Stephen started being at his lowest, he would try to open up a little bit about things, [but] he was very careful about his wording. I wish he would’ve felt comfortable asking for help, wanted to go to therapy and talk to his friends or loved ones,” she says.
“I don’t want to fall into the same triggers Stephen did. For the last two years, I felt like I wanted to get my family through everything, and I realized I haven’t taken a moment to also heal myself,” Holker continues. “I’m trying to allow [help] now in my life. Let a therapist help me, let my daughter help me, let my friends help me. I’m struggling a little bit with it still, but I’m putting my best step forward.”
Many of her core memories with Boss now feel clouded by trauma, but she’s worked hard to compartmentalize. “I need to remember that we still shared such a great love, and he was such a great dad,” she says. “I don’t want every memory to turn into something so sad or something I’m so mad at.”
Courtesy Allison Holker
She’s also started to accept she will never have all the answers. “I’m not going to have closure. My kids aren’t going to have closure. That’s still something I’m still trying to understand myself, which is why therapy is wonderful,” she says.
Her daughter, Weslie, is now around the same age as Holker was when she started pursuing her dance career. “The No. 1 thing I want to do for Weslie is give her the strength to handle anything that she is facing,” says Holker, who grew up poor and faced intense bullying while working as a janitor at a dance studio in her teenage years.
“That’s really what I want for my kids. Just keep taking steps forward. Things are going to come hit you, and that’s okay,” she says.
A year ago they settled into a new house — which feels like a fresh start.
“I was starting to feel so heavy carrying all these emotions and memories in my last home. It was a big moment for our family to decide together that we were going to move forward,” she says. “I knew that we needed lighter energy around us, and when we got here everyone felt like they could take a fresh breath for the first time in a really long time.”
While Holker — who became a judge on So You Think You Can Dance in early 2024 and plans to launch a podcast with Weslie this year — knows better than most that grief isn’t linear, recently she has felt the tidal wave begin to recede.
“For the first time in a really long time, I’ve found a peace that I was searching for,” she says.
Holker went public with a new boyfriend, tech CEO Adam Edmunds, in September, and she’s looking forward to her future.
“I’m going to be finding the best version of who I am. Not the best version of who I was with Stephen, or before him — but who I am now as an individual,” she says. “I know I can do it.”
If you or someone you know is considering suicide, contact the 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline by dialing 988, or text “STRENGTH” to the Crisis Text Line at 741741.
This Far: My Story of Love, Loss, and Embracing the Light by Allison Holker comes out Feb. 4 from Harper Select and is available for preorder now, wherever books are sold.
