My Heart is Riding Shotgun

I’ve traveled many times to the beautiful Southwest corner of Utah. Eastern Utah has been so close, and so far, since moving to Denver, but I finally made it there.

I was honored to recently attend an event with a close community who share strong faith and fellowship. The theme was “A Broken Masterpiece.”

I wish. Two words that pop into my head a lot. Surely, it is inevitable after a loved one dies.I just finished reading the book The Women, by Kristin Hannah.

Mount Sniktau, one of my favorite summer hikes, is both stunning and harsh. The first mile up (which is also the last mile down) is a steep, forty-six percent grade with loose rocks and dirt,

I hear people say this a lot. “I just can’t get it right.” When offering words of solace, all of it feels utterly incorrect. If you say, I understand what you are going through...

Acute grief, the early stage of grief, is hard. While that probably goes without saying, let me add that for me, it was also very different from the rest.

In September 2021 I wrote, Can’t You Hear the Whumpfhing. And darn, I am still hearing the whumpfing. Less subtle. More frequent. Increasingly frightening.

Because you are reading this, you already know that I believe in signs -that I am open to them, I am observant of them, and I receive them.

Grief changes over time. It becomes different. I believe you will hear this from most people who have been mourning a significant loss. Even still, it doesn’t really go away.

I say it a lot, and I feel it even more. Nature heals.In 2024, I went on 88 hikes, thirty-seven of which were on trails new to me.

I’m an introvert and typically get most energized by my solo time. Generally, I’m an observer of others.

My mom, Sharon, passed away on November 24, 2023. This is the same date, November 24, on which her own mother died 57 years earlier.