Today I miss your arms wrapped around me offering comfort and protection from the sorrows and trials of the world outside the circle of your embrace. What do I do when the very sorrow that I need comfort from is the loss of you and your protective love. The physicalness of you is a lack I feel deeply, along with the many other losses to my heart, mind, and soul. I wish that you could hold me and comfort me to help me get over/through the loss of you. When we first danced together, I knew I wanted to be held in your arms for a long, long time. I got my wish, but I am greedy and would have much more. Your death has left me standing alone on the dance floor with no one to partner me. I don’t know the steps to this solo dance and don’t know the next move to make or where to turn.

We Are Howling

My friend took that quote that I love about love and made it into a glorious picture for me. I am too busy howling, I will let my dad’s words tell you why.


“It is with great sorrow to post of my son in law Alan Hewitt passing yesterday. He was loving father, husband, marine, mountain man and all around great man. His service to this country took a toll on his body leaving him to face many grueling injuries,and recoveries with determination and true grit. At times bound to a wheel chair but only briefly he would rebound with a determination and will that would shame an ordinary mortal. I am thankful for the joy he brought to my daughter Brook in the many years they spent together, and for my grandson Casey. If he instilled in him just half of his gumption Casey will have a solid foundation on which to build.

What war, injury, pain, enemy bullets, bombs, and the elements could not accomplish sweet sleep could. He will be sorely missed.

The following is an article from the news about a mishap that happened a couple of years ago that for me sums up his tremendous fortitude in the face of adversity.

A Prineville hunter who spent four days and three nights lost deep in the woods, injured and starving, got out of the hospital Thursday, thankful to be alive, to his rescuer, to his Marine training — and to the “higher power” that helped him survive the frigid ordeal.”The last day was pretty — it was getting pretty rough,” said Alan Hewitt. “I wasn’t delirious, but all things weren’t kosher, I know that.”It was a harrowing Thanksgiving weekend for Hewitt, in which he questioned at times whether he’d make it out of the woods at all after his week-long hunting trip went awry.Hewitt, 48, said from his bed at St. Charles Medical Center-Bend, shortly before his discharge, what he felt kept him alive after his horse, Vegas, slipped on a log while he was out hunting on Thanksgiving Day in the Ochoco National Forest southeast of Walton Lake.The fall slammed them both into a tree, knocking Hewitt unconscious.When he came to, in nearly two feet of snow and below-freezing temperatures, hours had gone by. He had no food, and a GPS unit that was dying.”I was cold — extremely cold,” Hewitt said. “During the daylight hours, I tried to get as much movement as I could. I hunkered down in a fetal position, and just make nursery rhymes in my head, like, ‘Wiggle your nose, wiggle your toes — wiggle your nose, wiggle your knees,’ to keep your body moving.’Hewitt said he chewed on pine needle seeds, and was able to pop his shoulder back into its socket to keep trudging on, trying to find the forest road where hunters come and go, and maybe a shot at getting home.”Walking during the day, and during the night, I’d make bivys (shelters),” he recalled. “I’d just find a group of trees that were blocking the wind so I could cove the horse in there, so she’d be protected from the wind.:Thanksgiving went by, then Friday too, and Saturday, then nightfall once more. Finally, late Sunday, he made it to the hunting road, and collapsed.Just 45 minutes later, Hewitt believes, hunter Darrell Hover of Bend and his father were driving by, making one last look for elk, when he spotted what looked like a red piece of clothing.They stopped to see what it was.Hover later recalled, “I saw his (Hewitt’s) eyes, and they were just staring straight ahead — looked like he was catatonic. And I realized then that he was hurt, and needed help. I said, ‘You need help?’ And he said, ‘I need help.'”And I said, ‘How long have you been here?’ And I thought he’d say ’15 minutes’ or ’20 minutes.’ But he said, ‘Four days.’Hewitt also remembers that moment, and besides thinking of his wife and five kids, he said he thought: “There’s warmth. There is hope.””I made it. That’s all I could think — I made it.’Now, Hewitt said, “I’m very thankful for Darrell. I’m very thankful for the knowledge I learned in the Marine Corps, and the faith I have in what I call my higher power.”Hewitt was treated at the Bend hospital for dehydration and a dislocated shoulder. His horses were rescued later by the Crook County Sheriff’s Office and are back home in good shape.Hewitt said the frightful experience won’t change his outlook on the wilderness — and won’t stop him from hunting in the future.”

Remembering The Dead

For me, I end up not being a fan of September. It starts out okay. I love school starting up. I enjoy the easing of the temperatures.  I like fall. I like spring and fall best, but spring tends to be a riotous toddler freshly woke from a nap given to tantrums and erratic behavior. It’s just hard to keep up. Fall is more of a gentle easing. The hot, full, carefree party days of summer are through, though remembered with fondness, and we settle in to enjoy the harvest bounty while looking ahead toward the hibernative nature of the rest of the turning of the wheel.

This is good.

But then, you know, things have happened in September to make it less appealing. Personally for me, it’s my mom’s death. The 21st. This year I was hurrying to accomplish some legal things regarding her death before a time limit ran out. This involved me telling the specifics of the situation multiple times to multiple people who then declined to hear any more about it.

In the midst of this, the 11th showed up to pull the shades down a touch lower.


So I put out a question to my internet friends.

What songs do you listen to for cheering up and endurance, you’ll get through this inspiration?

I got lots of great suggestions, but one in particular hit the spot for me that day.

It’s funny how you forget things.

Things that were a very large part of your existence.

I grew up in a family that was very much into the Grateful Dead.

It was very much the background music of my childhood. And often the foreground music as well. We had lots of family gatherings that centered around us all going to their concerts. The fabric of my life is tie-dyed. Really.

So when someone suggested “I Will Survive” by the Grateful Dead (Touch of Grey, actually) I knew immediately that that was one I needed to listen to. And as I did, it reminded me of those times before.  Those times before I grew up and life got complicated. Before I had known much loss and change. Before she was gone. I listened to a few more of their songs* and felt really close to my mom again.

My heart settled and healed a bit.

It feels good to remember the Dead.

*other songs like:

friend of the devil


sugar magnolia

uncle john’s band

Mother. May. I…

She was born in 1956. She would be 56 this year. Just a quick 20 years older than I.

Being as her birthday is the 13th of May, it is always engaged in a dance with the Mother’s Day.

Occasionally they meet up.

Like today.

Last year was the first Mother’s Day since she’d been gone and her birthday was on the Friday before it. I don’t know yet if it’s harder this way or not. I’ll hazard a guess that every year will be hard in its own unique way.

This year, I would have loved for her to see me hanging my BFA Senior Art Show which opened on Thursday. and graduating next month. and, of course, how big and strong and cool her favorite (and only) grandson is growing up to be. These things hurt my heart.

But we will not dwell on them too long, for while they are true, they are not the whole story. The whole story is so much bigger and broader than just that. I talk to her about these things and ask her to help me and watch over things.

and still, that is not the whole story. I am so grateful for the 34 years that we had together even as rough as some of them we were on each other. There are many, too many, people that lose their parent far younger than I did and have an even smaller bank of memories to draw upon to comfort them when they need it. Obviously, I would have liked to have longer with her. I would have loved to have been able to grumble and fumble our relationship into our old ages together. But that is not the cards we’ve been dealt. And you have to play the cards in hand, not the rest of the deck.

I’ve probably rambled on for long enough.

I love you, Mom.


HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY TO YOU! (and the Grandmas)

I miss you.


Six word Fridays: Return

I wish that you could return.

These crumbs left behind? No feast.

For the entire cake, I yearn.

My finger’s burned……

…….The lessons learned.

I wish that you could return.

Healing Susan


This morning a friend on Facebook posted this link.

I went and read this post by the strongest bravest person I’ve seen in quite some time.

If you have a moment to click through and read about her journey and send her some healing thoughts or prayers, you won’t regret it.

For me, the comments are what got me.

When I read it there were 245 comments all saying something very close to the same thing.

Dear Susan, we love you. You are surrounded and bathed in love. You are lifted in healing light. We are thinking of you and sending you love and prayers.

The love I could feel coming off the screen was very nearly palpable, but that wasn’t what got me.

You see, my mother was named Susan.

Reading comment after comment about how Susan is loved and lifted in the light hurts a little, but mostly heals my heart.

Dear Mama,

I love you.

You are surrounded and bathed in love.

You are lifted in healing light.

I am thinking of you and sending you love and prayers.

No more, No less

This day is just a day like any other

even though a year ago I lost my mother.

It doesn’t hurt more today than it did yesterday

Nor, I imagine, will it hurt any less tomorrow.

Marking off days on some tally stick

Doesn’t really do the trick.

It doesn’t ease my sorrow.

It’s been a year.

We’ve made it through.

Survived each and every day of it without you.

Some of them really weren’t that bad

Many were  the worst and hardest we’ve ever had.

I mark this anniversary wearily.

I’m tired of the heartbreak and the heartache; tired of you being gone, really.

I take this moment to acknowledge how far I’ve come

in muddling through this healing process thing.

To acknowledge that I still have miles to go.

One thing I know for sure

is that this one year pales in comparison to our 34.

“If you get there before I do

Don’t give up on me.

I’ll meet when my chores are through

I don’t know how long I’ll be.”


I’ll see you again by Westlife (YouTube)

Love Me by Collin Raye (YouTube)

Gently treat my heart

Gently treat my heart

The seams are worn

and prone to fall apart.

This jagged, gaping tear of mine

has been crudely stitched together by the hands of time.

I am reminded of a year ago and before

When we always the possibility of more.

I tell you I love you, I say it out loud.

You tell me you love me in dreams and in clouds.

It’s impossible and it’s rough

to let that be enough

world, gently treat my heart today

for I have not the heart to play.

Dear Mama

Il Divo Mama on Youtube

This year is a season of painful firsts. Firsts without my mom being in this world. First everything without her somewhere out there- near or far. First Thanksgiving. First Christmas. They were not too bad, but so incredibly stressful and weird that I don’t think it really registered.

First Mother’s Day.

This one is revealing itself to be very challenging.

May, I think, will always be the hardest month. Mother’s Day has always been tangled together with my Mom’s birthday. Sometimes they are even the same day. (Not this year, thankfully. I think.)

Since I became a mother, I was always just a little bit grumpy that I had to not only do Mother’s Day for my mom, but also birthday stuff on or around the same day. I hate the way that sounds, but that’s how it was.

I know that she didn’t like having the two so close together either. Often that meant that she got combined gifts so she felt gypped sometimes. Although, in my defense, since I was a child and heard her say that, I have made sure to always give her two separate gifts so that she wouldn’t lose out on one or the other.

I think we all know how these petty grumbles reveal themselves to be just that when someone is gone. Believe me, if I could I would give up my Mother’s Days entirely to have her back here I would in a heartbeat.


Today I am trying to enjoy my Mother’s Day. But it seems it will always be my mother’s day.  Now more than ever.

I ♥ you Mama.

I miss you.

I hope you are still partying with Grandma. She threw the best parties.

Happy Mother’s Day.


Six Word Friday: For the Record

For the record I am mad.

Because the world does not pause.

Flowers bloom, the sun still rises.

Homework is assigned, laundry and dishes

are still accumulating and need washed.

10 days have gone by now.

my teacher said the word impermanence.

she said the world IS change.

maybe tomorrow that will help me.

today I am mad about this.

my mom died just last week.

groceries, toilet paper, chores and bills…

these are of no concern today.

and yet. Flowers bloom, Sunrises happen.

Glorious sunsets fill up the sky.

we are but grains of sand

would the ocean stop its waves?

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