(Written in Late Summer, Early Fall 2025)

Let me tell you a little about the journey that brought me to this moment.

2017 and years leading up to my beloved husband, Robert’s, death were tough. Probably the most difficult love I’ve ever existed in. I knew he was sick, but he never admitted it, never allowed people to help, and always thought his health was in his control. It turned out he was wrong. Those last years were filled with moments of anticipatory grief, knowing what was coming, not being able to help, and never knowing exactly when. 

2018 was just as hard. In addition to grieving all the ways Robert was no longer in my life, my sister Rissa suffered her own health crisis. Three surgeries later she was still with us. A bit quieter than usual, but still thankfully, oozing Rissaness. The grief of her health issues, on top of Robert’s death was difficult. I was also working on my PhD and in a full time job. That year we also sold my parents house and my house and we moved into a new house together, a dream we’d talked about for years. I flowed in an out of states of anger, depression and acceptance all year.

2019 was filled with doctoral classes, grief, adjustments at work and home. Then in 2020 COVID arrived in our lives with its abundant changes and worries. In 2021, Dad’s health started to show signs of deteriorating and my work on my dissertation intensified. 

In May of 2022 I graduated with my PhD.  In October Dad died, at home, while I was playing the first movement of the Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven.  

2023 was filled with changes, a new boss and new ways of doing things at work and at home. Mom and I were navigating our first year without Dad physically present, without his unique knowledge and expertise, without his laughter, his easy leaning into joyful and proud tears, and his love.

In April 2024 I started a new position in my department that was my dream job and it did not go as hoped. It turned out to be a perfect storm of impossible expectations with reduced staff.  In spite of the storm, or maybe because of it, our small but passionate team was able to design and implement new helpful processes that resulted in more efficient and effective work. Although I would never choose to repeat the year, I am thankful and proud that we all became stronger, wiser, and more confident both personally and professionally.

In May 2025 and I started in a new job in the same department doing things I was familiar with. This new position is less stress-filled and allows me to focus on things I enjoy and people I love to be around. 

I took a road trip with Rissa in July. It was a fabulous trip filled with surprise conversations, deep insights, and lots of wackiness. Somewhere between Nashville and Albuquerque my soul quietly healed. There was no fanfare. There wasn’t even a whispered hint it was happening. I just got home on a Saturday, rested on Sunday, and when I went back to work on Monday I was in good post trip, “been good to get away” spirits. A week later I realized that I was dealing with stresses and joys in a way that made me say to myself, “I remember you.”  

This part of me has taken her time emerging from the cocoon she was in. When she arrived, she found the rest of me significantly different than who I was when she quietly left.  She didn’t care and stepped in to being back with a feeling of constant joy, a playfulness, a willingness to be deep and vulnerable without worry. She brought back the insightful, intuitive way I often connect random ideas. She strengthened my energy for listening empathetically. And she brought delight in thinking creatively. I didn’t know how much I missed these aspects of myself, or how buried they’d become until the cocoon opened and these important aspects of myself emerged, not only unscathed, but stronger.