(Written early October 2025)

One of the ways I strengthen my HERO (hope, efficacy, resiliency, and optimism) is by being open to moments of remembering. 

Morna, an Old Norse word, became, over time, our word “mourn.” Morna’s Proto-Indo-European  root word meant “to remember.” In mourning the death of Robert and Dad and the loss of their daily physical presence, I remember them. Each time I remember, my sense of self (efficacy), my hope for the future with their continuing connectedness, and my optimism for life is strengthened. There is sadness in remembering, and there is joy too. 

Today, Mom, my sister, Rissa, our cousin, Kimber, and my best friend, Kathryn, went to the Rio Grande Arts and Crafts Festival. I wasn’t sure, all week, if Mom was going to go. Earlier in the week, she felt going in a wheelchair was “in the way” of others’ experiences. We quickly talked her out of that. Then she had a blot clot burst in her eye – another source of uncomfortability. Last night she told me she was really tired. I understood. We’ve had a super fun week with Kimber in town, but it means Mom has done more “out and about” adventures than a typical week. 

As I went to bed, I talked with Dad. He, ever the calm one, reminded me that Mom didn’t have to go and that I should just roll with whatever happened. I sensed him say with his kind, sneaky smile and a twinkle in his eye, “Let her sleep and see how she is in the morning.”

This morning, Mom woke up with good energy. Thanks, Dad (said with the kindest, sneakiest, smile)!  After talking briefly, we decided that if we took the wheelchair, Mom could go to the Festival.  

During the Festival, Mom had the opportunity to talk with several artists about their work. As an artist herself, she can talk at a deeper level than most. It was fun to watch her engage. 

In 2018, at the same Festival, I bought two pig cards from Kandy Tate. Robert loved pigs. He was born in the year of the pig. I’ve had the two I bought less than a year after Robert died, framed and displayed in my bathroom ever since. A contemplative, old-soul pig (Robert) and a pig happily offering a gift of a sunflower (me). They have been a daily reminder of our life together and of our love. 

Robert’s favorite color was green, and mine is purple. Purple and green together always catch my eye. Today, the same artist had a female pig dancing in a purple tutu with a green background. It was the perfect depiction of the sense I have of myself right now, thriving again after many years of, well . . .  not. The little pig-erina will hang in my office as a reminder that I can choose to dance in the midst of life’s griefs, challenges, and joys.

At lunch, the Syd Masters Duo was playing on stage. They played a bunch of songs Dad and Kimber’s Dad, my uncle Marty, loved. Songs sung by Marty Robbins, Johnny Cash, John Denver, and others. They did a few of their own too. We all sang, and laughed, and ate, and told stories. 

The whole morning was a gift of time to “mourn” (remember) together in the midst of sharing life with one another. Mourning and enjoying life are not either/or experiences. At least they don’t have to be. Remembering can be energizing. Thanks, Dad, Robert, and Marty, for gifting us with things that helped us remember you, your love, and your joy today.