Here comes the rain...oh, wait, those are tears...Welcome, Fall.

The rain has come to Northern California; with it, the cooler weather has made me melancholy and brought a movement away from the pool-splashing days of summer into the cool crisp days of Fall. This year seems different. I'm trying to understand what's shifted and don't have the words yet to describe it, but it might have something to do with the grief training I've gone through and the completion of my loss with my mom and Evan. Although I have many other completions to do, my mom and Evan have significantly impacted the healing of my broken heart.

Recovery, for me, does not mean forgetting. On the contrary, recovery means remembering fond memories of those I love, thinking about them daily, and healing my heart from the emotional pain loss brings. I can confidently say that my training and understanding of completing my losses have been a game changer for me. Grief is cumulative, and when we realize loss's impact on us, it can transform if we allow ourselves the time and space to unpack it so we can heal. It starts with being fully honest and not criticizing or judging ourselves. It opens the door to being empathic and compassionate for ourselves and others who may be grieving. It also can be heartbreaking when you see people's pain, yet they cannot take the steps towards recovery.

As someone who has been a part of the small group movement, I've seen growth in myself. People's desire to change is genuine until a day and time are announced, and all of a sudden, obstacles start to arise. I recognize them cause I've seen that behavior in myself. I'm grateful that we ask people to commit to 1% of their recovery as part of the program. If you are willing to take a step toward what I can offer, I can bring the elements that can transform and help. I began my pilot group, and we just completed our 4th week of our gatherings. These folks not only have showed up they have begun to do the hard grief work that can lead them to the completion of their losses. I'm fortunate to have a program I can believe in and that I can share with others. I'm grateful for this group of grievers who have allowed me to walk with them as they begin to discover and heal. It is a privilege.

The Bench

Graduation season is upon us with all of the excitement and anticipation that graduation brings. For me, it brings an element of melancholy. I love things that are consistent, the same, and yet with the excitement of the future, I grab hold of the past. This week many will end their high school and college careers and begin their futures — the taste of the bitter along with the sweet. Ten years ago this week Evan and his friends walked across the stage at Vacaville Christian Schools setting their sights on the future and what it holds.

A few weeks ago I came across Evan's senior photos. It was always my intention that my kids be able to express themselves within reason, and senior photos were no different. Even now, as a photographer, I so want people that I photograph to be there authentic self. Evan chose a friend, Looking Glass Photographs, to do his senior photo, and I love that she captured him so well.

While looking through the photo, I wanted to find the place where his photos were taken. As I looked through the pictures and as I drove around Vacaville looking for the place that had "The Bench" I realized that I'd lived in Vacaville 30 year and never really saw a bench like the one in the photos. The place that I was looking for had hills, trees, grassy areas, and a baseball diamond, the universal look of nearly every park in the US. But it had some unique things that I knew if I tried hard enough, I could find them.

Last week on my way home from Sacramento I drove through Davis which would have been a place that Evan would have wanted to do photos. He loved Davis, and so much of our time was spent there as a family. I stopped near the park that seemed the most likely, Slide Hill Park. After getting out and looking around, it became clear to me that was not the location. I continued to drive home and passed Community Park and thought maybe but I was hungry and cold, and I need to look again at the photos.

So today after work I picked up my camera and some items that mean something to me; art pieces, photographs, Evan's ashes, and his original draft of "Ley LInes" his first published poem and set out to find "The Bench." After doing some research, I realized that Community Park was probably my best choice, and as I carried my bags towards the skate park in the distance, I saw it...The Bench. Many things about the park have changed, but the overall layout has remained the same. The tree that was in the background of the photo of Evan on the bench has grown, and as I sat and looked around, I felt this genuine connection to this space that once was occupied by my son. It was surreal. I could see him hang on the fence, laying back in the grass, and thinking deeply about life. I set up my makeshift memorial, and I too pondered many things while sitting there.

So much of my grief journey has been about looking back to go forward. It seems to those watching that something is broken if the past is what you cling too. Well, I am broken, but in my brokenness, I see life through a different lens. Not a better lens just different. Ten years ago, Evan graduated from high school. If he had lived, he would have graduated from college Spring of 2017 and who knows what other things he would have accomplished. I say that because he does not have a future here on Earth. Evan’s future is now walking around in the lives of 5 other people who 931 days ago got the heart, lungs, and kidneys of our boy. Our other son, Alex, is raising awareness about organ donations through hiking the Pacific Crest Trail. I say this with all confidence that we (John and I) couldn't be prouder of our sons. Proud of their sacrifice and proud of their decisions.

https://www.gofundme.com/PCT-NDLM

What will you capture next.....Capture 2017

Mother's Day Note 2016 

Back in May of 2016 my sons, Evan and Alex, took me out for a Mother's Day adventure to a beautiful place in the Piedmont Hills. We walked to the top of this hill and we could see all of the bay area from this place. They had thought through the day and made it all about the things that I love, taking photos, beautiful spaces, food and them. Later that day both of my sons wrote me lovely notes and challenged me that they looked forward to what I would "capture next". 

So I wanted to start my own journey of capturing what I see on a daily and weekly basis so that as I look back over 2017 with the hope of seeing what the world and creation was saying to me. My desire is to share my heart as I view life and the living of life that comes with seeing my world differently then last year. To put my thoughts and feelings in an open place that others will feel a connection to so that they will join me. Being expectant as I will be this year to see what God has for me and hoping that in some small way this will help with my broken heart. 

Fast forward to today,  January 11, 2017...our family has lost our son and brother, Evan....and life as we've known it will forever be changed. I will ALWAYS be the mother of two sons....the ensuing birthdays, Mother's Days, and all other holidays will look and feel different. I am grateful for my son, Alex, who is working and processing this journey along with his parents. Love my sons and I'm thankful for the 25 years, 11 months, and 4 days I had with Evan and for Alex who has been so attentive toward our care as we venture down this road we did not want or desire for our family. Look around...begin to see the world that surrounds you and capture it. 

Be expectant...Be intentional....#Capture2017

These photos taken since January 1, 2017.