Going Back to Go Forward

October has been a whirlwind of emotions, filled with celebrations and a breathtaking trip to experience the fall colors. In addition, I found myself diving back into facilitating Grief Recovery, both with an in-person group and through several one-on-one sessions via Zoom. Each time I begin these groups, I feel my heart opening up to the reality that I still have work to do surrounding grief and loss. It’s a universal experience; we’re all grievers in our own right, even if we haven't fully acknowledged it.

As I help others navigate their grief journeys, I realize I must examine myself more deeply. Reflecting on this, I am acutely aware that life moves on relentlessly. I'm pushed forward, yet I can't help but look back and address those unfinished emotional pieces. We all experience a shared journey, and it’s perfectly okay to embrace that healing is a continual process that takes time.

During my recent visit to New York, I had the chance to return to my old neighborhood, which I had not seen in over 50 years. Having moved away in 1971, I was struck by how much had changed; in many ways, I barely recognized it. This return also confronted me with a part of myself that I had neglected or tried to silence, reminding me of the importance of embracing every aspect of who we are as we navigate our lives.

So I enter into November having all the feels as it is particularly poignant for me, as I acknowledge that this week marks the eighth anniversary of Evan’s accident and his incredible act of giving his organs to save several lives. I’m so proud of Evan for his sacrifice. That thought resonates profoundly in my heart, especially as I contemplate my own possible need for a kidney in the near future. I’m grateful to be able to process my feelings with tools I’ve acquired through my training in the Grief Recovery Method and as I help others. Every time I’m allowed to help others, I, too, am helping myself.

The Coming of Fall

As we transition from summer to fall, I find myself reminiscing while looking forward to an upcoming trip to the East to enjoy the beautiful fall foliage. However, there's a lingering sense of unease when I think back to the events that unfolded between September 3rd and October 9th of 2020. It was an incredibly challenging time, and just recalling those days brings back feeling overwhelmed and anxious. In that short period, I experienced the loss of my mom, received a cancer diagnosis, laid my mom to rest, underwent surgery, and embarked on a journey of recovery. Following the surgery, I had to undergo radiation as a precaution, which continued until the end of 2020.

Reflecting on that time fills me with disappointment, frustration, and anger. Nevertheless, I've taken steps towards healing by allowing myself to acknowledge and process these emotions. Through the work of grief recovery, I've learned the importance of sitting with my feelings, allowing myself the necessary time to process them, and then expressing those feelings in a safe space. Unfortunately, there's often a lack of understanding when giving grieving people the space to process their emotions. Many of us are told that we're doing great things for the community, but the truth is that we carry deep and long-lasting hurts. People often buy into myths such as "It just takes time" or "Keep your mind off it," or they try to fill the void with other distractions. At times, we may isolate ourselves because we feel like a burden, or we put on a brave face to help others while neglecting our pain and loss. It's also not uncommon for others to tell us not to feel bad, which only adds to the struggle.

I want to share that I am available to help. I want to be a heart with ears and allow you the space to heal your heart. You are not alone. I have an in-person group that will start in October, and for now, I will only be facilitating in-person groups. I’m available for one-on-one online only. I understand how difficult it can be to cope with such feelings, and I want you to know that you are not alone. It is essential to acknowledge that the adverse effects of grief can accumulate over time, so I want to encourage you to seek help when you feel ready. Remember, asking for support is okay - we all need it sometimes. Follow this link to Through a Glass Dimly for more info on groups and when they begin.

Reflections on a Cloudy June Day

The sky is covered in clouds today, reminding me that the weather is constantly changing. Even in sunny California, we can be surprised by a sudden rainstorm with big drops falling in late June. As I watch the clouds gathering today, I find myself feeling reflective. I am struck by how time has passed and how much has happened in the past year.

It's hard to believe that just one year ago, I was getting ready for a kidney biopsy on 6/30, struggling with the mystery of my declining health. And now, I'm preparing for an incredible adventure—a river cruise along the Danube and a tour of the beautiful settings from the film "The Sound of Music," which holds a special place in my heart as the first movie I ever watched. I've shared much about my journey and am excited about the new experiences ahead.

I often reflect on the various transitions and losses I have experienced. My discussions about Grief Recovery hold significant meaning to me, as I hope that sharing my experiences may resonate with at least one person. It’s important to acknowledge that loss isn’t solely related to death; it can encompass a wide range of events that evoke feelings of grief.

My journey has been marked by numerous losses, such as relocating, changing jobs, losing pets, navigating an empty nest, and experiencing relationship shifts. Through the process of Grief Recovery, I’ve gained profound insights into myself, and I wholeheartedly believe that this program has been the most beneficial and impactful for my personal growth.

As I look back on the past year, I feel deeply thankful for the stability in my health. Despite the challenges of the year, I am grateful for the ability to continue traveling and for the personal growth I’ve experienced. In addition to the skills I’ve acquired over the years, both professionally and personally, I’ve also delved into the art of photography. Furthermore, I’m proud to have attained the title of Grief Recovery Specialist, with experience with online and in-person groups, which has empowered me to support and guide others through their healing and recovery journeys. There’s more to come, so stand by!

My Word for 2024

In the quiet of the day today, I began thinking about the year's end and my word for 2024. This year has not been precisely what I thought it would be, with my word for this year being "Inspire." My primary reason for choosing this word was that after launching my Grief Recovery in-person groups, I wanted to inspire others to process loss through the Grief Recovery Method. I was able to host three groups in 2023 and help so many folks with their losses. It was a great blessing. Seeing some of the folks who've gone through my groups and the transformation I see in them has been amazing. That is inspiring for me. Yet, in the meanwhile, some other things transpired in my personal life that left me feeling a bit defeated. I'm never sure what the results of my word for the year will be, but I always intend to be the encourager. 

In July of this year, after a kidney biopsy, I was given a diagnosis of Fibrillary Glomerulonephritis https://rarediseases.org/rare-diseases/fibrillary-glomerulonephritis/

It's a long story, but this was after months of tests, which finally resulted in a biopsy in June and a diagnosis in July after confirmation from the Mayo Clinic. With this in mind and a little research, I've stumbled across my word for 2024. Since July, I've been working with my doctor and a few other clinicians to get to a place of stability with my health. For me, this is a good thing. This disease is progressive with no cure, so stability is good. I've had a lot of emotions I've carried for the last year, much of it just in the previous six months. Recently, I didn't realize how much I was carrying until I had a massage, which left me in tears and exhausted from some of what I was holding. Some of what I was holding is the weight of this disease. Some of what I'm holding is cumulative grief that feels heavier during the holidays. Some of what I carry is just life, which doesn't always feel good. Part of my training in Grief Recovery is to be present. Sit with what makes my heart sad and, in time, give it a voice. I'm still processing all of it. 

So, with that, my word for 2024 is stable-not likely to fall or give way, as a structure, support, foundation, etc.; firm; steady. Able or likely to continue or last; firmly established; enduring or permanent. I'm praying for my health to continue to be stable. I also hope to continue to lend my expertise and training to other grievers to help them process their losses in the new year. If it's time to process your loss, please reach out so we can chat. I have groups starting in January.

 https://www.griefrecoverymethod.com/grms/dawn-kincade

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

A Zookeeper of Introverts

Today would have been your 33rd trip around the sun. I’m not going to lie; I’m sad you aren’t here. I’m sorry that you are missing all the things. Part of the process of the completion of our relationship with Grief Recovery is talking through our hopes, dreams, and expectations, and I’m grateful to have processed those things. Still, those feelings can surface on days like today, and I must face the grief of you not being here. I’ve learned a lot over the last two years, and I often feel like a broken record when sharing about Grief Recovery. I share because I know of loss, and everyone is walking out their losses individually. I can listen and be a heart with ears. I’m also grateful to have processed such a painful loss as Evan’s death. Pain does not equal love. Carrying painful feelings is not how love carries on. Sweet memories and funny stories, along with the love of family and friends, being truthful about what hurts, and not running away from painful feelings by doing things that help me not feel them. (overeating, drinking, shopping, and isolation) I’ve done that too long, which is part of the problem. So, at this moment, I am heartbroken, and I miss you. There is a hollow place in our family because you are not here. I can’t pretend it’s not there; part of that reality’s truth is to say it. Happy Birthday to you! You’re missed every day, especially at this time of year.

Giving my feelings a voice.

November's cool, crisp air brings a melancholy of watching the warmth of summer cool into fall. October is always packed with birthdays and days of Indian summer. Alex and I share a birthday month, and it's always endearing for us to have that thing we share. Some of my favorite people share a birthday month with me, and I love that my birthday comes at the beginning of the month so that my party-happy Enneagram Seven can have an entire month of fun. But all the fun must make way for other feelings, even the hard ones.

Over the last year or so, I've done a lot of grief work. Grief work is hard. It brings with it truth and reality. For me, that fact could not be more accurate than November. Although I've done significant work with grief and have had the privilege of helping others, which in turn has helped me, November is a melancholy month for me. Completing losses means delivering those communications that in your relationship you wish had been different, better, or more, and your hopes, dreams, and expectations for your relationship. The truth in those communications is where pain lives. Last year, I worked on completing those communications with Evan, and in turn, I felt that the poetry slam would not be happening and that it had extinguished its lifespan. Writing that now feels different than it did at the time. For me, it felt like a betrayal to Evan. As if we were leaving him behind, I may need to write a P.S. to him about it as I write this. Because it may have been that what I was leaving behind was the pain. Some of that became evident the year before, but almost everyone was trying to help me process my loss and came to rally around me and our family.

So that brings us to today. November 2023. Seven years after Evan's death. It is a lifetime, yet a moment, and I'm sitting with my feelings about this and unsure how to articulate my heart. I've felt a lot these last seven years, and still, as this month approaches, the melancholy moves in, and I sit with it. No one feels like I do about Evan, which is okay. Everyone experienced him differently, and they are experiencing that loss at 100%. Milestones happen daily with us as a family and with his friends. I feel those losses and have learned to process them independently and through a lens of gratitude that I get to share those milestones with others who loved Evan, too. Time does not heal. Time and correct actions heal. Nothing can replace my losses. Keeping busy doesn't heal my loss. These are myths that I've been taught throughout a lifetime, and they haven't helped. Part of the process of understanding is sitting with those feelings and giving those feelings and ponderings a voice, and in doing that, I honor Evan's memory and the short life he lived. I love and miss you, son.

Just Waiting

I started this year with the word "Inspire." Initially, I believed that the year ahead looked so hopeful as I began to help people with their losses and, in turn, reinforced for me the calling I felt to help others and be an excellent listener—a heart with ears. Things seemed to be going along great with me starting my Grief Recovery Groups. I felt that I could share the process with people and, in turn, help others as I continued to hone my skills as a guide and inspire others with undelivered emotional communications.

In early February, I went in for routine bloodwork, and the results of those tests started my care team to look at reasons for some discrepancy; they proceeded to schedule several scopes and other things to figure out the cause. Most of those tests returned negative, which is positive, but I still didn't have a diagnosis. In early March, I was diagnosed with CKD, Chronic Kidney Disease.CKD I am at stage 3, and after many attempts to stabilize my blood pressure, I'm moving toward the numbers I need to be at with medication and some lifestyle changes. In many instances, patients can maintain for a long while in stage 3 just by correct medicines and healthy lifestyle changes. One of the most challenging things impacted by this is that my energy and strength were at an all-time low. I don’t let much get me down or stop me from doing anything if you know me. I’m a doer. This diagnosis has been overwhelming as I just finished having cancer in 2020, and now, to have another diagnosis with such long-term effects has been challenging for me. Even with all of this, my bloodwork has still not bounced back, and in the next week, I'll have a kidney biopsy to get more specific answers as to why my kidneys aren't functioning correctly.

During the last year, I've learned much about how grief and loss affect us emotionally and physically. There are podcasts I've listened to and books I've read that talk specifically about how our body keeps the score regarding grief and loss. As you might guess, this journey with my health has been emotional for me. Health losses can be hard to process as so much information comes at you; sometimes, it's too much. Much of what I help people with in Grief Recovery are the things in our lives and relationships we wish had been different, better, or more, and our hopes, dreams, and expectations as we all have them. It's in these places that we find the most heartache and brokenness. I'm looking to process my health losses using my training in Grief Recovery. I can tell you that this was not how I planned to go into this new year, with my health leading in all my decisions. As you might guess, this has caused great apprehension in me. I appreciate any prayers as I wait for answers.

Bereaved Mother's Day

Today marks my seventh year acknowledging Bereaved Mother's Day, the first Sunday in May. Much has changed since I first wrote a blog about bereaved motherhood. How that feels as I look at this day and all the many people I know and who I've met over the seven years who have lost a child, either through miscarriage or premature childhood death or adult children that have passed away, I know for a certainty that this was not a club that I joined voluntarily nor is it one others would join on their own. Although time has passed, I feel, on some level, that I've turned a corner. My enormous feelings are still just as acute and just as honest as they were on that first Mother's Day without Evan. There has been much that I have tried to regain through counseling and the completion of my relationship with Evan through the Grief Recovery Method; as Mother's Day approaches, the missing him is not different; that feels the same, and no amount of counseling or processing or logic will change that. My fond memories and my love will last a lifetime.

To all the moms I've met along this path, thank you for being a voice of encouragement to me. Thank you for seeing me and sharing your love for your child with me. I'm grateful for your friendship and your acquaintance. In general, grieving parents are misunderstood. To a world that wishes for us to be OK, we are OK. We have someone we love very much, our child, die, and until you can feel that pain, it's challenging to understand. We don't need pity, and we don't need fixing. We need to share our story and to be listened to. You may have moved on about our child, but we haven't, and not speaking about them tells us a lot. I'm grateful for the training I've gone through with The Grief Recovery Method. It has given me the new tools I need to help others experiencing loss and allowed me to be available for them to share their story and complete their losses. I'm thinking of you on this Bereaved Mother's Day.

Lessons Learned Along the Way

Life is a series of lessons taught to us, and then using those lessons to move our path forward. I've learned many things over the last almost seven years. These things have been hard lessons and have taken me down painful pathways, yet I've learned a lot about others and how that looks and feels for me. This year has been a year of growth, and with that growth comes hard decisions and the continued loneliness that is grief. I've continued formulating my path, which has always been the way it is. Grief isn't something one does with others; it is more of a parallel journey. With my discoveries through the Grief Recovery Method of how loss impacts not just life but the physical parts of us, I've had to take a long hard look at how I move through grief and loss. In many ways, it has given me space not to hold others hostage to my feelings and allowed me to have some grace for them. Still, it also has given me the understanding that processing our losses is complicated, and many don't have the tools to unpack their grief/loss.

I'm also trying to figure out how one processes the loss of community, not just from the loss of your child but also from the failure of unmet expectations. This time (my son's death and the pandemic) has shown me what I've always felt: we're alone. My attitude has been the downside of loss, and it has allowed flaws in myself to be multiplied, and that has caused great judgment of myself and others. The Grief Recovery Method has helped me see the things I wish had been different, better, or more, and has released me from the feelings that come with undelivered communication.

For this reason, I've been so grateful to have the tools I need to process my hopes, dreams, and expectations, which are the primary source of my pain. I will continue to think through what I wish had been different, better, or more with my relationship with others and reflect on the changes it has brought me.

Grief Recovery is for anyone who has suffered grief or loss of any kind. For more on groups that are starting in April, click on the link https://www.griefrecoverymethod.com/grms/dawn-kincade

The Hard Work of Grief

The cold winter winds are starting to warm just a little through the warmth; I still get the chills from February breezes. As the year started, I began a Grief Recovery group. It has been my heart to use my training to help those who have suffered loss to communicate their undelivered emotional communications.

What I've learned is that grief is cumulative and cumulatively negative. As I've observed, all the classes begin with faces filled with vulnerability, despair, and deep sadness. At the onset, we discuss the old tools we use to manage our losses. I help them understand those tools to recognize them in not only their current losses but their past losses too. Then the remaining weeks are spent learning and activating new tools to help them understand and complete their losses. We learn about how time doesn't heal, but time and correct actions heal. We learn about how completion does not mean forgetting. When we take the steps toward completion, we make room for memories filled with joy, hope, and love.

I speak from a place of understanding. This last week it became clear to the participants that they have taken the steps and are moving towards completing their losses. I can see it not just in how they look but also in their lightness, and it's remarkable. I'm privileged to partner with these beautiful souls who have trusted me with their hearts. If you want to join me, I have classes in March and can help one-on-one too. Will you trust me to help you with your broken heart? Let me be for you "a heart with ears." Grief Recovery Dawn Kincade

My Real Highlight Reel...My Word for 2023

The end of the year always brings highlights from the year we're leaving with bright hopes for the year ahead. I always love to see what those highlights look like and when I get ready to do mine, I'm always disappointed by what the algorithm chose for my "highlights." It's always difficult for an app to know what made my day and what got a lot of likes. In my economy, likes don't always equate to making my heart happy.

As I closed out the year, my word for 2022 was the noun version of Resolve-firm determination to do something. Similar words to resolve are braveness~courage~spunk~steadfastness~persistence

I'm looking back fondly because this word was the very essence of my year. I was persistent in understanding grief and all of the things that grief has taught me. I spent the year taking the information I've learned over several years of loss, pursuing what I've gleaned, and getting the training with the grief recovery method that has me moving into the next thing God has for me.

I've decided on my word for 2023 and just ordered my one little word piece.

My Word for 2023 is Inspire - to influence or impel, to give inspiration to, to produce or arouse (a feeling, thought, etc.). Other similar words are educate-enrich-enlighten-transform-nurture. As I move into 2023 with newfound information on grief and loss, I hope to Inspire others to feel their feelings and to process and complete their losses. I’m wondering…what is your word for 2023?? Happy New Year!!

Milestones and a Rebranding

This week marks two years since my last radiation treatment, and most say I’ve been cancer-free. My heart always hesitates to say that, as cancer is tricky. Cancer, for me anyway, always seems to be lurking in the background. I’m thankful for the medical technology that has allowed me to have the treatments I need. I’m also grateful that I live in a country where I have the choices I do medically to decide what I need or want and the freedom I still have to choose. So with those choices, I have fulfilled my desire to help others as they navigate not just grief but losses of any kind, including loss of health.

I rebooted my brand earlier this year after training in Grief Recovery. I decided to do a new logo and take a look at what I want to accomplish on this side of loss. So I had photos done of myself, and I wanted a logo that communicated what I wanted to bring to those suffering loss. You can’t use old keys to open new doors. So I want to give people tools/keys so that they have what they need to complete their loss. Photography will still be a tool I use to express my feelings and to help others capture life. It just will play a supporting role now. I want to thank Kristen McGregor for her graphic artist skills and Lynda Kennedy Photography for her branding photography.

I want to thank my husband, who always sees the vast potential in me that I often overlook. To my son Alex who has also been a cheerleader and support on the days when I felt like I could not see the good, you are my sunshine. To all the health professionals who have cared for me during these last two years but even before that, I’m grateful for your heart and skills. To my family and friends, I’m glad to have you in my corner; although I know, sometimes it can be exhausting, thanks for standing with me. Finally, to Evan, I’m unsure if the stress of your passing had anything to do with my cancer as we are finding more research saying that our bodies keep the score when we are suffering loss/grief. Still, you are one of my best motivators to help others in their suffering. Thanks for that. We miss you every day!

More to come as I start the work on my website and continue facilitating The Grief Recovery Method in my community. I’ve added a link if you want to join in the new year. https://www.griefrecoverymethod.com/content/valley-church-1673487900

Turning the Page

In January of 2022, my word for the year was Resolve.

Resolve

1. settle or find a solution to (a problem, dispute, or contentious matter).

2. decide firmly on a course of action.

3. firm determination to do something. ~braveness~courage~spunk~steadfastness~persistence

When I chose that word for 2022, I had no idea that the year ahead would set me on the course I am now on and, I believe, the reason I can move toward the future.

While on Facebook in January, I found a friend's post about a Grief Recovery program. I shared this in a recent blog.Being a Heart with Ears

So in August, I decided to pursue polishing my "brand," so to speak. With newly acquired training in the Grief Recovery Method, I plan to make grief recovery part of what I want to share with the world, with photography being the expression that I share that connects me to nature and people. As a person grieving, I want to hold space for others trying to understand loss and all the feelings associated with grief.

So I began the process of fine-tuning my website and having photos taken of myself with a photographer. For me, this was a big step. To trust the process of branding myself with others is what I thought would be fun and easy (it started that way), but as the days leading up to the photo shoot came, I could feel myself wanting to scream at the top of my lungs "why are you doing this?" and loads of other questions and doubts. I can say with some certainty that it was grief. These step towards the future was me mourning the loss of what I was; to a rebranded me.

In thinking about that process, I saw myself looking back, and the secondary losses of the last six years came RUSHING back, and I was overwhelmed with big emotions. All of us are grievers, and we are experiencing that grief at 100%. So for me to articulate this experience to the average reader, it can get lost, and it's ok. This is just my journey, and I share it to give understanding and to invite you into the process.

On the day of the shoot, I had a text from a dear friend whose photos motivated me to reach out to the photographer who did my photos. Even thinking of that exchange with my friend is very emotional. She is more family than a friend, but her words helped me process my big emotions and talk me off the ledge. The day was filled with tears for many reasons that I've yet to process entirely, but the day ended well with yummy Mexican food with my husband and a greater understanding of myself as I move forward. Resolve is a word that has captured my year so far. With just a few months til year's end, Resolve has been the perfect choice for 2022.

I want to thank Lynda Kennedy for her vision and care for my photos. Thanks for holding space for my past and bringing them into my future. To my makeup artist Corrine Boicelli who took an emotional, grieving woman and made me look beautiful. Great conversation too! My door is always open to talk about grief and loss. A reworked website is coming soon.

Being a Heart with Ears...The Grief Recovery Method

“Grief is the normal and natural reaction to loss of any kind.” TGRM

I recently returned from training as a Grief Recovery Specialist for The Grief Recovery Method, and as I promised, I wanted to share the experience in more than just a quick post. It was an experience that changed me, and I came away with great tools to help myself and others deliver undelivered emotional communications to complete the losses we have in our lives.

First, I have to preface this: I've tried many different programs, from faith-based programs to books and videos. None of those things brought me to the place I am today after completing the book and the training. I desire to use what I've learned to help others feel lighter and more complete with their loss/grief in a group or one-on-one.

I entered this training after a friend posted about the program on her Facebook page. The church she attended was hosting an 8-week class, and unfortunately, that class was located in SoCal. I looked on the website and found that the closest in-person class from Vacaville was in Reno, which was too far for me to attend. I reached out to my friend in SoCal, and she directed me to the Grief Recovery Specialist she knew, and the discovery process began for me. After that conversation with the Grief Recovery Specialist, I decided to get the book. I found another friend interested in doing the book with me, and in February, she and I started the book together and finished the book together in March. I felt strongly about continuing to help others as the book helped me so much, so I signed up for the specialist training in LA.

The work in Grief Recovery isn't easy. Emotional Communication is incomplete when we use our intellect to explain what is in the heart. Me, I felt isolated, frustrated, and misunderstood, so I returned to old behavior patterns. The Grief Recovery Method helped me recognize the patterns and, with that recognition, work on those painful feelings so that I could deliver the incomplete communication to complete my loss. I still have work to do and will continue to do the work on myself. I can say with absolute clarity that this program has changed me. It has given me a clear understanding of how much my grief and the losses I've had has slowly chipped away at who I am. My 100% is now operating at 60% or less, and I want myself back. I want to live the rest of my days complete and fulfilled. For those who are interested, don't hesitate to get in touch with me directly. I plan a pilot group shortly and would love to have you. I hope this was helpful, and I'm available to chat anytime.

My Word for 2022

Resolve

1. settle or find a solution to (a problem, dispute, or contentious matter).

2. decide firmly on a course of action.

3. firm determination to do something. ~braveness~courage~spunk~steadfastness~persistence

Since Evan's untimely death, I've tried each new year to find a word that moves me into that coming year with the fortitude to continue the course Jesus has given me. Sometimes the word has popped out at me, and other times I've struggled to find the word. I then use that word to formulate a hashtag to track the year with its share of ups and downs. Above is the word that came to me for this year~Resolve. After the last two years, I am going into this year with the noun version of this word~braveness, courage, grit, and steadfastness. I resolve to live the life that God intended me to live, and I will continue to not live in fear of its outcome for me.

In years past while taking Christmas down, I watch the movie "Out of Africa." I started this tradition the last few years as it has come to symbolize the resolve I need to move forward and it speaks to the enormity of grief and loss I've endured. Towards the end of the movie, the female character who has lost everything many times over the course of the movie tells the male main character that when she wants to realize just how much she can endure, she imagines one more thing that can happen, and she's able to see just how much she can bear. She then, days later, endures another loss. It is poignant, and I can tell you that yesterday when I watched it, I remembered all that I've had to endure this year and over the last few years.

Yesterday was incredibly emotional for me for many reasons. Some dear friends came by yesterday to bring flowers and to thank me for helping with their wedding, and I cried when they arrived and cried after they left. Weeks and months of planning their wedding and all of that as I look through my lens of grief and loss as I resolve to be brave and courageous into 2022.

My Christmas Playlist

I opened my Spotify playlist for Christmas recently and was instantly brought back to December 2020. This week marks one year since the beginning and ending of radiation for cancer. The Christmas playlist was something I listened to on my way to and from therapy in Sacramento. For the therapy portion of those days I tried to find songs that had a length of at least 5 minutes as that would be how long my treatments were. Maverick City Music always came through for me as most of their songs are at least that long. I haven't been listening to this playlist this year. I'm not sure why, maybe because I know myself well enough that being transported to that time isn't something I like. It wasn't painful; it was just that it was CANCER. It's like grief. It's constantly in the foreground. Always lurking. I'm grateful that I feel good and that my checkups to this point have been fine. It's just that I never know. So while picking up coffee, I remembered my playlist, and the memories of last year came rushing back.

A Man of Prose and Poems

The clouds have been looming overhead for the last few days gray, dark and stormy. Today the sun has come shining through, and memories of this day and this time of year five years ago are always swirling around in my mind. People who have had significate trauma through the loss of a person and, for me, the loss of a child remember details that at the time seem insignificant to most. I remember the weather and the lack of photos I took leading up to this day and the following days of waiting and watching. I was still learning photography, and taking pictures every day was part of the process of learning, so for me to look back on this time and seeing very few photos seemed strange for me.

I've heard that during the days, weeks, and months leading up to his accident, Evan had reached out to several folks that he had lost touch with or just had things that had been left unspoken. I often wonder if somehow the universe was making way for him to fill the holes he thought were there. I usually live in this space of contentment and regret when I look back on these days leading up to this time. Contentment as his parent that Evan was doing the thing he had worked so hard for and that he was working as a salesforce administrator, coming into his last semester at Sac State and finding his sense of purpose. When I think in those terms, my regret and sadness seem multiplied. He was finally finding the rhythm. So the regret for me is why???

I know I'm five years in, and shouldn't I feel less regret. Unfortunately, the answer to that for me is no. With every promotion, every child born, every announcement, and the significant moments of others, I wonder and ask why? I wondered why in the earlier days of my loss, but now it's become a painful part of the healing and angst of loss. I run into people even now who remember Evan and are quick to share the impact he made with them. Maybe it's their way of finding peace, or they are just being kind, but we're talking five years later, and they still remember and want to share that with me. Their words fill the empty place in my heart that misses Evan and yet it brings a great sadness and returns me to Why?

In all of this, the building of my Faith has been strengthened, and honestly it’s a mystery. In the mystery and depth of Christ, that question goes unanswered. It is not because of anything I can do but because I can't know all the answers. I don't have all the answers, and it keeps me dependent on a God who does. It keeps me open to the possibility that even in the most painful and misunderstood parts of me, He is there to walk with me...carrying me...hold me and to show me that I'm not alone. He brings me peace in the turmoil and if there is anything I can tell you about the last five years is that I know that Jesus has carried me. He brings those people who remember and have good things to say and encourages me to see the impact that Evan had, and with that comes peace, if just for a moment. It makes me smile through my tears as I can tell you I miss Evan, and I know that Alex and John do too.

So as I move into this time of reflection of this significant loss for me, I do so consistently with a clear understanding of the significance of faith and with the questions of my loss placed entirely on the shoulders of Jesus. He carries the load with the strength that I'm unable to maintain.

The Painter of Life Gloria Ann Kincade

I had an appointment in the city today, and after a stop in Oakland to have coffee with Alex, I drove home through the hills of Berkley. This time of year is always so beautiful; even here in California, the leaves are changing. The fresh rain helped to brighten the leaves with a soaking these last few days.

While preparing for surgery, my mother-in-law, Gloria, took her last breath from her earthly home on Sunday. I had the entire drive home from the city to process what that felt like to me. I stopped along the way and took a few photos of the landscape and that made the trip home weepy and filled with memories. The reality is that none of us will escape death. It's a hard truth but a truth just the same. What we can reflect on is the impact that we make and the lives we touch.

Gloria was the keeper of memories in the Kincade family. She spent many days putting memories in scrapbooks and reminiscing of her childhood. She was active in the lives of her children and grandchildren. I was fortunate to be the first in the family to fill her arms with a grandchild, Evan. She was an active grandparent, and although she worked full time when Evan was born, she made time for him and never missed a holiday that she could celebrate her firstborn grandchild. Not too soon after that, her second grandchild, Alex, came along, and again she and Pop-Pop made every family holiday and some made-up holidays extra special. My boys have the fondest memories of those days.

Today has been hard for many reasons that don't honestly make sense to the average person. Gloria and I had so much that we loved and enjoyed. She was an artist and loved to paint. She and I could talk for days about color, landscapes, and all of the beauty and wonder of creation. We often spoke of Jesus, and we would even complain about some of the same things. One of my fondest memories recently was the year that my father-in-law passed away and the last Thanksgiving we had with Evan. Nana (Gloria) wanted to cook Thanksgiving dinner at her house for the family, but it was a tremendous undertaking for her. So she and I partnered together, and we made Thanksgiving dinner for the family. That was our last big dinner in her home as it became too hard for her to perform that task. She LOVED to prepare and decorate for the holidays, and that is just another of the things I loved about her; her sense of style.

The Summer before Evan passed away, she and I were docents at the California State Fair. I had several photos chosen for the photography section, and it was one of the best times I can remember of us having done something we both loved. I'm grateful for Nana's influence on my life and the lives of my children. I know that Pop-pop and Evan greeted you with the biggest hug.

Happy Birthday to you!!

Today is your birthday and as you begin your 29th trip around the sun I want you to know that we are so proud of you and are so grateful for the light that you bring to us. We don’t always agree and that’s ok. We hold on to the things that matter most, each other. This last year found you doing new things and forging new, uncharted paths.

As your mom, I want to give you space to acknowledge how the threads of grief and loss weave through the very fabric of any occasion we celebrate. The passing of time is a thief and sometimes we are left empty handed watching it run away from us. It seems to start as the season's change and carries through, at least for me, until spring. Honestly, it never goes away. I also realize that there are things that Dad and I don't know that only Evan held about you, and it's those things that I mourn. It's that proximity that I agonize over as I can't give those to you. You can't always articulate those things; you often seem without the words you need to express it, and I want to help, but I'm just a listener—an observer of the grief you bear. So I listen. I hold open the door so that you can walkthrough. I mourn with you as it seems hard to find those who understand these parts—the loss of a brother and all that comes with it. Happy Birthday, son! May this year hold great things for you as you continue to walk out your path.

Mosaic of Seasons

"Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting, and autumn a mosaic of them all." Stanley Horowitz

I love this quote as it is a lovely word picture of the seasons and the different art mediums. Fall brings cooler weather, leaves changing, shorter days, and the smell of rain in the air. On the other hand, spring brings the brightest flowers, warmer weather, longer days, and the scent of new beginnings. Fall brings an end to the cycle that will begin again when spring returns. It's part of the journey, and yet we so look forward to spring, at least I do. Fall brings changes and those feelings of loss and grief for me.

This Saturday will mark the last birthday I spent with Evan here on this planet five years ago. It's one of the many birthday memories I have of us as a family, and as I begin this new year, it's a longing to be together that never leaves me. The internet isn't always kind when we see all the family's celebrating birthdays, anniversaries, and other special events, and I am ALWAYS repeating the same photos and feelings. This time of year is hard. I woke up the other day, and this overwhelming sense of grief came over and had me crying into my pillow until the sunrise. The days between tears have gotten longer. Softer. But they're still very hard. Sad. Painful. I read this article about Grief Math and had often wondered if these calculations I do on the future anniversaries and such are just a quirky thing that I do, but I've come to realize that it's a thing. That helped me feel ok about what I do.

So Saturday, I begin my next trip around the sun, and with that, I've come out on the other side one-year cancer-free. YAY! I've recovered from radiation and C*vid, and I've learned who can be trusted and who will see me through when the going gets tough. That has been the most painful and most challenging lesson for me. Just as in the earlier parts of grief, you come to realize who can be in it for the long haul, and you find that most of the time, when you go to lean back, the community has left you, and just a few are left to hold your heart. You also learn that the people who dare to stand with you are the people that have similar wounds that you do. Those people understand, and if your space is filled with a few of these precious souls, you are luckier than most.

So I walk into this birthday, feeling slightly anxious about what the future holds but more resolute to follow my path and with the feelings of grief and loss still right on the surface, ready to wake me in the early morning hours to have me watch for the sunrise.

John and Alex, thanks for always talking me off the edge. You both always find a way to carry my heart even though you, too, are walking out your grief.