This site has been up and running since mid-July, but it has been quiet. Why? Procrastination, perhaps. But every time I sat down to write, the words quickly veered toward grief and loss—my grief and loss. On May 19th, my daughter passed away unexpectedly, and my life shifted in a way that feels both unrecognizable and deeply permanent. Things that once brought me joy now feel distant, dulled by her absence.
This blog was something we’d talked about in January, shortly after Christmas. I mentioned wanting to try writing, to explore sharing thoughts with others. She simply said, “Well, what are you waiting for?” Her words lingered in the back of my mind, urging me on, and here I am, starting, even if I don’t entirely know what this will become.
Maybe this blog will evolve into a sort of diary. Perhaps it will be a space where I explore what life has taught me and continues to teach me. I’m older now, with a lifetime of learning behind me, yet still so much ahead. In these pages, I’ll share a bit about what it means to be me.
I live in a small, rural town nestled in the eastern slopes of the Rocky Mountains. When I first moved here, I wasn’t thrilled. Growing up in a small town, I had eventually moved to a city where my life finally felt like my own. Moving back to a tiny, remote place like Grande Cache felt like a step backward. But now, almost 30 years later, this place has become home—its good, bad, and inevitable imperfections have woven themselves into my life.
There’s something about time that reshapes our feelings. It has a way of bringing comfort, but it also invites discomfort, often side by side. I’ve come to appreciate that, even when it’s hard, this is where life happens—where healing, growth, and understanding all find their place. I hope that in sharing this journey, I can offer something meaningful, both to myself and to you, the reader.