There are five more days left in July and I am hoping they pass quietly into August. For those who know my July, you know it is fraught with loss and love and hope and an underlying tide of grief more evident in other months.

Granny’s passing was just another notch in July’s belt. I refuse to buy July a bigger belt.

I’ve been working hard my July’s. Giving them credit and remembrance where it is due at the same time allowing myself space and grace. It’s been a process. And it has been work.

Conscious work; journaling, allowing time for myself, checking in on my emotions, my Hubs, my relationship to this world and the people in it…….I don’t think any of this comes to us without a conscious effort.

Thursday after we lost Granny, I met a dear friend for a swim in a lake.

I love open water swimming. I love how small I feel in the middle of something so much bigger than myself. I am vulnerable yet strong. I am at the mercy of the elements. I have no choice but to swim. And so, I swim.

I think of Samantha when I swim in open water. The sense I rely on are gone. I can’t see more than four feet in murky water. My hearing is compromised. Samantha’s senses……all connected to her brain, never worked the way they should. I believe she lived her life navigating through murky water- vulnerable to the world.

I swim. In this murky lake and suddenly evolved Heather no longer exists. I am prehistoric crocodile Heather whose only concern is breathing.

This is the best way to navigate July. To Breathe.

I usually veer way off course when I swim in open water. I am right side dominant which leads to swimming in a circle. But this lake has a yellow rope. The yellow rope lies six feet below the surface- I never clearly see it…I just kind of see it. Following the yellow rope requires concentration- I stare into a deep abyss of murky water and search for the yellow. And that is all I think about- the yellow rope.

And breathing. Breathing is good too.

And suddenly, I have swam across the lake. Evolved Heather realizes she now has to swim back. Crocodile Heather jumps back in thinking about the best place to get a breakfast burrito.

I try to look beyond what I can see in the water- I think of Gran and her last days….Sammers and her last days…..and I follow the yellow rope and I breathe.

Back on land, my senses jump back into place. I smell like a lake. I hear my phone. I see the sun reflecting off the flatirons. Crocodile Heather forgets how to start a car, find there is no room for her tail and so I stop.

Stop. And breathe. And search for the yellow rope. And a breakfast burrito.

On February 14, 2021, I posted that I was changing jobs in the middle of a pandemic. Here I was, all giddy and nervous….leaving something familiar that I knew well for that bright shinny penny at the bottom of the pool.

You know what that experience was?

It.

Was.

Awesome.

It was fun, terrifying, a bit out of my comfort zone…..I learned something new but offered expertise as well. It was humbling to work with such super smart people. Crazy that they chose me…..it was a lovely gift.

And then I quit.

I KNOW right???? I’m not a quitter. Only quitters quit. But that’s what I did. I up and resigned after four whole months.

Because this job market is crazy. And us 50-somethings think it’s only crazy for those young whippersnappers in the global digital space. But you know what? It can be crazy for us subject matter experts 25 years in the industry too.

It was funny being courted for another job after four months. I felt like I was on job Tinder. This is not me. I don’t leave. I have been at the same job for 15 years. Only quitters quit. What about insurance? I just qualified for my 501K match. I just learned the Apple IOS system and GSuite….kind of.

And after years of committed job history, it was terrifying to tell my new manager that I was leaving after four months. They took a chance on me.

And so we talked. We talked about this opportunity, this job market, the lovely gift I had been given during these four months.

And my manager said, “You were meant to work here so we could get to know each other. It’s okay. Our paths will cross again.” And then she told me how great this time has been and how fortunate SHE felt to have worked with ME.

Well Hells Bells. Butter my biscuit and call me for dinner.

I will always think of this interaction with grace. I will always hold this person and her leadership style in the highest regard.

In a time when people are leaving their jobs in record numbers for other opportunities……in this super hot job market where a 50-something gray haired lady can change jobs twice in the first half of 2021, it’s important to remember who we are as employers and employees.

How do you make me feel? When I hand in that resignation, you as a manager are in charge and represent the entire company- after four months of service or after many years. We all remember that last interaction.

How lucky am I?

It was a lovely gift.

My baby toe hangs out with the rest of my toes. Most of the time I don’t consider my baby toe. It is not an outstanding, necessary, appendage. At the same time it is not problematic but it is there ….it is a part of me, just like my big toe, my pinky, my ear lobe, my back molar, my grief……

My grief.

It is July.

And for those of you who have known me for a couple trips around the sun, you know that July is a complex, bittersweet month for me. I can be as testy as a cat on a hot tin roof or introspective and welcoming…..almost manic at times and under the covers the next.

Hello July.

To give myself grace……(a practice I have embraced lately), July saw the births and the deaths of my Littles- both Jack and Samantha. We ride for Children’s in July, we raise money in the name of our kiddos….it is a month. A month of Love and Loss.

What is grief if it is not Love and Loss?

And as time moves further from my loss, I struggle to find it’s place. And my place.

Yesterday our son would have been 16. I did not know Jack beyond the 9 months in my belly but I miss the wonder of who Jack could have been. Who he would have been had he time in this world.

The medical world says he would have been sick. Sick with mitochondrial disease. But we didn’t know that….in my wonder-world he could have been anything…..stinky, lippy, driving, tall….so tall given his genes. A great skier….

Amazing. I can wonder him as amazing. And so I do.

As the calendar turns to another July, 16 years have softened the loss. Time has weathered my response- there is nothing dramatic or catastrophic but the time must be recognized for me. For my Hubs. For our own relationship.

In 16 years, Grief is now a part of who I am and how I move through the world. It is not good or bad but my natural history. It is me….just like my baby toe or my pinky. It is not my whole lens of my eyesight but a part of my cornea that can dull or sharpen my perspective.

And like any body part, sometimes it needs attention.

Happy July Grief Baby Toe. I embrace you.

And Happy Birthday Jack….you amazing, tall, stinky, awesome skier. I miss who you could have been.

I had a great week with my niece.

I love ALL of my time with my nieces and nephews but as they grow older and find their voice, their eye, their person…. watching these Littles become grown amazing people is really fun. I fall in love with them all over again….from cuddly toddlers to thinking, feeling, artistic people….

I want to have great coffee with them at a hip cafe.

My niece…..Miss Y graduated last weekend with a 4.6 GPA at Cornell.

When Miss Y was four she requested patent leather shoes for her fifth birthday. Her sense of fashion never looked back; it took her to Cornell, Manhattan, New York, Paris, Fort Collins (hehehehehe) and soon back to Paris.

She designs amazing clothes.

I love clothes…..so that bond, you KNOW that bond is there.

But spending this time with her, I got to know her work, her art, her vision, her passion…..And it’s really cool. So cool I found myself saying, “hey, when your home, can I take you to sushi and can we talk about your views on feminism, your struggle between self-reliance and self-doubt, and the absolute beauty in your vulnerability? Please, please, pretty please?”

Exerpts from Miss Y’s notebook….sketches, scans and a childhood photo…

This week I watched her pack up her locker; yards of muslin from practice projects, beautiful sketch upon sketch, handmade patterns with calculations on the side…..I had the honor of watching the artist pack up four years of creative energy.

And then she shared her thesis with me, and her portfolio, and her final film. I was left speechless of this independent young artist…..this side of her I barely knew but want to know more. In an excerpt from her thesis below, she speaks of her journey during Covid; perhaps in a way that speaks to many of us

In the beginning ideation phases, I prefer to explore alone. Months of quarantine in my
childhood bedroom apart from the surrounding chaos gave me the chance to reconvene with
myself. To be brave, to exist without judgment. To clearly, intentionally, explore the intimate
and painful experiences, that though never mentioned, informed every bit of my work. I spent
March – August meditating on forgiveness, September – December trying again and again to
formulate what I was getting at, and January – April bringing everything to fruition.

I personally stopped writing during COVID because the external world was too exhausting- it took all of my head space just to process.

And when Miss Y’s teammates questioned her ability to plan cohesion her answer was “How can it not be cohesive, its all come from my hands.”

The very best art does not start with the purpose of cohesion. It does not set to please anyone- we do our best work when we can bear our soul. I applaud her hands.

Here are samples of her brilliant work. If you would like to see more, send me a message

As an aunt, I stand by and cheer from the sidelines. I am not in the trenches as her parents are. I can swoop in, swoon, love admire….having only a brief summary on the hours, blood, sweat, and tears spent hand-tailoring the amazing ivory jacket.

I do know it’s fun to get to know these adult people- admire their wisdom, insight and amazing talent- to want to get to know them better as adults; super cool adults.

Congrats Miss Y. Live every second of this.

Yesterday, Maria, my fellow mito warrior and I sat down with a bottle of wine and talked about grief.

No one wants to talk about grief.

Grief is sad and loss is heartbreaking.

But for those of us who navigate a life with loss, it is a part of our world…..a world we don’t always talk about.

Because grief is sad and loss is heartbreaking.

But talking about grief with this lady feels as natural as talking about the weather.

You can find our chat here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sq3ZmHpGmss&t=172s

This year I am the Queen of unfinished projects.

Guitar? Cant play a cord.

Knitted sweater? It might be a scarf? Someday?

Delights project. HA! That is funny.

I have not posted a delight in two months. I have thought of this space often. I have thought of writing often. I have tried to process so many thoughts……..

But I must admit it, my headspace was full. I underestimated the energy it would take to leave a job after 15 years and start at a new company. It has been a wonderful, gratifying process but it required attention and headspace.

I thought I could write the morning of March 23rd as I drove into Boulder- the morning after the King Soopers shooting.

I thought I could write on March 29th when the Derek Chauvin trial started……perhaps address the trauma I felt when hearing testimony…..and the trauma many of us felt.

I could not write. It took too much energy to put emotion into words.

So I did not put anything into words. I processed. Embraced my therapist. Embraced my family. My friends. Swam. Skied. Cried.

I missed this space but not the energy it required. Alas…..I was a bit tapped.

Let your knitted sweater go. The very best project you can focus on? You.

This Little Ladies 90-year old heart is feeling a little tired. A tired heart at 90 lands you a couple nights in the hospital. A tired heart requires a visit in the hospital. Gratefully, Colorado opened up COVID restrictions TODAY and I was able to spend this afternoon with Granny and my Mama in the Cardiology Unit.

I make absolutely no qualms about how lucky I am to still have my Granny in my life. As I grow older, this time becomes a precious gift; her stories, her naughty sense of humor and grandparent love……

Grandparent love is pretty awesome. Grandkids really cannot do ANY wrong in the eyes of a grandparent. Imagine still having that carte’ blanc at 50. It is a delightful gift.

I am grateful that she is getting the best care tonight. That albeit tired, she is still able to banter with the nurses in a way that still makes her granddaughter blush (for those who know me, you KNOW this is a feat).

And I am delighted this precious gift is a part of my life.

It was COLD this weekend. Nose hair freezing cold.

We really didn’t have to go anywhere.

So we didn’t.

It was so cold they closed the pool! Was I really going to swim this weekend? Nah, probably not.

So instead, I made lemon cream scones and cleaned out the guest room.

On Saturday, we woke up at 6:00, looked around, decided it was still cold and went back to sleep.

I have not removed my fuzzy slippers from my feet in 48 hours. Oh you can judge; but you know what my toes are? My toes are stinky. And they are also delighted.

I made chocolate covered strawberries to honor the Day of Valentines. No cards will be exchanged, no heart shaped chocolate boxes or flowers.

Maybe just the acknowledgement that a cold weekend in fuzzy slippers is the best Valentine’s weekend.

I do realize we are day 44 into the new year and I am on day 24 of my Delights. In fact, the last time I posted something delightful was 10 DAYS AGO!!!!

This is not to say I have not been delighted or found my daily delights. It is to say however, that I’ve been a bit distracted and my distraction took a bit more energy than I thought it would.

I have started a new job.

That seems silly right? Because my last job was great and I love the people and I love my clients so why???? WHY? WHHHHYYYYYYYYYYYY? Change jobs? Why change jobs during a pandemic when the economy is in the crapper and you have stable employment at a good job?

I have no answers to the why.

But I do know that sometimes you have to do something different. Sometimes you have to take a risk, learn something new, stretch yourself a little further than you have been stretched.

Stretching is hard. Change is hard. Taking a risk is risky.

I used to be much better at change and risk. At 22, I jumped on a plane a flew to Germany with the determination to move there for a bit and become a ski instructor. I cried the whole way to Munich and wondered what the hell I was thinking. But you know what? I got that job. I taught skiing three years and inhaled the world. That time changed my life.

At 30, I took a job consulting that meant I got on a plane every Sunday afternoon and flew to New York to work for one of the largest media companies. The Bertelsmann building on Times Square was the most magnificent building I had ever seen….and I worked there…..on Times Square. I showed up on my first day delightfully over my head.

I got married. I had babies. Surprisingly, the things I had always wanted most were the most risky. Motherhood has been the riskiest, most rewarding chapter in my life. Would I change anything? Never.

This summer my nephews went off the high dive for the first time. Watching them climb that ladder was absolutely terrifying. They stood at the edge of the board; little arms flapping as they bounced. I treaded water below them clapping and encouraging- trying to hide my own anxiety. With one move, they jumped and submerged themselves into the deep end of the pool.

And they popped up. Grinned. Not your regular grin but the ‘I took a risk and it was awesome grin.‘

To jumping in the deep end. To taking a risk. And a bit of a stretch.

Ah. How funny that when I typed the word Friends, I felt my body relax a bit? Ah, Friends. Friends are good. Friends are Delightful.

A friends’ daughter once told her mom that she hopes she has a group of women like her mom when she is older. That was the best compliment ever. And I hope she does.

One of the best things about getting older is getting older with my friends and watching them become super cool adults…..wonky adults with their own sense of style but fabulous none the less. We carry a precious, sacred history and now a deep seated knowledge that we are all here for the long haul. We may have bonded over $2.00 beers and frat parties….been pissy because someone kissed someone else’s love interest but as life evolves, when the poop hits the fan and becomes real; complicated, hard and at times heartbreaking, the bond solidifies.

My friendships bring me delight.

Thank you for making my life delightful.