Tag Archive for: #bereavedmom

It’s coming on Christmas…a message of hope

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It’s coming on Christmas

They’re cutting down trees

They’re putting up reindeer 

Singing songs of joy and peace

Oh, I wish I had a river I could skate away on...

So begins “River” written by Joni Mitchell.

It’s a “Christmas song for people who are lonely at Christmas time,” Joni said in an interview in 2021.

I fell in love with Robert Downey Jr’s rendition of this classic on the Ally McBeal: A Very Ally Christmas album, which came out in 1999.

Our daughter Claire LOVED the album’s feature artist, Vonda Shepard. She loved to sing along with many of the artist’s songs, preferring LOUD renditions, and solo. Fun memory of our little reader gone too soon.

“River” takes me back to that first Christmas in 2000 without Claire. So, so hard.

There were many times that all I wanted was to find a river I could skate away on.

Joni Mitchell’s version came on the radio yesterday morning, as I was watching a river of rain flow through our campground outside of Santa Cruz, California.

But it don’t snow here

It stays pretty green

While listening, really listening to the lyrics, the melody had its own meaning in my life. To me, the song didn’t represent loneliness. It reflected my journey through grief.

At some point in those early, hard years, I realized I no longer needed a river to skate away on.

I figured out that no matter how long that river was, I wasn’t going to be able to skate away to escape my pain.

What I really needed was a paddle to navigate the waters of grief, to face all of the emotions I was experiencing.

I wish I had a river so long

I would teach my feet to fly

Through the love and support of Brad, our kids, Kyle and Ian, family, friends, and a whole community, I paddled like hell, to the other side. They all taught my feet to fly, and my broken heart to soar.

As more time passed, I learned to toss the paddle aside and just let go. To let the current and tides take me wherever I was meant to be.

Far from being adrift, I feel as though I’ve let the shore come to me. I feel anchored.

I hope that if you are reading this, and dealing with grief in any form, that my message might offer a bit of hope.

It’s okay if you feel like you need a river to skate away on. I feel you.

It’s okay if you are feeling sad, angry, lonely or really pissed off especially during this time of year. I’ve been there.

I pray that life presents you with the guidance to steer you in the right direction.

And once you get there, that you can just let go.

It’s coming on Christmas

They’re cutting down trees

They’re putting up reindeer 

Singing songs of joy and peace

 

Photo credits: In order; BarbaraALane, Hans, and Starflames, Pixabay

 

 

 

Elemental

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The elements come into play on our travels, whether motoring from one locale to another, or while we are camped out for any period of time.

Such has been the case in traversing from Idaho to Oregon, and then from our stop in Bend to our destination along the coast, Coos Bay.

Our timing on both legs couldn’t have been better. We missed storms moving into Idaho after we left, and we jumped ahead of storms moving through the mountains outside of Bend as we made our way to the ocean.

Idaho Ready: What you need to know about the chain up law ...How to put tire chains on a semi-truckO

Photo credit: Idaho Transportation Department and Schneider Truck website

In the mountains, one is always at risk of snow and ice. The signs along the way, noting “Chains Required When Flashing” are a bit disconcerting. Chains help vehicles grab the ice and snow for traction. Kind of like crampons for huge trucks. Fortunately we never had the warning flashing lights, for we didn’t invest in chains.

We would have had to turn back.

On our travels from Bend to Coos Bay, Route 58 between Route 97 and State Highway 5 was an absolutely beautiful trek, with Odell Lake and the Willamette River running alongside. Willamette Pass was a little nerve-wracking, with a decent amount of snow on the ground. But the roads were clear and dry.

Here is a glimpse at how the elements came into play on our adventures in Oregon…

Fire

Any opportunity to jump into our kayaks and paddle is a blessing, and such was the case in Bend. The kind folks at the outfitter, Tumalo Creek, directed us to a nice launching dock on the Deschutes River. They instructed us to paddle our way a couple of miles up river, then enjoy the current on the way back.

So what does a fun paddle on the Deschutes have to do with fire? In 1990, the Awbrey Hall Fire burned along the western flank of the city, jumping three major highways and destroying 22 homes and 3500 acres. Had we been able to continue paddling up river, we would have been near the Deschutes River Woods division that suffered the most damage.

We had a lovely evening catching up with a high school friend of Brad’s, Eric Davenport and his wife, Lynn. We visited them over ten years ago while traveling through Bend with our kids. The years dropped away as we hiked their property with Eric. In the distance, the view was hazy, from prescribed fires set to manage the forests. The photo below is from a Facebook page keeping residents advised of both controlled burns and wildfires.

After the hike we enjoyed a delicious dinner prepared by Eric, then warmed by their Russian fireplace in the center of their beautiful open family room/kitchen. The fireplace is highly efficient and beautiful. I sat on the hearth for a bit…it was quite toasty. The fun evening ended entirely too soon, but we were leaving early the next morning for Coos Bay.

Air

We’ve been blessed to be hunkering down at the Sun Outdoors Campground in Coos Bay. Our site is just 50 yards from the beach and ocean. It has rained the entire time we’ve been here, and the winds have been a gusting! The motorhome is shaking as I’m writing this, the winds howling up to 45 miles an hour.

We haven’t let the stationery front stop our fun…enjoying hikes on the beach in the mornings with Luna, and exploring the towns and coast over the last few days. We even took in a fun “Wine Walk” sponsored by the local Rotary Club in Coos Bay.

But, oh that wind. And Rain! This photo doesn’t nearly capture how angry the elements seem to be…the air howling, the waves crashing, the sand and rain drops pelting our skin. But hey, it could be snowing, right?

Water 

I never tire of being by water. The ocean, especially in storms, takes water to a whole different level. We marveled at a brave paddle boarder navigating the waves in a cove near our campground. The waves crashing against rocks at Cape Arago State Park at the tail-end of Route 540 were mesmerizing.

But, water can be deadly. We learned about King Tides, which occur along the Oregon coast when the Earth, sun, and moon are all aligned. The huge tidal waves occur about once a month…we just missed them when we arrived. A woman we met on the beach intrigued us with stories of people being swept out to sea from king tides. Note to self…don’t turn your back on the water during king tides. Yikes.

Earth

From water to earth…we were fascinated by the huge Bull Kelp that washed up on the beach near the campground. We could see the “holdfasts” that attach to submerged rocks out in the ocean. They reminded me of characters in the Pirates of the Caribbean! The stranded jelly fish always make me a bit sad…and we saw our fair share on the beach as a result of the rollicking tides. Luna was wise to avoid them on our beach hikes.

The last picture, of the Stellar, or Northern Sea Lions hanging out on the rock and in the waters along the coast of Cape Arango State Park, has a story. Or rather, what you don’t see in the picture offers story.

The tide was coming in as we watched the sea lions, captivated by their defiance of the force of water. The sea creatures were barking and crying away…trying to avoid losing their position on the rock to the hundreds waiting in the water. I thought it was a territorial thing, until I looked to where they kept casting their gaze.

There, on a rock below them, still, motionless was another Stellar sea lion. This creature did not move for the fifteen minutes we stood and watched. But the other sea lions did, seemingly agitated, moving back and forth on that rock, looking to the sea, then back to their newly departed friend.

Through my experiences and research in the past, I knew in my heart what was going on.

I looked up at Brad with tears in my eyes and said, “I think they are grieving.”

Brad squeezed my hand and gave me a big hug.

A touching end to adventures that provided us with many goosebump moments among the elements.

 

Alright, Alright, Alright

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My youngest brother, Gordie, recommended we listen to Matthew McConaughey’s memoir, Greenlights on our travels. I was a bit hesitant, as I thought the actor was rather self-absorbed. I mean, what could I learn from a man who made a name for himself running on beaches and showing off his six-pack abs?

Plenty.

The timing was perfect to listen to the story, narrated by none other than Matthew himself. (We came to know each other on a first-name basis through the journey.)

Brad and I had quite a few road hours on our travels from Nashville and onto Branson. Throw in a little unplanned side trip to Red Bay, Alabama for a quick repair, and the roughly 6 1/2 hour audiobook helped pass the miles.

Our trip to Red Bay required an overnight stay where we were not intending to be. Matthew would summarize this situation by saying, “Greenlights.” In other words, green lights mean go. But sometimes in life, the green lights might change on us, causing us to redirect. And as life plays out, we end up with a Greenlight we weren’t expecting. Such was the case with our Harvest Hosts overnight stop at a little farm and orchard along the way. I’ve never camped in such a quiet, peaceful spot. Until the neighboring rooster woke us up early the next morning.

“The problems we face today eventually turn into blessings in the rearview mirror of life,” Matthew offered.

Greenlight.

Our view at Blessed Bounty orchard, an unexpected overnight.

I was surprised to learn that Matthew spent several years traversing in a van and Airstream trailer that he customized. He named the trailer Canoe, in honor of his visit to the Squamish Nation reservation in Vancouver. The tribe gave him a handmade oar, a symbol of the tribe.

Matthew said, “The oar guides the canoe, guides you through life—so I named the Airstream the Canoe. I mean, the highways are like riverways, they’re just concrete.” 

Our oar was guiding us to a place that was on both of our radars for some time; Branson, Missouri.

Branson

We stayed the week at Table Rock State Park, just fifteen minutes from the city of Branson. The lake is absolutely gorgeous, with a huge marina and a several-mile hiking trail around the perimeter. Over the weekend, a huge Bass Fishing Tournament, sponsored by Toyota happened on the lake. We’d wake up in the morning with the sounds of the National Anthem being sung to send the fishermen off for the day, and hear the announcements of the daily divisional winners in the evening. Top prize? $200,000!

The marina at Table Rock State Park, the Showboat Branson Belle and sunset at the park.

We wanted to take in a show, and at the recommendation of a friend, went to see Reza, an illusionist. Reza’s huge acts were amazing, but his smaller tricks were simply mind-boggling. I would have gotten a picture of him, but he kept disappearing.

Where did Reza go?

A huge bonus was catching up with a dear high school friend. Hannah Spotts and her husband Mike, who joined us for dinner at the campground. It was such a fun and lovely evening. Hannah recommended we visit one of her favorite places in the area…

Dogwood Canyon

Johnny Morris, owner of Bass Pro Shops and Cabela’s founded this extraordinary 10,000 acre conservation area with hiking and biking trails, trout fishing, and horseback riding. Tickets to the tram are extra, but the bonus is at the top. We enjoyed our close encounters with the herd of bison, including a rare White American Bison.

Brad and I also had a blast playing the Mountain Top 9-hole golf course, and taking in lunch at Arnie’s Barn afterwards. My drink of choice? An Arnold Palmer, of course.

Salina

Salina, Kansas was definitely a Greenlight. We stayed/played at the Salina Municipal Golf Course, which is one of the nicest muni golf courses we’ve ever played. Luna had a blast joining us during the round, and was quite chill afterwards while we had dinner on the patio at Ya Yas.  We took a nice stroll through the surprising downtown. Fun!

Rafter W Ranch

Our last stop before hitting Denver was yet another Harvest Hosts site…Rafter W. Ranch. We camped out in their field, away from their grass-fed cattle, and enjoyed hiking the property. We picked up some steaks before we left the next morning, on to our next adventures.

We finished listening to the audiobook, and could relate to this quote from Greenlights.

“We cannot fully appreciate the light without the shadows. We have to be thrown off balance to find our footing. It’s better to jump than fall. And here I am.”

Thank you, Matthew for your insights, your stories, your inspiration. We aspire to Just Keep Livin‘.

And we’re doing Alright, Alright, Alright.

 

Sweet Coast

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Some call the stretch of coastal Florida from the towns of Carrabelle to Seaside the Forgotten Coast. It’s also known as the Gulf Coast.

I’d call it the Sweet Coast. With it’s sugary beaches and laid-back vibe, it was just what my soul needed.

My friend Margie gave us a lovely book as a Bon Voyage gift. The Most Scenic Drives in America should live on everybody’s coffee table. The images alone will make you want to pack a bag and head off on an adventure. Route 98, the drive along this coast of Florida is one of the featured routes. Tall pines flanked the roadway, with glimpses of the Gulf occasionally peering through.

I booked two nights at a campground directly off Route 98…the Ho-Hum RV Park. Yep, you read that correctly. This campground prides itself on its simplicity. When you rent a spot at the park, you get your water, sewer and electric hookups, a beach, a pier and a few nice porch swing chairs to view the Gulf. Each morning I took my coffee and watched the dolphins play in the water. How much better does it get?

This is what I woke up to each morning at the Ho-Hum RV Park. Far from Ho-Hum!

Well, seeing dolphins from a distance isn’t nearly as fun as seeing them up close. So, yes, it did get better as Brad and I jumped in the kayaks and frolicked with the playful creatures just off the coast of where we were camped.

We slowed our roll as we spent the few days reading, relaxing and exploring the area a bit. We drove to the little town of Carrabelle. The large marina featured charter boats in search of local fish…tarpon, grouper and red snapper (my favorite!).  We were hungry when we arrived in Apalachicola. The law mandates that no building can be taller than three stories, which made for a comfy feel to the town.

I love vibrant, active old downtowns, and Apalachicola definitely has it going on. Lots of retail, including several shops in converted old cotton warehouses. The seafood restaurants looked enticing, but as we had Luna with us, we opted for Tamara’s On the Go food truck. With a bright yellow exterior and adorable courtyard tucked around the truck, it was perfect to chill with Luna. The chef created a delicious gluten free gyro salad for me. Yum.

We drove the rest of the route, passing by St. Andrews State Park (we hiked here later in the week) and into our next destination, Panama City Beach. Our campground, Sun Outdoors Panama City Beach, was right next door to Zoo World. One morning I was greeted by their resident giraffe as she poked her head over the tall fence, as if to say hello. I woke at daybreak one day to the sounds of lions roaring their morning greeting.

Route 98 isn’t as pretty in Panama City Beach. The stretch is filled with kitschy family activities…putt-putt, go-karts and more discount beach stores than you can count. We did enjoy taking Luna to the small section of beach where dogs are allowed. Pier Park Dog Beach extends from the pier to a short distance away. Strong winds brought riptides, so we kept Luna close to the edge. We walked around the fun outdoor Pier Park Shopping Complex after to let our pup dry off. 🙂  We loved watching a young woman zig and zag while rollerblading on the streets, bopping away to the music piping outside of the stores.

Our daughter Kyle encouraged us to drive from Route 98 to Highway 30A and discover the towns along the way. Her husband Will’s family spent many summer vacations in Rosemary Beach when he was a boy. Will whisked Kyle to  the town for a weekend getaway, and she fell in love with this charming town. Serendipitously, Brad’s second cousin Jane, and her husband Gary, were renting a home in the neighboring town of Seaside during our time in the area. We went from kitschy to kismet!

Out of all the areas that we’ve ventured to over the years, I can honestly say I’ve never seen such a unique place. Each of the towns, Alys Beach, Rosemary Beach and Seaside were well-planned and restrictive on their building codes. Think of Hilton Head on steroids.

Our first stop was Seaside to visit Jane and Gary. Each of the homes have names on their white picket fences. Pebbled pathways wind through the community, from the adorable square filled with shops ranging from a book store to a market with delectable edibles.

Hanging out on the outside second-level porch of Jane and Gary’s rental. Heaven.

The community church hosted a wedding the Saturday evening we were there. As the church sits amongst the quaint homes, there is a strict sound ordinance. No music after 9 PM. Perfect timing for us…we had just come back to the rental house after a dinner at the fun and delicious Café Thirty-A. The four of us decided to take Luna and their pup, Bear, out for an evening walk. When the wedding band struck up “An American Girl” as their last hurrah, I couldn’t resist. I hung out on the outskirts of the crowd, dancing away. Life is too short…dance when you can!

We had such a great time with Jane and Gary. They’ve been coming to the area for years from their home in New Orleans, so we were in excellent hands for travel guides. We took many walks, ventured to the farmer’s market Saturday morning, and hung out at the beach one afternoon. They even joined us for a cookout at the coach!

Brad and I ventured on a bike ride through Rosemary Beach. The town had a European feel to it, with it’s cobblestone streets and town square

Biking in Rosemary Beach and the town square.

Before our time in this area was just a memory, we drove to Econfina Creek, a spring fed, quiet waterway. We got a great workout paddling up stream, then turning around and floating on the return. We packed a lunch, and unlike the borrowed photo below, we didn’t see a soul. So, once again, YOLO, so what does one do in a secluded creek to cool down? I felt like a kid again as I dove into the water, naked as a jaybird, and jumped out just as fast. That water was dang cold.

Photo credit: Lori Ceier/Walton Outdoors

Our travels are winding down…but adventures still await in Dora and Red Bay, Alabama. Stay tuned, and thanks for coming along on our journey.

 

Brother, lost and found

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The last time I saw my oldest brother Kevin was the morning after my daughter’s wedding, this past June. Brad and I hosted a brunch for family, and Kevin and his new wife, Bobbie were able to join us before they took off for their several-day drive back to their home in Lincoln, Nebraska.

It was rather amazing that Kevin came to the wedding, because, well, as we’ve always said, “Kevin is Kevin.” In other words, you just never knew whether he would show up or not. But, when it came to the BIG events, Kevin was there, sliding into home last minute. And when he made an appearance, Kevin was all in.

When a week after the official wedding RSVP deadline passed and we had not heard from Kevin as to whether they could join us for the joyous occasion, I tried to reach out to him. I texted, I called, and left messages. Finally, days later, I heard from him.

“Hey, sis, what’s up?” Kevin asked.

“Well, we’re hoping that you both will be able to come join us at Kyle’s wedding on June 4,” I said.

“Yeah, I think we can do that.”

Not exactly the vote of confidence I was hoping for.

“That’s awesome,” I said. “So, part of the RSVP was to choose what you would like to eat at the reception.”

“Okay, kiddo (I loved that nickname) what are my choices?”

Without hesitation, I responded, “At this stage, Mcdonald’s.”

I’ll forever miss his hearty laugh, and his big shit-eating grin I imagined from the other end.

Kevin, always the protective big brother. He’s 7 and I’m 2 in this picture

On Saturday, September 10, Kevin left us just as he made his appearances throughout the years, suddenly, without fanfare and on his own terms.
He was just 66 years old.

Kevin filled his shoes well as the oldest, and as the youngest sister, I think he felt compelled to teach me important life skills throughout the years. How to survive guerilla warfare that involved him digging a massive hole in the ground and standing on the far side of its opening, covered by weeds and grass, to see if I’d actually fall in. Kevin and my other older siblings, Karen and Jeff, spiced up the situation to challenge me to outrun our visiting friend, Gwen Thees out to the garden.

I won and lost if you get the picture. I’ll never forget the images of all of them standing above me, as I was literally up to my shoulders in a hole.

This was the infamous Radio Flyer, before the grand adventure that follows…

Or, rigging up the Radio Flyer wagon filled with library books, tethered by a rope to the minibike Kevin drove like a madman to get to the bookmobile. Kevin and older brother Jeff were on the minibike, younger brother Greg and I were wedged in with the books in the wagon, youngest brother Gordie was tied up behind the wagon on his tricycle (who thought up this scheme????) and older sister Karen rode along on her bike to supervise. We lost Gordie at the first turn and turned him over to the neighbors. Soon after, as the wagon wove back and forth, Greg had a look in his eye that said, “It’s either you or me” and bailed out of the wagon. With the shift in the weight distribution, the wagon flipped, and somehow, I was trapped underneath, books scattering all over, and my back getting dragged against the asphalt. I still have remnants of scars from the small pebbles and black tar of the hot country road.

And then there was the time that he rebelled and ran from mom as she came after him with the wooden handled hairbrush that she whacked us with when we got out of line. I’ll never forget the rest of us, standing looking out the front window as he ran, cheering, “Run, Kevin, run!!” He taught me to be a survivor, and that sometimes there was a path to resistance.

Kevin enlisted in the Army and left for boot camp soon after graduating from high school. I was only in 8th grade but felt his absence every night at the dinner table, and when the cookies all disappeared, we didn’t have Kevin to collectively blame anymore. I remember a time when he came for a visit when I was a senior in high school. He was shooting pool in the basement, the glow of the fluorescent light suspended above offering a halo effect around the table. I sat on the basement steps, my hands cupped under my chin, lamenting that I couldn’t wait until I turned eighteen.

“Wait a minute, sis. Don’t be in such a hurry. When you turn eighteen, you’re going to want to be 21, and when you’re 21, you’re going to wish you were 18 all over again.”

Kevin’s wisdom was the greatest lesson in just enjoying the moment that I ever got.

Then he proceeded to teach me how to shoot pool. Left-handed. I never realized that, as a southpaw, Kevin taught me his way, until years later when Brad noticed while we were out with friends playing 8-ball.

As I got older, Kevin taught me important social and gaming skills. Throwing darts at his local watering hole, the Winking Lizard in Cleveland. Being able to hold my own, whether in a crowd or in a crowd drinking beer. How to come prepared for a white-water rafting trip when it rains all weekend. Sleeping upright in a car never felt so good.

When the kids came, Kevin became the “fun uncle” (our son Ian’s observations) and since he was working in Toledo for a time, was never more present in my life than during their early childhood years. Or, should I say, never more present up until that point. When Claire died, I’ll never forget his huge bear hug when he made it into town for the funeral. He always had such big hugs.

Months later, we all gathered together as a family to celebrate the nuptials of younger brother Greg and his Lisa. Our hearts were still collectively breaking over our loss of Claire, but, true to form, we held on to each other, told stories, and rallied. It’s the Zeigler way.

Greg and Lisa’s wedding, September 2000.

Kevin moved to Lexington, then to Colorado, and eventually to Nebraska. We didn’t see or hear from Kevin much when he was out West, but when mom and dad died, he came home.
I’m so glad he made it for our daughter’s wedding. We had one more chance to joke together, take pictures together, and tell stories together.

With my brothers celebrating my daughter Kyle’s wedding to Will Letton on June 4, 2022.

You just never knew if Kevin would show up, but when he did, he was all in.

We lost Kevin way too soon.

As we gathered on October 15 to memorialize Kevin, my siblings and I, along with Kevin’s wife Bobbie and extended family, shared our collective remembrances. The stories rolled, as did our laughter and tears. We searched through old photo albums, recalling shared adventures.

Throughout the weekend, I felt like my memories became full color as we sifted through black-and-white photos.

I’ll never forget what he taught me.

And I still shoot pool left-handed.

Rest in peace Kevin.

Just a moment podcast

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I had the privilege of being featured in a podcast created by my friend, Chrys Peterson.

The podcast shares inspirational stories of individuals whose lives changed in just a moment.

To hear how mine changed, click the link below.

https://chryspeterson.com/episode-3-rewriting-your-story-after-unbearable-loss/

Chosen

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It was an honor and pleasure to be interviewed by Debbie Gonzalez for her podcast. Debbie inspired me through her inciting questions about love, loss, and celebrating life. More so, she suggests that I was chosen for my path, an incredible thought. Here’s to all who have guided and supported me on my journey. You were chosen as well.

Check out her debcast here: http://www.debbiegonzales.com/the-debcast-epsiodes/2019/12/29/ep34-never-deny-an-opportunity-at-first-glance-with-julie-rubini

A tribute to my kids

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As I begin to write this, my cell phone flashes 3:33.

I wake up constantly to this same time, almost to the point that I think my circadian rhythms are aligning to this number.

What it symbolizes to me is that I have 3 kids, always 3 kids.

I have one who is no longer physically present in my life.

And, I have two others who are. I thank God every day for them.

I’m grateful they are not only in my life, but they embrace me being in theirs.

I’ve got to admit that there were times when they were teenagers that I never thought I’d get to where we are now, but I’m so grateful for the journey.

I’d always say to them that it wasn’t easy being a good kid, any more than it was being a good parent. Especially under our circumstances.

It is hard to set limits, to offer structure and to offer guidance as a parent. As a bereaved parent, I often had to do the same for myself, to be the best version of myself when at times, all I wanted to do was to crawl back into bed.

Our daughter Kyle, 26, and our son Ian, 24, gave me reason not to.

And, to not only get my butt out of bed, but to be present in their lives.

To embrace the moments, all 525, 600 of them each year, because I knew all to well and tragically that there’s no guarantee for the next. For any of us.

Now having weathered the toughest times together, we all enjoy the results of our efforts.

And what a joy they are.

From the phone calls “just to chat” to concerts, museums, travels and visits all together as a family whenever we can tuck them in, each is such a blessing.

Kyle gave me a special Christmas gift this year, one where we exchange notes with each other, following writing prompts. Her words bring tears as she reflects on how I’ve inspired her, why she’s proud of me, and what she hopes for me.

Ian offered the same to me last Mother’s Day, in typing a letter on an old typewriter he has.

Just as their words have touched my heart, I hope mine touch theirs.

Love you Kyle and Ian!