I was working my way through grief. The waves mellowed in time, but a pervasive sadness arose. I had to find a way out of the sadness. It wasn’t that raw, gut-wrenching grief I was feeling. It was that I had to live the rest of my life without her. I could not imagine not having Grandma. How does one live without someone to share the joy? How does someone live without the peace she brings? How does one find the beauty in life that she brought? How do I go on when the best person on the planet just left me? I could not imagine.

Saturday is usually a day of rest for me. This particular Saturday would not be restful. The day started off with an early morning photo shoot of a particularly glorious mountain range in Torres del Paine in southern Chile. These rugged mountains are softer than the Andes and had experienced a first round of glaciation which left them in odd formations. We walked through a meadow to get to a place where we could photograph them across a massive glacial lake, watching the clouds that billowed about, playing hide and seek with the sun.

Dive into the Healing Waters story from The Waters of the Soul Stories Collection. Explore a poignant journey from shock to healing, illustrating the transformative power of forgiveness, grace, and the healing waters of the soul. Through personal reflection and encounters with life's harsh realities, this narrative offers a deep exploration of emotional healing, the importance of forgiveness, and the gentle strength found in the moments of grace that guide us toward inner peace.

The actually happened, happened to me, one wintry night on the way to Yosemite. It was February 2011, in time for our anniversary, and we heard there was snow in the Valley, making for a perfect weekend of playing in the snow, photographing the glorious beauty of trees laden with snow. We wandered around the house getting ready to go, a couple of giddy kids, so delighted were we to have such a glorious weekend ahead. Where were the snow gloves, the hats, the coats, boots, chains – we would be ready for a weekend of delectable snow!

December flowed over me like a light when it dims, imperceptibly at first, then like a hurtling freight train. A fog had enveloped our valley. A finger of it had wound itself around a lamp post. The light was dimmed. The tea kettle whistling drew my attention to the hour: it was seven o’clock in the morning. Still dark. A half an hour later, a murky greyness appeared at my window. At eight o’clock light descended upon the fog, a silky white now. A soft, swirling white. It was a thick tule fog. This one did not burn off. By four o’clock in the afternoon, the process reversed itself. By five o’clock, a long night had begun.

Our car was packed – in fact to the hilt. Our daughter was wedged between the ice chest and the door. My son’s seven year old legs were propped up on top of one of the sleeping bags. No room was left in the trunk nor the camper shell atop the car. We were headed for banff and lake louise. It was a long way from where we lived. My mind needed a rest. A three week trip to the canadian rockies, camping in the wild seemed just the ticket.

I put the car into park and let it idle. It was October in New York, and the apple harvest was in full swing. We visited an apple farm and went picking: Honey Crisps, Pink Ladies, Red Delicious, and Granny Smiths. We wandered up and down the rows of trees still laden with apples, making our selections. The corn harvest was mostly over, but the stocks still stood tall. What an abundance! We took our finds to the checkout counter, eyeing the squash and pumpkins. More abundance! There were rows of berry preserves. We passed on these. We had our own cooking to do at our vacation rental. We filled the car and headed back up to Slide Mountain.

Five o’clock in the morning is too early to get up anymore for a road trip, so we set our sights on leaving by 10:00 a.m.  Last minute details took us a little longer than expected.  But at last we were on our way from California to Yellowstone National Park.  It was the fall of 2021.

Monday on the islands brought torrential rains to what should have been a balmy day in early September. We stood our ground, determined to make the most of our Hawaii vacation. A museum seemed like a good idea for the day.

The sun was trying to make a way through the cloud cover and occasionally succeeded. We reached for our cameras, chasing the waves with our lenses, hoping the rain that had splattered the windshield on and off this afternoon would hold off for awhile. The surf was creamy with foam. The wind buffeted our hats and whipped our hair. We realized the tide was coming in. The sky was darkening, and a few minutes later large drops of rain began to fall. We decided this lovely deserted beach would have to wait for another day.