My husband Jose died at home on February 1, 2024. His transition to death was just like how he lived, sweet and tender. One day in September 2024 there was something I wanted to tell him and I stopped myself thinking “Oh wait, I can’t because he is not here”. Then I realized that I could tell him, because he is here. I document what I want to tell him so I don’t forget these moments of noticing, remembering and connecting. The Trail Magic page is devoted to appreciation of those folks along the way who have offered moments of generosity, inspiration or unexpected wonder.
We experienced a great deal of trauma within the U.S. healthcare system.
Grief and trauma are not the same thing.
Trauma is dehumanizing and immobilizing.
Grief is humanizing and healing.
Trauma isolates me from myself and separates me from others.
Grief creates intimacy — with myself and with others.
I want to release the veil of trauma and hold sorrow close to my heart.
These writings bring me to that place of aliveness and intimacy cultivated through grief.
Posts
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Love in the Trenches
September 10, 2024 I Want to Tell You…That I am sorry I was so hard. This old blog post keeps rolling through my consciousness: The Good, The Bad & The Beautiful June 16, 2009, 3:25 AM On April 15 Jose had the blackout and fall and CT scan revealing the giant tumor. Since that time…
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This Shit is Real
December 6, 2025 I want to tell you that this shit is real. I have a new home-health client. I had introductory meeting with her and her daughter on Thursday night, and even then, I had a prickle in my gut that something wasn’t right. When I went for my first full day on Saturday,…
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Waiting
May 29, 2025 I want to tell you that your toilet habit fame lives on. Today I went to physical therapy at Movement for Life in Candler. I arrived early and headed straight to the restroom—only to find it occupied. I waited for a bit. Then I realized I was in the way, awkwardly milling…
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Widening the Frame
November 7, 2024 I want to tell you how our daughters are such a healing force in my life. There are many examples, but this is just one. A few days after your funeral, everyone had left—everyone, even Natalie. After over a decade of working and caregiving 80+ hours a week, I suddenly had… nothing.…
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Homecoming
October 23, 2024 Today I am leaving after three days at Advent Hospital. The discharge ritual has me in tears. I pause to recalibrate. I wish I had kept track. Fifty discharges? A hundred? More? I just know it was a fucking lot, and every single one was stressful—the absolute opposite of a healing transition.…
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The Perfect Metaphor
October 11, 2024 I want to tell you how fucking strong we had to be to make it through what we did—for as long as we did. I know you’re not here to see what I see, but it struck me today as I drove through the River Arts District: block after block of trash…
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Wreckage, Revisited
October 10, 2024 I want to tell you that after being in Winston-Salem and returning to Asheville, I was shocked all over again by the ravages of Hurricane Helene. After Helene—no electricity, no phone, no water—and me in the middle of raging C. diff, I high-tailed it to Winston-Salem as soon as the roads opened.…
I Want to Tell You 