Longfellow reminds us that healing comes in waves, my Colorado friends, but it does indeed come.


Those words have been comforting me for years, since my first rendezvous with grief in my late twenties. It happened on a Colorado day in May of ’94, when my young husband’s surprise birthday gift ended in tragedy.


The vintage plane had done all the stunts. Our family friend, a seasoned United pilot, had radio’d that he was going to do a fly-by so they could take pictures before he landed. Instead the plane crashed into the ground — and they were both killed, instantly.

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