Recap

 

It's been just over six months.  I can't believe it.  It seems surreal to me when I think about it.  How can it be real?  How did that actually happen?  And now it's February and the days keep coming and I keep moving.  Before this happened, I often wondered how people keep living when they lose someone close to them.  As it turns out, living just happens.  The days pass by and I don't get to do any of them over again.  No mulligans.  Might as well make the most of each one.

It's a bit late, but I thought I would do my annual year-in-review for the rollercoaster shit show that was 2025.

January: Scott and I spent the month in Mexico and decided it would be our last trip down there.  We had been going there for over ten years, and decided it was time for a change.  On the drive back to the states, we got held up by the Sinaloa cartel and robbed for 10,000 pesos.  Fun times.  

February: Scott and I spent the month in southern Arizona and bought a rundown mess of a fixer-upper for a bargain-basement price.  By "rundown mess of a fixer-upper," I mean a single-wide trailer built in 1974 that had a home-owner-built addition added onto it at some point.  It was a rental for a long time.  The maintenance was lacking.  It had been on the market for a while.  I think most people were scared of the amount of work it needed.  Not us.  For us it was perfect.  The plan was to remodel it and use it as our winter retreat.  It was cheap.  We could do the labor to fix it up.  We loved the town where it was located.  It was perfect, and we were excited about this new adventure.  

March: Before I returned home, I got to spend my birthday dinner with my best friend for the first time since probably high school.  It was wonderful!  I flew home and went back to work.  Scott stayed in Arizona for a few more weeks and kept working on the house.

April: Spring training for my bike tour in July kicked into high gear.  So much cold and wind.  Scott came home and threw himself into all the work he had scheduled.  He was excited to get back to work after finally healing from four surgeries in three years.  His body was recovered, healthy, and strong, and he enjoyed his return to construction.  He was happier than I had seen him in a long time.

May:  Work and spring training continued to dominate my schedule.  I was relishing in the warmer days with less wind for my training rides.  Scott worked six or often seven days a week, happy with his new shoulders, bicep, and knee, thrilled to be able to make money again after so much time off.

June: Scott and I took a trip to Oregon to meet up with Scott's sister, Kim, and her husband.  We were there to spread the ashes of Scott and Kim's parents.  The trip was great.  The spreading of the ashes went off mostly without issue (you can read my blog titled "Ashes" if you want the whole story).  We also celebrated our 17th wedding anniversary by disappearing into our favorite wilderness for a few days.  I rode my gravel bike 60 miles in, and Scott drove in with the doggies and met me.  We camped by the river and enjoyed the forest magic.

July: My mom received a diagnosis of dementia at the beginning of July.  We had seen the signs for a while, but now it was official.  My mom and I have a close relationship, and I was heartbroken.  I didn't know what the future looked like at that point, but I knew things would change.  On a positive note, after months of training, it was finally time for me to leave for Colorado for my two-week bike tour.  It was more than I ever could have imagined (if you want more, I wrote a blog for every day of the tour.  Look back for anything titled "Colorado Epic" and you can read all about each day).  I returned home from the trip on Monday, July 28.  I was riding high on endorphins and pure joy.  And then the wheels fell off the train.

August: On Saturday, August 2, my husband of 17 years died.  I woke up that morning to find him lying on his back in bed.  I thought he was still sleeping.  He looked so peaceful.  His eyes were closed; his face was relaxed.  I touched his chest.  He was so cold.  I shook him.  Called his name.  Rubbed his sternum.  This can't be happening.  I called 911 as I started CPR.  The paramedics arrived quickly, but I knew in the back of my mind that it was too late.  My husband was dead.  All of our plans, our upcoming adventures, our future together, died with him.  I had no idea how to move forward and couldn't imagine what the rest of my life would look like.  And time kept passing.

September: Scott and I, along with Shannon, Brett and Lisa, had planned to do a river trip in mid-September.  I still wanted to go to honor Scott, and thankfully, Shannon, Brett, and Lisa all agreed to go with me.  It was a turning point in my healing process.  The magic of the river and the forest softened the edges of my shattered heart and helped me see a path forward.  That week on the river was one of the most influential components of my healing process.

October: The rage finally caught up with me.  I kept hearing that anger was part of grief, but silly me, I thought I would skip that stage.  Boy oh boy, was I wrong.  Realizations and epiphanies flew at me like hailstones on a freeway, pelting me relentlessly until I thought I would be torn into ribbons of flesh and fragments of bone.  

November: Through the grief, the long sleepless nights, the infinite sadness and relentless rage, Shannon was there.  He always answered when I called.  On the night I was up until 2:00 a.m. throwing up, Shannon stayed on the phone with me and told me ridiculous stories to make me laugh.  He listened to me cry, he heard my anger, he helped me find happiness amidst the pain.  Through all of this, we found a memory care facility near my brother that had a vacancy for my mom.  We made the difficult decision to move her into the facility, knowing it would be safer for her to be there, knowing she would have the care she needs, and knowing in our hearts it was the right thing to do.  It was also tremendously hard.  

December: On December 2, I made yet another heart-wrenching decision.  This time, it was to have my 18-year-old cat, Lily, put to sleep.  Her health had been declining for a while and she was losing weight.  I couldn't watch her suffer any longer.  It was time.  Shannon was there with me, once again offering a shoulder and kind words.  Ok, I thought.  This has to be it.  That's three.  Everything comes in threes and that's three.  Scott dying, my mom moving into the memory center, and now Lily.  That has to be it.  Once again, I was wrong.  On December 17, in the early hours of the morning, Shannon's phone rang.  We stood there, rubbing the sleep from our eyes as we listened to the police officer on the other end of the line.  "Shannon, I am so sorry.  I hate to do this over the phone."  Long pause.  "Your son, Clayton, was killed last night."

I struggle to find words to follow that sentence.  It still makes me speechless.  All I could do was offer my shoulder to Shannon, and I did the best I could.  I helped him navigate all the things I had to navigate after Scott died.  I was there to listen, to talk on the long sleepless nights, to help him find a bit of happy amidst all the pain as he did for me for so many months.  Christmas?  New Year's Eve?  They were just days on the calendar this time around.  

Now it's mid-February of 2026.  Two months since Clayton died.  Six and a half months since Scott died.  I could never have imagined I would be here, with all this heavy, all this sadness and grief and anger and pain.  And yet.  Amidst it all there is happy, there is joy, there is love, and there is hope.  I don't know what 2026 has in store, and I've given up on trying to guess.  All I can do is live each day as best as I can, because that's all I can do.