I like to remember her this way. It was a difficult time for all of us, we had just lost our mother. It  happened so fast. Diagnosed in April, 2010, and gone by August. Cheryl was living with mom at the time. An arrangement that worked for both of them. She was going through difficult times, and it seemed to bring some stability, and camaraderie, for both of them.  It was lucky for all of us that she was able to live with mom while going through what cancer treatment they could offer. All four of us sisters did our part, but having her there with mom was a gift.

I spent a lot of time going back and forth from Milwaukee to my mom's place near Sheboygan. Especially towards the end. And afterwards, when we had to empty out the apartment, which took weeks. This photo is from the final day of cleaning house. We were exhausted, a bit giddy from the stress of it all.

I was worried about her landing on her feet after all of this. She had always encompassed a fragility that was hard to explain. But, fortunately, she did okay, for a pretty long while.  Having gone through all the trauma of losing our mom, I tried to make it a point to get together with Cheryl regularly.  We would meet halfway between Sheboygan and Milwaukee.  Go for coffee. I was teaching her to crochet, and she was picking it up pretty well. Sometimes we would meet at a park, and have a picnic of sorts. 

Eventually things got a little tougher for her, but she hung on. Her sons had families, and she adored her grandchildren. There were good times, troubled times. Eventually, she had a health issue that caused a form of paralysis, and she could no longer walk. Barely use her arms. She entered a care home. She managed to maintain a pretty positive attitude, most days. But the past year her health deteriorated. And tonight, at 11:05 pm she passed away.

Even though it was expected eventually, it's still a shock. It's hard to believe my oldest sister is gone. It's going to take some time to process this. I'm glad she isn't in pain anymore. I hope she's walking in sunshine, wherever she is. Sure and steady. Trouble-free.

I spend a great deal of time in nature. At local parks, preserves, nature sanctuaries. I find these spaces calming, peaceful, mentally and physically exhilarating and comforting. A walk in the woods, around a park lagoon, along a boardwalk, helps to quiet the mind, refresh the soul.  Most often, on a walk, I will come upon a park bench. One with a memorial plate.  A dedication to someone who no longer walks this earth. But whose essence remains, just the same.  Someone loved that person enough to buy space on a bench to honor them. And, likely, to be able to visit that park bench, sit down, and feel their presence once more.

My parents died many years apart. But both had wished to be cremated when they died. And to have their ashes scattered upon a river up north, in a park that meant a great deal to them in their younger years.
We honored those wishes, both times.  Made the trek five hours north, and scattered their ashes as requested.  The moments were special, and memorable, of course.  

But years later, more than a decade, from time to time, I feel a need to visit them.  I have made the trip a couple times, to that river up north. And spent time on the bridge from which their ashes fell. But it's a journey not easily made in a moments notice. 

I tell myself it doesn't matter. That I can feel near to them by opening a photo album, listening to a special song, or re-imagining a special moment or memory. But sometimes, I feel the need to find a peaceful spot,  to sit, reflect. Maybe even talk to them. Out loud. 

Sometimes I talk to them when I'm driving in my car. Sometimes I drive by my mothers old apartment, just to see if her aura resonates there. Sometimes I visit old cemeteries and talk to them as I walk the paths of gravestones, songbirds singing overhead. Even though they aren't buried there, in my mind there is still some otherworldly connection. Cemeteries are where we bury the dead. But aren't they really there for the living? For those the deceased leave behind? So we can visit them, somehow.

I know I'm not alone in this. Lots of people are cremated, and their ashes scattered in far away places. Some people go missing, and never return. Some die in foreign lands and cannot be returned, or cannot be returned to. Whatever the situation, I've no doubt that the loved ones left behind yearn for a touchstone, a place to be quiet, and imagine a continued connection.

Grief is a difficult thing. It eases over time, but it never truly leaves you. So, I have this fantasy of a memorial bench in every park, meant for anyone who grieves another. Who grieves the loss of a loved one. A place where they can sit and be with their thoughts and memories, and feel the essence of that missing soul nearby.  I suppose it really doesn't matter if there is a memorial plate on the bench. A name, or a message, a poem, or quote. Every park bench could be considered a memorial bench.  Except those signs do mean something. They say to the world that this is a memorial bench. That this is a special place. That this person should be remembered. Is remembered. And your lost loved one deserves to be remembered, too. 

So much of what I do creatively is done solo.  I hike, photograph nature, write lyrics, play ukulele. I share my photographs in a few different ways, sing my songs on occasion for others.  But the actual creative part is so often done alone.

In the fall of 2020 we were all so isolated.  Thanks to Covid-19 we were spending even more time alone than we were used to.  It was at this time that I invited my sister to join me in a project.  I asked her to be my photographic muse.  She said Yes!  I was so excited.  We decided on a location to shoot and film, Spirit Lake Nature Preserve.  Just the name of the preserve was inspiring.  I had been there before, and I knew that there were big stands of pine trees, and I thought they might be the perfect spot for our afternoon of creativity.

I ended up writing a new song for this project, with a different sound than my usual little ukulele folk songs.  I recorded it and sent it along to my sister for her thoughts.  She liked it!  We talked a bit about costumes.  I made her a crown of leaves and flowers, she brought a cape, and a gorgeous long green dress.

In my mind I could picture her character running through the woods.  She's a runner, so she was up for it.
I'm not sure I was ever as excited for a project.  She has a natural flair for acting, so I knew she would be great.  And on the day we scheduled to film the weather was perfect. Sunny, not too warm.  We would be under the cover of the pines, so there wouldn't be any trouble with light. ​

We drove to the location.  There was no one else there.  We had the woods all to ourselves. And for about two hours it was bliss!  We shot video scenes, did a photo shoot.  She ran barefoot across the pine needles through the woods.  Things just fell into place.  And when we were done I couldn't wait to get home to edit it all together.  

And though it was an absolute beginner project, I have to say that I'm so happy with how it turned out. Her performance, the song, the photography.  I had only done a couple music video projects before, so I was just learning. But it was so much fun putting it all together.  A true learning experience.  I can't wait to collaborate with her again.  So, let me just say, Thank you, Laura. You're amazing.​