Good Mourning Grief

A blog about my adventures as a grief warrior

Tag: #bucketlist

Summer Bucket List Started with Lilac Festival

June 14, 2026 / / 0 Comments

The idea of sipping wine on a sunny patio took a turn this past weekend and didn’t disappoint.

I have been suggesting to my friends that this summer we make a bucket list of ideas we want to do to comfort our grief and celebrate our children. Summer has always been a trigger for our family; it is Zane’s favorite season, his birthday and the anniversary of passing. I used to love this period, now I dread it and, in the desire, to reduce the angst of what our short and beautiful season should be about, I am making a summer bucket list.

Bucket list number one, enjoy Lilac Festival. I used to take the kids down to stroll along fourth street, viewing the artisans’ booths and sampling the food. Zane continued going every year with friends; he loved the energy and vibe of a crowd having fun. Attending would be celebrating him.

Payton and I arrived with the agreement that we would shop and stop for a wine on a sunny patio (a bucket list item). When the clouds rolled in and everyone ran for cover, we ended up in a wine bar.  Seated comfortably at a window table we watched the attendees scatter about in the rain while we sipped a buttery chardonnay and nibbled on appetizers. It was bliss.

When the rain let up, we paid our bill and went on our way to enjoy surprise after surprise. We bumped into Jake and strolled with him. Kelly, the man who found my phone last year on the highway was working a booth with his wife, to which I had the pleasure of meeting and giving both a hug.  (Her business is Modern Whisk and worth checking out!). We had mini donuts, bumped into more friends and ended up on a patio with a group of Zane’s friends in the summer sun, sipping a Jameson-lemonade. Grief took a back seat.

It is such a treat when grief eases. We tend to feel guilty when we catch ourselves smiling, God forbid laughing at life. We are aware that joy is what our loved ones would want for us and yet, we feel more comfortable crying for them, rather than celebrating them.  I think it is the pain of remembering, the belief that they are not here. That thinking is what makes living hard.

We must remember our children are here. Yes, it is painful that they cannot be held physically, but if we wallow in that every moment, we miss out on the signs from them that they are still with us.  Their energy lives on, and when we ask grief to pause so that we may grasp a beautiful moment, we are living for both ourselves and our loved ones. That thinking is what makes grief bearable.

Zane was at Lilac Festival. No coincidence we bumped into his friends, no coincidence there were bubbles around us, balloons floating by and the bar we were at…. his friend told us, “Of course you are sitting at this table, right here.” I asked why and he replied, “this is the table we sat at with Zane on his last Lilac Fest and my last picture of him, I took right here.  He was standing right here.”

I looked over to the spot he was pointing at. I could envision my son, standing there, camera around his neck, drink in his hand. I winked. And he winked back. It’s going to be a beautiful summer.

Bucket List Bound

August 31, 2025 /

When I was a young girl, I was fearless. I jumped off higher ledges than any boy. I drove the go-karts faster than anyone else. I fought for the underdog without any thought I too would be beaten up. I loved to explore everything. I had dreams of far away countries to visit. And then I grew up.

Adulthood, specifically motherhood, brought the realization that I was not invincible.  I now had little people counting on me. I had to be safe. I had to be careful. If there were glimpses of maybe I could be more daring, they were shattered when Zane was killed. His death glued me to the belief that nothing can happen to me because my family really needs me now. It’s not ego that this comes from.  It is pure fear.

So, this upcoming trip to meet my husband and daughter in Ireland has me scared. I hate to travel, but I am now travelling alone, over the ocean. Anxiety is at an all-time high. Nothing about airplane safety, the reassurance from my friends, or my brain telling me it’s going to be ok is comforting.  I asked my Guides for signs. I need spiritual convincing that this trip will be a beautiful earthly experience.

I was cleaning out a box of old journals and one book drew me into opening it and reading some of the passages I wrote from decades ago. Included in it was a bucket list, and on this list was to own a VW beetle. I smiled, remembering the time after that list, when I was looking for a car and wanted a beetle, but it was impractical. It wouldn’t fit my multiple event supplies, or the kids golf clubs. It was Zane who said, “mama, you have always wanted this car. It’s on your bucket list. Get the damn car. Dad can drive our clubs.” I bought the car. It was the same car that I drove all over Alberta and Montana in. It was the same car my children learned to drive in. It was a bucket list item I loved, no regrets.

I continued reading the list. It was simple, motherly things like a home my children felt safe in. A quiet afternoon to enjoy nature. To write a book. And to visit Ireland. I stopped. Ireland? Where did this come from? I don’t remember writing down Ireland. I laughed out loud. 

I think my spirit guides are playing with me. What better sign than to stumble across an old diary page that tells me I wanted to see Ireland. I’m off to Ireland. And I believe with the blessing of the Universe to have a safe and magical holiday.  As only the leprechauns of this fair emerald country can bring.

Time for the Bucket List

July 28, 2024 /

Jon and I had the honor of attending one of Zane’s closest friends’ wedding.  The bride was elegant in a silk white dress, the groom handsome in his blue suit. The floral arrangements were soft pastel colors, the venue was a place they enjoyed a beer together in earlier days. Friends and family gathered to watch them cut the cake and dance to their first song as Mr. and Mrs. All in all, as most weddings go, it was beautiful. The difference with their special day is that the groom is dying of a brain tumor.

Weeks before this day, the groom and I shared a booster juice when he told me the doctors had stopped treatment.  The tumor is growing and there is nothing left to try. We sat quietly sipping our drink, trying to accept this prognosis. I took a deep breath and said, “ok, where’s your bucket list?” He said he did not have one. I said, “well, you better start”. He said, “the doctors suggested there was not a lot of time left.”  I said, “I think that time is all you have now, sweetie.”

On our next visit he shared that he had a couple things he would like to do.  Get married and go to Oregon. I smiled. And as his energy lessened and the seizures began, that is what he did.  He has defied time by placing what is important and planning what he has always dreamed of regardless of how little time he may have left on this earth. And that is what makes him, his life and his wedding day remarkable.

I held his moms’ hand at the wedding. She was experiencing a truly bitter-sweet moment. She was fully aware of the gift this day held. This moment contained pictures and stories and emotions that she will carry in her heart for the rest of her life. And she was aware of the irony this day had. It should be all about happy new beginnings with a bright direction. It should not include a death sentence.

And yet, as you watched this young couple embrace each other on the dance floor, we witnessed the way he gazed into her face, their wedding was like any other wedding. Filled with love. This was the onset of their new path together. It will contain all the expected and unexpected elements that every marriage has. None of us truly know how much time we have together. That night, time was still for them. And as they left the party to go off to their hotel, they took with them the supportive cheers their reception party shouted out and the hope that time might be kind and extend his stay. We still have Oregon to do.

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