Slack pack. The young daughter of a dear friend is claiming her dream and currently hiking the Appalachian Trail. I’m learning a lot from reading her daily journal including what she meant by this term. Slack packing is a team effort that allows the hiker to drop a heavy pack and hike a certain distance with only water and snacks. Another generous party then shuttles the heavy pack to a point farther down the trail for pick up. I have never hiked the Appalachian Trail. Bu

It’s easy to have regrets after losing a loved one. Some regrets are big (why did we let 9/11 scare us away from Italy in 2001?) Some are ridiculous (why didn’t I go to med school so I could have saved him?) And some are smaller, seeping from the fabric of everyday life. My late husband Charles was a music lover with a stone cold memory for any piece of music trivia you could throw out. He could sit down at the piano and just play. When he was a teenager, his family gave

Left hand, two fingers hanging loosely down beside your body in an inverted V – that’s the quick, universal greeting for motorcyclists. Charles and I used to ride and we got a kick out of learning this insider's nod to a passing fellow biker. Writing this brings up memories almost certainly cooler than we actually were, but no matter. Riding was great fun and a good exercise in looking under the helmets and dispelling certain stereotypes. We met and rode with some terrific f

"Fight the band." My trainer at the Y recently said that to me and I told her it sounded like a great name for a rock group. Unfortunately, we were rocking all right, but not in a fun way. She had me wrapped up in one of those stretchy workout bands and the fight was tough. We all have to fight the band in one way or another. Life doesn't always go our way. We encounter resistance and have to push back. We think we've done all we can, only to find that we must devise a way

My husband Charles and I once undertook a daring cat rescue at night in the middle of a busy two lane road. There’s a conversation about it in “Hey, God? Yes, Charles.” and, if you’ve read the book, you know that it was so daring, I ‘bout killed him. The husband, not the cat. Three hundred dollars later we had us one healed sweet, sweet ball of kitty fur, obviously pre-loved and healthy prior to the injuries sustained the night our headlights spotted him lying on the white li

A dear friend experienced a devastating loss in the past week. In a matter of hours, her world shifted irrevocably. Yet, even before the day was over, she was already trying to rise above her sorrow and regret for what might have been. But I hope she allows herself to give in to some of these feelings, at least for a little while. I remember vividly the 13 days my husband Charles lay unconscious in the ICU prior to his death. For 12 of those days, justified or not, I expect

I have received such special responses from so many of you after you’ve read “Hey, God? Yes, Charles.” Each message has then triggered so many thoughts, but none more so than this feeling that I should share the underlying message wrapped in a recent thank you note. A sweet reader wrote, reminding me that she had bought the book for Christmas for her mother who had lost her husband last year. But then she continued. “I took my mom to the beach for a little mother/daughter bo

In loss, I've learned ways to get into a good defensive zone. In life, and basketball though, it can be hard to stay there, and so sometimes I just have to give myself permission to be all over the place. I think that's why I like Spring. It specializes in being jumbled up and there is comfort in common behavior so it doesn't always feel like I have to WORK ON IT. I'm in my ninth year of widowhood. My husband died the Monday after Thanksgiving and that first year was literal