Edge of A Cliff Hope ~ This is a sort that will appear in my book, “A Hundred Lifetimes,” in the Chapter, “Monumental Truths.” I’m sharing a little bit. This post is dedicated to anyone battling fear, anxiety, uncertainty and just plain unsettled. It’s for the people in my tribe. It’s for the grieving momma’s. It’s especially for anyone grieving. And it’s inspired by an author who is bravely sharing her heartbreaking journey of loss, Elizabeth Gilbert. I traveled last week to Grand Junction, Colorado. The trip was not planned. It was the universe working. I spent a week listening to another grieving momma tell her story. I sat with her in the cemetery where her daughter’s body, that she grew, will lay rest far past a Hundred Lifetimes. I didn’t know how I would support another woman, whose grief was all-encompassing. I’m a train-wreck too. What could I offer this momma? My sister talks about the immediate days after I was taken home from the hospital. She was my caretaker. My son, her nephew was gone. My nephew, another woman’s son...gone. Sister thought that I needed candles, journals, my favorite book, #steeringbystarlight She will tell you what she quickly realized was none of those things were touched. She will tell you we went through what seemed like an entire mountain of Kleenex boxes. An entire canyon of patience, tears, and breathing. So, this was the second place I was taken to; this n the journey of another momma’s grief. I think she called it “sightseeing.” But, I believe she comes here to look for hope too. I found Hope here. I finally found a place large enough, beautiful enough, scary enough, to place my grief. I stood on mountains and rocky cliffs. Over and over. Each time, I asked the Universe to please let me leave my grief here. For just awhile. And I took pictures of the places I left my grief last week. Because this trip was made as a labor of love. To just listen. And to walk a mountainous journey with a fellow grieving mother. I know so much more than I did a week ago. I was reminded how important listening is to other’s who are just surviving, hurting, on the edge of a cliff heartbroken. And I know my grief is safe here.