The Heart Behind Journey Beyond Loss

I am over sixty, and my life has been a tapestry of both deep joy and profound loss. I have known the heartbreak of divorce, twice, and the pain of losing those chapters of my life. I’ve faced the rejection of my parents and an entire community when I stepped away from the religion I was raised in, leaving behind everything familiar.

I’ve said goodbye to beloved family members and pets, including both of my parents. Their deaths brought waves of mixed emotions of love, grief, gratitude, and the ache of unfinished conversations. Losing them reminded me that even complicated relationships can leave a deep void when they are gone. Each loss has reshaped me, leaving behind both scars and strength.

But the most shattering loss of all was my son, Gerren. He was 31 years old, an identical twin to his brother and a father himself when he went missing in December 2014. Four days before he disappeared, he left me a message asking for help. I didn’t call back right away. I was exhausted from years of worry and needed a little space to respond with compassion. Just before leaving on a family trip, I reached out to him. He sent me a photo of his daughter and assured me he had “figured things out.” We agreed to talk when I returned. But while I was away, he went missing.

In the beginning, I was sure we would find him or that maybe he had just run off to Mexico to start over. For years, I would see someone from behind and think it was him. My brain never stopped searching. I couldn’t understand why he couldn’t be found. As time passed, the years began to tick by and I started to lose faith that we would ever know what happened to him.

Then, five years later, I received a call from the Sheriff. Some hikers had gone off trail and found bones, clothing, and a wallet. Inside the wallet was Gerren’s ID. All that remained was his jawbone and a few other bones. It was not easy to hear, but I also knew that with every passing year, the chance of finding him intact was getting smaller.

The pandemic began soon after, and his remains were sent to a lab for confirmation. I thought I’d have answers in a week or two, but months passed, then years. I crawled into myself, torn between wanting to know the truth and fearing what it might mean. After two years of waiting, I finally called the Sheriff for an update. Not long after, the lab requested a new DNA sample. Gerren’s toothbrush no longer had viable DNA. Within a few months, I received the call confirming the bones were his.

The emotions were overwhelming. I cried with relief that we had finally found him. I live in Colorado, his remains were in Texas, and his father is in Oregon. I arranged for his remains to be cremated in Oregon. Today, his ashes, wallet, watch, and a few personal belongings are with me. Sadly, my relationship with his biological father has been strained since Gerren went missing, and we have not spoken since.

I share this because I know how complicated grief can be. It has no timeline. It has no “should.” It looks different for every single person. My losses have shaped me into someone who can hold space for others as they navigate their own unique grief journey.

Professionally, I hold a Master of Science in Psychology and have spent nearly two decades gaining certifications in Life Coaching, Hypnotherapy, Reiki, Meditation, and other spiritual studies. I am also a certified grief educator through David Kessler, one of the world’s leading grief experts. Since 2008, I have been working as a life coach, helping people move through life transitions with clarity, courage, and compassion.

Today, I am a certified grief coach, a wife, a mother of four, step-mother to one, grandmother to nine, and great-grandmother to one. My approach is compassionate, gentle, and grounded in the belief that grief is not something to “get over” it is something we learn to carry as we rebuild our lives in meaningful ways.

If you are grieving, you don’t have to walk this path alone. I will meet you exactly where you are, without judgment, and walk beside you as you discover how to keep living, loving, and finding hope again.