Anne Richardson

March 3, 2023

Ambiguous Loss, Connection, Covid-19, dementia, disenfranchised grief, Gratitude, Grief and Loss, Grief Literacy, Hope, Kindness, Labyrinth, My Mentor Grief, Newsletter, spiriutal companionship, Winter, professional presentation

Winter Newsletter: Footfalls On The Journey—Shifting Landscapes Shift Perspectives

Anne Richardson

March 3, 2023

Ambiguous Loss, Connection, Covid-19, dementia, disenfranchised grief, Gratitude, Grief and Loss, Grief Literacy, Hope, Kindness, Labyrinth, My Mentor Grief, Newsletter, spiriutal companionship, Winter, professional presentation

Ah February in the Pacific NW. Our mild winter faked us out with a few warm spring-like days earlier in the month. This is typical. A few bulbs poke up. Trees start budding and a few have even bloomed some years, though at least this year the cherries didn’t. Wise those cherries. We are giddy with visions of lighter jackets and warmer days.

Then cold swept in with an unexpectedly large gathering of snow in the lowlands. Caught the weather-folk by surprise as well as the evening commuters on a recent Wednesday. Portland recorded 10-12” in some neighborhoods. My higher elevation abode had about 10”. It turned into an icy mess once the snow thawed a bit and refroze. All the headlines read “snowapocalypse”and folks in the midwest rolled their eyes I’m sure. Now this is typical…a “false” spring followed by more “wintery mixes,” but we are a hopeful bunch in the Pacific NW (or forgetful) and think each year will be different.

Anne Richardson

October 6, 2022

Gratitude, Grief, Grief and Loss, Honoriing Life Transition, Invitations, Kindness, Life Transitions, My Mentor Grief, Poetry, Seasons

Listening to Life's Seasonal Shifts

Anne Richardson

October 6, 2022

Gratitude, Grief, Grief and Loss, Honoriing Life Transition, Invitations, Kindness, Life Transitions, My Mentor Grief, Poetry, Seasons

Autumn has arrived in the Pacific NW. That certain crispness in the air that nips at you when you walk out the door pre-dawn. The crunch of leaves underfoot that creates wildness even in urban settings. And my favorite—morning fog rising like steam from the valley up to The Summit when I take my morning walk. Summer seemed to last f o r e v e r. And even unseasonably hot days continue to float into the forecast and suddenly I’m wearing shorts again for a day or two. But night is overtaking day earlier and cools off the heat with its breath. And I say to myself, “You made it.”

Anne Richardson

May 9, 2022

Ancestral Journey, Belonging, Covid-19, dementia, Gestations, Gratitude, Grief, Grief and Loss, Grief Journey, My Mentor Grief, Pandemic, Pilgrimage, Seasons, Sojourn, Stillness

Lessons from the Pandemic: Unsettled Grief—Where do we go from here?

Anne Richardson

May 9, 2022

Ancestral Journey, Belonging, Covid-19, dementia, Gestations, Gratitude, Grief, Grief and Loss, Grief Journey, My Mentor Grief, Pandemic, Pilgrimage, Seasons, Sojourn, Stillness

Wee birds have created three nests outside my apartment. Three! One on the wreath attached to my front door. Two are on the deck in hanging pots. Juncos have taken up residency, voicing annoyance with every coming and going. I tap on the door before exiting, tug slowly on the handle and apologize to the small body complaining on the railing, railing at my disturbance. When I return home, I see a small head poking out of the nest. I wave my hand “hello,” and the mama flies out and sizes me up, assess the situation. Will I try to harm her eggs? What tack should she take? Attack? Opening the door, I slip inside. I want to retrieve my step stool and peek at the eggs, but that seems like an intrusion. They need nurturing. Warmth, not peering. So I leave them be, though I can’t resist snapping a quick photo before she returns.

Anne Richardson

August 13, 2016

Unexpected Gifts in Letting Go

Anne Richardson

August 13, 2016

Funny how old memories will resurface at unexpected times. Maybe it is the sweetness of the blackberries this summer that stirred my recollection of these unfolding memories two years ago. Spring of 2014 blossomed into a summer of unanticipated challenges.

Anne Richardson

June 26, 2016

Anticipatory Grief

Anne Richardson

June 26, 2016

My pug, Hugo, turned 15 today, June 26. I remember the day we, my then 13 year-old daughter, 10 year-old son, and 74 year-old mother, drove to Southern Oregon to pick him up. A hot mid-August day, a day we had been anticipating after months of research and deciding on what type of dog to get for our family of four. My mother volunteered to go with us and let us use her car as it was more reliable. We brought a puppy toy, blankets and towels, water bowl and a tiny harness. We brought excited hearts, ideas for names and promises of being consistent on training and chores. I don’t remember much else about how the day unfolded except the scared whimper of a puppy, held between my children in the backseat until he finally slept, and our own oohing and awing at how soft and cute he was and the joy he would bring.

Listening to Life's Seasonal Shifts

Lessons from the Pandemic: Unsettled Grief—Where do we go from here?

Unexpected Gifts in Letting Go

Anticipatory Grief

Subscribe

Get in touch

For Individuals

For Professionals

Labyrinth

Helpful

Social