On the trifecta

of loss during a time of renewal

There is nothing like loss to remind us to live.

Gloria was beautiful beyond words, beautiful beyond this world. Beautiful beyond any shallow notions of beauty. She was one of two people who encouraged me to write.

Strong in ways I have only begun to glimpse, Gloria did not accept toxic environments. A tender soul in some ways, she found interesting ways to rebel and fought harder than anyone I’ve met.

She, my grandmother, passed away a few months shy of 101 years old.

The primary inspiration for the character of Amelia in We Arrive Uninvited, my grandmother was a woman I watched with hesitant awe as a child. And while her life was not easy, it was romantic—full of drama, love, anguish, and high-stakes emotions. She made her own decisions and created her own world, for better or worse, no matter the diagnoses or limitations others placed on her. Her journey was unique, and only she could’ve lived it.

I have spent much of this week imagining I had been there by her side as she passed, holding her hand, feeling the coolness of her skin and the softness of her exit, and reminding her she was not alone. But she knew.

Grandma chose to leave at the onset of the full moon in Libra and the penumbral lunar eclipse. The symbolism of balance, beauty, justice, and chaos—all at the same time—feels right.

Yes, my grandmother was beautiful. But she left this world more than a “pretty face.” She was pure magic, and she couldn’t be contained no matter how hard the world tried to box her in (I’m being a bit ambiguous here, but she lived a long and complex life and to summarize would be a disservice).

Rest in Knowing, Grandma, that many were touched by your beauty. Your true beauty, which I think is captured in the photo below.

Gloria (1923 - 2024)

While my grandmother’s passing was not entirely unexpected, this past week also brought on the loss of a good writing friend of mine, Rob Dinsmoor. Rob and I found a fast connection in 2009. He too was a yoga instructor and writer with a cynical view of the self-improvement industry.

We formed a fast friendship and supported each other for over a decade. He left this earth swiftly, after a series of strokes, and he wasn’t that much older than me. After reading my novel, he offered the kind of review that depicts something a writer rarely receives—a different perspective with respectful acknowledgment and praise of the storytelling. He also messaged me privately and said he was cheering me on.

While Rob lived on the East Coast, we kept in touch via email and would often send each other fan letters. We had planned to read together soon. Rob was a wonderful writer but an even more remarkable human. A genuinely kind and fair-minded man, I will miss him dearly.

I said a trifecta in the title, didn’t I? Well, the old adage that things come in threes may be right. A few days ago, within this same week, I woke up to find a large, hard lump on my dog’s face. She’s been slowing down for months, and I am facing the fact that I will soon lose a furry best friend, who has been by my side for a decade. And today, I cherish her every lazy roll in the fresh grass and insistent gaze before treat time.

2013, when I first met my pup Ahti.

While spring blooms, I am facing a trifecta of loss. The universal message is not subtle, nor is it missed.

It stings, but I’m listening. I welcome the bloom and, for this particular spring, I’ll honor these three beautiful souls who inspire me, keep me going, and remind me what it is to be honest and kind. To laugh and love without limit. The magical part of my mind believes my pup will be with my grandmother and Rob, and that they’ll all get along quite well.

There is no deeper sweetness than having loved and being able to sit with the fullness of the shifting of life on this earth. I am grateful. I appreciate what is true and beautiful, and as much as I can, I will remind myself to fully live.

This week, I will plant flowers in my yard. I will cuddle my pup and hope she gets to see the blooms. Either way, here we are.

Photo by Kouji Tsuru

I’m posting early this week as I will soon be traveling to be with family, so there will be a slight gap.

But, friends, ah to be porous and slightly depleted … this makes us better able to absorb the light.

Thanks for reading.

xo Jen