Today marks 16 years since Edie's crossing, and 4 days ago, April 28, marked one year since Liza reunited with her big sister on the other side. After Edie was diagnosed with MPS1, I used to say that if I was going to lose a child, I had won the lottery; I had nine years to wrap my head around it. Unfortunately, luck was not in my favor.[...]

Way back when, I said I'd include Liza's eulogy, etc here. Then I dropped the ball because frankly I wasn't sure anyone was listening. But I just reread Liza's eulogy which was delivered by her best friend, Mary, with whom she had planned to live after graduation. It is just so darned good that I'm going to throw this message in a bottle and toss it out to sea. Hopefully some lucky folks will find it and share it with the world![...]

Finally, the video that was shown at Liza's Celebration in Asheville. I credit her many friends for putting this together but most importantly Mary Lawson Cox and her assistant, Sophie Manning.[...]

Until today, Liza's boyfriend's mother has fully managed this site. I hope that if you are still following our journey, you will offer a post of thanks here to Suni for her dedication to Liza, as well as her son, Leighton, and especially me as we've weathered these treacherous moments over the last three months. I personally don't know how I could have survived without the support of so many people. Like Suni, several were people that I only met through Liza.[...]

https://open.substack.com/pub/ashevegashotsheet/p/family-friends-recall-big-liza-energy?utm_source=direct&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web[...]

I’m not sure if I’ll continue to update but the past week certainly warranted one. On Friday, an Asheville friend hosted an intimate group of “Mother Cluckers” and significant others and Bryan and me in her side yard. We carefully transferred Liza’s cremains and Edie’s remaining ashes to scattering tubes. The event was a powerful mix of tears and laughter and even included a visit from our former cat. 
The following day about 50 of us boarded vans and a few cars for a trek to Max Patch, a favorite hike and camping spot for Liza. As we hiked the short distance, many spoke of the fun they remembered with her there and one friend produced a photo of their campout exactly three years earlier. The top of the 360-degree bald was as beautiful as it was the Mother’s Day that I hiked it with Liza and Ziggy. I had nothing planned other than allowing the evening to unfold. Her friends knew exactly where to sit for the best view of the setting sun. We pulled out potluck appetizers and drinks and began swapping stories and catching up. Finally Bryan suggested that I might like to start. I stood up with the sun to my back and turned to look at everyone gathered. To my astonishment, I saw that a nearly full moon was just cresting over the bald. So the moon rose over one half of the sky while simultaneously the sun painted the other half in a spectacular show of color over the blues of the mountains. Each of us told a favorite memory of Liza - and for some Edie as well - and then sprinkled their ashes into the breeze until finally the skies darkened. We pulled out our phones and found our way down the mountain in the darkness. I could not have planned a more special and beautiful evening had I tried.
Once at the vans, we discovered that one had a flat tire - perhaps a little trick that God, the Universe, and Edie and Liza planned for us that enabled us to watch the lightning bugs dotting the night air. After several failed attempts to get the flat off, we eventually all piled into the remaining vans and cars and returned to town.
Then came Saturday with its immense outpouring of love. In reflection over the last few days, I learned that part of the human experience is to feel suffering. Without it, we never truly know love. Believe me, I have cried and felt depths of grief that I never knew possible, but on Saturday love and joy and life were everywhere. Over 500 friends hugged, cried, sang and danced, and words were spoken that reminded us all to live deeply and be that person that can always be counted on to comfort quietly, live authentically, and make life fun. Adventures await; go ahead and grab ahold! [...]

Arriving in Asheville Sunday evening was not as hard as I’d worried - the sun was setting and the mountains were glowing as I listened to a podcast on Near Death Experiences, something I’ve dabbled with in the past and have become obsessed with lately. Their stories reassure me that THIS is not the end and I’ll be reunited with  those I’ve loved. Thankfully Jack and Elli had arrived in advance and were staying in the 2-room basement rental of my house that Liza and I shared on periodic weekends and holidays once I moved to Jacksonville. They thoughtfully had sorted through Liza’s belongings, but I was nonetheless a wreck upon finding so many unexpected memories: letters, pictures, drawings, and beloved stuffed animals from her childhood. Thankfully Jack and Elli stayed nearby while my tears flowed endlessly. I haven’t stayed there yet and probably won’t this visit; staying with friends is easier. Just driving the roads of Asheville conjures up memories of Liza and for now, those are cloaked in my expectations that will not become realities. So I cry.. a lot. And pray that the day I can smile at those memories arrives swiftly. 
After a particularly difficult day, I went out for Asian food with my mother. Liza and the universe then sent me a much-needed sign. The message in my fortune cookie read “Be patient. Good things come to those who wait.” 
There have been good times smattered in with the tears. A hike with friends where cloudy skies part just as we reach a clearing, a minor league baseball game where our team came back in the 9 inning for a walkoff win, and abundant love from friends who loved Liza from childhood.
Saturday will be here soon and we’ll bouy one another with a common bond: Liza’s Big Energy! I love you, girl! 💛🌈 🥠 💛[...]

Back in Jax trying to return to normal life, whatever that is after you’ve lost the person whose daily phone call you wanted to pick up. As with all grief, it comes out of nowhere, but for me the most likely culprit is through music. Liza’s friends created a playlist of her favorite music that I listened to repeatedly in the hospital. I can’t help but cry because when a song plays on the radio, I’m reminded of the hope for Liza’s recovery that I had during those weeks… the hope that suddenly changed to nope.[...]

Laura's sharing the recipe!

The TranquiLiza[...]

Our final day on the inlet started off with a jolt; I texted the homeowner to see what preparations were necessary for tomorrow’s departure and was told that our reservation ended today. And omg, she was right! The seven of us raced to clear out, but within minutes, our host - thankfully - texted that she was able to postpone the maintenance crew until tomorrow. We finished our coffee, ate breakfast, and soon Jack’s friends departed for Asheville leaving Bryan, Jack and Elli, and I to combine relaxation with intermittent clean up. Early heat gave way to storms that rolled in mid afternoon. Jack and Elli finally taught me to play chess: a promise that was made when Liza arrived at Mayo a month ago. Between showers, I ran outside to check for rainbows but none ever appeared. [...]