Laura’s 10:30pm update Thursday, June 7

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! 

PS Soon I will post the recognitions, blessing, remembrance, and eulogy from Liza’s Big Energy Celebration.