There are times when things are done out of order. It could be when you try a new way of doing what you thought was set then see it’s time to look at the details one more time. 

When a recipe asks for one thing to be done but you think it could be done another way. 

You wonder if it would make that much of a difference if one thing is changed. 

So, you try it. 

Then you notice that something is different. 

Perhaps it can be like making a pie crust and changing out the cold water. It is easily done in the moment, yet what happens when the pie is done? 

It is more easily broken. You notice that the flaky goodness that was there in the past is now not quite the same. 

What seemed to be a time saver in the moment turned out to be the one key part of the recipe that made all the difference. 

Who knew this was the case? 

Turns out many people who make pies know this. 

It was the cold water along with the flour, salt and butter or shortening that made a tasty crust. Promise.

That’s a pie crust promise. Easily made, easily broken.

Yes, the quote from Mary Poppins that says ‘That’s a pie crust promise. Easily made, easily broken’ that is true here. 

Pie crusts are both easily made if the steps are followed. If the ingredients are tracked. 

Let that sit with you as we look at even the basic four things needed.  

What I found out is that I’m the one who needs to keep track of the ingredients.

Even the ice water. 

Then, I found myself remembering that there was another time that pie was part of a promise. 

This time going back in time to see in my mind the time that our son enjoyed a piece of pie. 

It was just like this one you see. 

A flaky piece with small bite size apples eaten one bite at a time. 

Bite by bite until the small plate was clean. 

Yes, every morsel was delightfully gobbled up then he sat back with an even bigger smile as if to say ‘Well, that was the best thing I’ve ever had so far in my life!’ 

That pie crust promise was given and received.

That pie crust promise was given and received as it was meant. 

With love and joy, sitting side by side with others and noticing every crumb on the plate. 

What if that is the meaning of a promise at its core? 

That we sit side by side with someone and notice the details. 

Even down to the last morsel or item in front of us? 

That is what this quote gives me alongside the memory that seems to float with it. 

If we were to do these two things, sit side by side and notice the details then what else would come? 

I think there is magic that could come, and not the kind that Mary Poppins brings. 

It is the kind of magic that our son showed so delightfully. 

He only ate this one piece of apple pie with bite size chunks. 

With it, he showed what could happen when you sat with someone by their side. 

Or invited someone to sit by your side. 

If the moment came to him and someone was near, he would pull them to his side in a way that you felt a part of him so closely that you could feel his essence. 

Dallin knew that doing each thing was important and was like doing things that count. 

He was pulling people to him as a way to show you how to notice the small things. 

The crumbs were the tasty morsels of life. 

It could have looked like a broken pie crust but not a broken promise.

Yes, it could have looked like a broken pie crust but not a broken promise. 

Our son, Dallin, showed how to keep a promise by being by our side for as long as possible. 

My how he showed the magic of life. 

Inviting someone to sit by you, showing them that you have noticed them and their details of life is as if you are saying ‘You are the best thing in my life!’ 

That is the easily made part. Like adding cold water to a pie crust. 

There is another part that is more difficult and may feel like being broken at times. 

That is when life seems to be done out of order. 

For me, that was when our son died and was no longer here. 

How could that be when he was the one to show how easily sitting by his side had been for a lifetime. 

This one change did make many differences in my life. 

Now is when I need to ask the next question of ‘What are we going to do next?’

Will the pie crust promise of being side by side stay intact?

Will the pie crust promise of being side by side with others stay intact or will this be the time for the magic to disappear? 

Do you see that it is still time for the details to stay in place, like the crumbs on the plate when our son ate that one piece of pie? 

For me, deciding to continue to sit with others, and pay attention to details all around is what I now know will happen. 

It’s how I can say ‘You are the best thing in my life!’

Is there someone you feel the magic with as you sit by their side? 

Now could be the time to notice the small things of life with them as you look for love and joy. 

Let’s do this together. It’s a promise that is easily made.

The layers of my grief look like a couple of things I’ve come across in life.

Over the years I’ve attempted to make a few things that seem to make me shake my head and stand back. 

Recently, I made a pie and that’s where the similarity stood out. 

Grief is like layers of a pie.

Grief is like layers of a pie. The bottom or beginning of grief is new and it seems ok.  

Then there is the middle with all the emotions that can pile up like ingredients. This is where it can feel mixed up, as if life will never be the same again. 

Finally, there is the top which can be disguised with a light crunch or sugar topping and then it is finally discovered that grief here is bumpy and ever changing!

As I watched the pie being made I found that while I thought I knew what I was doing it was surprising to find that a little adjustment was needed throughout the process. 

This pie is in the middle with the ingredients piled high. 

There are dots of butter to add more flavor, and that edge of the first layer can still be seen. 

Seems to be okay from this view, doesn’t it? 

This is where we can stand back and start to see more, my friends. 

The grief that comes in layers made me pause.

The grief that comes in layers made me pause as I made this pie. 

What if the ingredients inside were to change as another person wanted smooth chocolate filling instead of apples? 

How would those changes be seen by others in grief? Could they be adapted to be like a chameleon? 

Or is there only one way to make a pie and to grieve? 

Here is what I explored the day I rolled out the bottom layer that looks like it fits in the pie plate. 

I thought about how I didn’t know what I was doing at all in the first years after our son died, when I showed up for work and hoped to remember my password or where a file was on my computer. 

What I also hoped for was that others around me were kind and would help me seem ok. 

That world of seeming ok with all of it rolling forward did happen for me.

I sat with the messy middle of grief.

So, I sat with that for a time and then went into the messy middle of grief. 

Have you felt the messy middle while others were with you? 

The pile up of emotions ranged from chunks of disbelief that Dallin, our son, was no longer in our home, to gratitude for a life with our son. 

Then to sudden memories of who we were with him slipping down my cheeks as the tears would jump forward. 

Mounds of emotions needed to be felt and seen even when it seemed like life would never be the same again.

Truth came with this, as life never was the same again as part of the messy part, the piles of feeling continued and I felt them all. 

I began to be interested in this part of grief that I didn’t need to understand it all. I only experienced life and grief and wonder here and now.  

For me, there are many ways to make a pie and to experience grief. Being present with it was part of feeling and being then. 

The top is where I am now at times. 

I sit with the thought of ever being complete with grief, as I have found that it is truly ever changing.

For me, grief means I have loved and I will love our son forever. 

So, I will grieve and remember forever.

Loving and living with a bumpy ever-changing life is how to roll out the top of the pie.

Loving and living with a bumpy ever-changing life is how to roll out the top of a pie. 

Will it sometimes cover a delicious layer of ingredients piled high and dotted with more flavor? 

Yes, most likely. 

I will also most likely continue to have a pile of emotions with the grief that comes in layers. 

For me that means that joy, resilience, confusion, wonder, and sadness all create this life that can bring experience. 

Some days are smooth like that bottom layer or like different filling. 

Other days are bumpy like a top layer of pie that is part of grief and love, life and sorrow. 

What are your layers of grief bringing you? 

Let’s discover them here together.

Now that I have some time, I’d like to share some tales of two that I love. 

They are the ones I didn’t know were going to come to me. 

When they came, it was as if they were coming back to town after a long time away. 

Even if it feels like I step away from town to feel it all. 

It’s what came next that brought a smile to my face.

The smile has lasted for over 35 years, so I think I’ll stick with it, alongside all that life has brought to me. 

A beginning introduction is the best place to start. 

Let’s begin with day one. 

The first one of these boys who came to me brought a smile and play with him right away. 

It started with side glances to catch his eye. Was he going to look back or should I not look over again?  

Was there more to discover? There was, indeed, my friends. 

It was then that I noticed a dimple when he smiled. 

Oh, there it was. The game was on, and I knew this boy was one who could have fun and be kind. 

Music came along next and the hours-long conversations began. 

We could be found learning together, leaning in to eat good food together and then asking big questions. 

It was as if the song was made for us.

It was as if the song by Thin Lizzy, The Boys Are Back In Town, was made for us. 

People could start to spread the word around that we were answering questions with a fun yes as we began the next moments. 

Are you wondering about the other boy? 

Here’s where the joy of life not only doubled but increased tenfold.

The best of the best and the boy who became more than we could imagine. 

This boy was also a twin of the first one with a smile that brought joy.  

It is what brings me joy to this day. 

When I think of one of these boys, I think of the other. 

They are so closely tied to each other that they could mimic the other. 

Their mannerisms were similar and if I looked at them from the time the young boy joined our life, I found that he wanted to be just like the other. 

Can you see that the first one is the dad and the young one is the son? 

They were truly tied to one another by their lineage and by their smiles. 

Their joy of being back in town together.

By their love and their joy of being back in town together. 

One way I knew this to be true is how our son, Dallin, would leap up every time Brandon came home from work. 

The magic of hearing that laugh, seeing the smile and feeling the bounce every time they met at the door was incredible. 

Being able to say Oh, Hello! In words, light and souls meeting souls was always powerful. 

These two were best friends and they would do anything to spend time together for decades.

They would dance, clean, read the paper, decorate, help others, and laugh. Music led them in all of this. 

Do you see that it comes back to the smiles every time? 

It did for them and it does for me. 

This is what I now know. 

I’m getting ready to get back in town and remember what these boys did.

Perhaps that is why I can look up when I’m ready to get back to town and remember what these boys did for many years. 

Looking up brings me a view that broadens my horizons, shows me colors of the world and reminds me that there is always more to learn from the boys in my life. 

Spending time with someone who smiles when I walk in the door and is ready to play has brightened life and brought joy. 

To have two of them in my life is beyond what I could have imagined. 

Let’s keep dancing together as the music brings us rhythm and joy alongside life, love and what comes next.

The story started out like this. 

I was out in my yard cleaning up after the fall harvest of apricots years ago. 

There were as many of the small orange fruit smooshed onto the grass and the dirt as there were in my bucket. 

What had changed from taking it one day at a time?

How was that possible? This was something that I’d done for years as a child without a thought so what had changed from taking it one day at a time to now? 

There was no more taking it moment by moment or not worrying about the next day.

It felt like I had been out in the morning sun for hours and then I looked up. 

Suddenly, I realized that what had been a seemingly quick job had become a never-ending chore.

Those easy days were gone as I began to think about the change. 

Deep thoughts began to twist as the path before me played out in my mind. 

Perhaps this chore of cleaning up hundreds of smashed pieces of fruit was what small children did to help. 

More twisted tales began to form in my mind. 

‘Is that what I’m now here for, to clean up at the end of a season?’ 

‘If that’s what I’m here for then what else will I only be ok for.’

‘Ok is not ok with me so y’all better get ready for what is coming.’

The beginnings of a spiral instead of taking a breath.

My friends. Do you see the beginnings of a spiral that was taking place instead of taking a breath? 

This is only the beginning of what came to me the day of the fateful encounter with an apricot tree. 

Let’s continue as I reflect on that time. 

The apricots began to smoosh and smash their way into the bag until I found myself tossing them as I remembered things that others had said to me. 

Over the years, people had said some peculiar and some unkind things, so as I tossed, these things were recited from memory. 

First, came the things said about our son. 

You know, he doesn’t belong here. 

Of course, he can’t do that so why do you try? 

Then, came the blatant words said about me in life. 

Do you know you’ll never be a grandma? 

You’ll never know what it’s like. Why are you here? 

How did you survive what happened to you? 

I forgot to take life one day at a time.

With each memory, I forgot how to take life one day at a time. 

Did these people know what they were saying at the time? My heart broke again and again. 

Instead, I began to feel hot tears on my cheeks and blurred my vision. 

As if the salt was cleansing me and giving me something new to pay attention to. It was then that the fruit came back to me. 

Tossing the warm wet fruit became something more as I grew to feel the power in the statements that had been said. 

Had been said, as those words were not said for long in our world. 

They did sting as they hit me the first time, so it was time to let them go. 

I could feel it in the moment. 

So, I let them go with an underhanded pitch into the bag as I stood up. 

To let it out and say to my mind that I was done with those thoughts and memories. 

They were not going to hold onto me for one more day.

They were not going to hold onto me for one more day. 

As I pummeled the side of the bag with a pile of apricots, I began to remember other things. 

Yes, with tears streaming down my face and with more energy being gathered from my toes to my fingertips. 

This time I remembered the boy who became more than we could imagine. 

The boy who stood up every time he wobbled and truly took life one day at a time. 

Until that last day when he decided that he would look up at us, with a big smile, and tell us what he would remember. 

That life was also about including a year of play. 

Joy, love, life. 

Power, being a child, going forward. 

I can now look at what remains of that apricot tree and pause with a smile because of what I do one day at a time. 

Even now, during the time of the harvest.