I think this is my favorite picture of all time. The end of a very, VERY long day in Tijuana. My mom is clearly exhausted but she is still smiling and literally propping Sue and I up. This was how she operated – she had the combination of an adventurous spirit, seemingly boundless energy and endurance. Whether it was walking seven miles across San Francisco or driving 3,000 miles across the country, she was game. Sue, Doug and I have so many stories of excursions that ended with us limping over the finish line, coming into the house or hotel and collapsing while mom just reset and went on to the next thing. She had to be tired, she just had to be. But tired was never a reason to give up. The thing I’ve found about grief for me is that it changes over time. The first year there was just so much numb and so much relief that the suffering was over. The last, horrible year hung heavy over my memories and thoughts and I frankly just wanted distance from it. But over time, that shadow has dissipated and the photographs and memories of a full life has taken precedence. It is almost like when you think you’re through the worst of it, you get back the whole person in memory and you have to grieve them all over again. It’s been four years today since she died and not a day goes by that I don’t miss her.