what's in your nature?

and there's no place like home

I returned to Nosara, Costa Rica for the fourth time last week. It is a forever favorite. I was most recently there in 2016. That did not seem so very long ago when I arrived into the familiar reunion, until I did the math between. A decade of caretaking, years home during the pandemic, a move back east and the death of my beloved Dad. Tomorrow marks the one year anniversary of his start on hospice.

The familiarity of returning to a place known well, felt like a proverbial exhale. And a lot of big old real ones. Paths walked and known (even in the darkest night), beloved lumpy-bumpy roads that make the getting there hard and careful and worth it. The roar of the Howler monkeys. All so very much the same.

This trip, we have adopted a manmade bench of tree stumps at the paths end that face the sea. Our place, we call it. We sit along with all who gather for this stunning daily occurrence with awe, wonder and reverence. The local ritual marked daily by many who make their way to this five o’clockish showing. Mother nature’s theater. Not tickets required.

We take in the surfers dotting the spray. Elegantly weaving their shadows. Lacing through the waves. The shells reveal themselves as the sea folds in and out over the glassy sand. Folks begin to point above our heads. Likely a local monkey family passing through the treetops. I have to rise to see for myself. And there behind us, across from the setting sun, stretches the entirely of a rainbow. Both ends with the bow with its curvy fullness in between. It is just the way I drew them as a kid. Just like in Oz. I often feel the same about the sunset. So real and true and spare, it is childlike in its wonder and simplicity.

We have returned to this spot for a much needed vacation and also to mark my new decade. Next decade? In the trail of emails that my husband forwarded to me with news of a newly added plunge pool and sauna on property, I see the string of correspondence dating back to our dating years. They reach back to our first visit as a “met on the internet” couple in 2012. If you want to know about someone, travel with them. It sealed our deal. I notice he has requested room 9. Each year. I thought it was the hotel’s doing. It brings a tear.

I have been searching for home since my mother died. That place where I find peace.

Sometimes that is a beach. The place she lived her last day.

I learned early on, it is also a place in my heart.

There is the home that is my sister. Through it all together.

It is in my children.

Then found with Alex.

He taught me that can also be the places we make home away from home. Like room number 9.

It is in the memories.

Sometimes that sense of home is when I leave a place. Places we find comfort and togetherness.

It’s elusive.

But attainable.

I watched in awe as my sibs made home of Dad’s memory care room.

It was where we were together. A birthday. A Thanksgiving dinner. A funny story. A moment of light. Of love. Of clarity. Of “love you more”.

We are home.

Each of us.

Even in the waves of the unknown.

Our next holiday support circles begin next week. Here is the scoop. Never let finances get in the way of joining. Just reply to this letter—it’s me behind the keys and we will find space for you.

I am off to Los Angeles this week. I will get to visit with my youngest and also attend one of my favorite conferences of the year—all about end of life. It is filled with “my people” and those in and around my field that I admire. Gosh, how I wish to speak there someday. I believe more than ever, that a good life also means a good death. I have learned so much about this from the incredible speakers there over the years.

There are a few tickets left if you are in the LA area and I am linking the End Well virtual option they offer this year. I attend to tend to my continued learning and curiosity. It is followed by the Grieftastic Book Fair on Friday—filled to overflowing with authors and panels that share stories of love and loss and learning.

Take good care of you as we approach the holiday season. It can be heavy as a griever. Please meet them (or don’t) in a way that feels true to you. For some of us, grieving and grateful. For others a change of the usual or rewriting the menu all together. Our family has been meeting on Friday instead of Thursday for Thanksgiving, it is the way we met the grief of losing my Mom. It has always been a gift of a lesson to know we didn't invite the grief, but we get to make the rules for how to meet it.

I hope you meet yours gently. x, Barri