You know, when I first started writing what will one day become Remember the Birds (the book), we were neck deep in the pandemic, the whole world had changed and everyone was finally at a level of desperation that I could somewhat relate to. My son Josiah had been dead for 10 or so months and his remains were still missing, lost somewhere in the vast desert that makes up the Yakama Reservation in Eastern Washington.

I started the writing then because I felt compelled to share his story and compile the writings I had done (for the most part on social media) so that his existence didn’t slip into obscurity. I had also been out of work for 6 months which meant that much of my identity–the person I once knew myself to be–had slipped by. Working on the book helped all of that. It told me who I was in a world that I no longer recognized. I wrote and I wrote and I wrote. And then I slowed down. And then I stopped.

Then, last year, while sick with Covid (for the second time!), I picked up a book that served as inspiration to get me going again. It was a good story, yes. Well written, yes. But more than anything, it served as a loud example that people out there actually care about our stories. It quieted the voice that nagged at me, telling me I was wasting my time doing what I was doing, so I started writing again.

On July 5th, 2022, this defunct blog that had laid fallow since that same voice convinced me to abandon it back in 2015 got renamed REMEMBER THE BIRDS and I posted to it for the first time in over six years. I reclaimed the blog, the book, my motherhood and my life. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was stepping off into an abyss that promised to try and make me whole again.

Eventually, I found my way to the London Writers’ Salon, the writing community I belong to–a treasure trove of bright lights, knowledge and encouragement that my little book that I planned to self publish might actually get picked up in the much broader market of traditional publishing. If that were to happen, Josiah’s story (Our story) would spread much wider than I ever thought would be possible on my own. And then the question came:

If by some chance that does happen with REMEMBER THE BIRDS, what would that mean? Well, it might mean that there would be (if I’m lucky) some sort of financial gain. So, how would that feel?

[and here is where my fingers just stopped typing]

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Yesterday, the t-shirts I had made for our trip arrived. I was so excited to see my boy’s name and face on something so tangible! And so excited they got here before we leave tomorrow morning. I sat on my living room floor rolling them up and organizing them by size, posting a photo expressing my excitement online. 99% of the comments and reactions came back as positive, but you know, there is always the one… He suggested that I was “pandering” to my audience.

I responded kindly, curious and confused as to what he meant, but there was no confusion, he knew what he was saying and told me that I had the “power to change”. I took his advice—I changed my surroundings by blocking him and then left the comment there for everyone to read.

I went on to make dinner for my (new) family. But it bugged me. Got under my skin. So, I did what I have learned to do over the last decade of sobriety and 3 1/2 years of intense therapy—I got curious about where my reaction was coming from. The answer was pretty simple. His suspicion and accusation touched on the very thing that made my fingers stop typing above.

What if something comes of this? What kind of person would that make me? What if I manage to tell our story so far and so wide that the greater world, the big one OUT THERE, hears it?

What if I go to the Gorge to see Dead and Co. this coming weekend and actually eek some enjoyment out of it? What kind of human does that make me?

IT MAKES ME RESILIENT.

It makes me the type of woman and mother that time and the most horrific of crimes can’t steal every last ounce of joy from… and ultimately, my hope with REMEMBER THE BIRDS is just that—to share our story in a way that speaks to the hearts of people and tells them, You can and will survive anything that comes your way.

This trip is about RECLAMATION—of my LIFE, that VENUE, Josiah’s LOVE of the MUSIC he had heard since he was nestled safely in his amniotic sac.

I am SO OKAY with the HUMAN I am. The MOTHER I am. And the ADVOCATING I continue to do.

Thank you for supporting me as I try and reclaim part of what was stolen from me.

I’m going to keep plodding along… straight through the fears, the words, the obstacles, the oppressive entities (even the keyboard warriors online) and keep going.

My partner (and hero) Brian and I will be at the Gorge Amphitheatre, 100 miles northeast from where Josiah’s life was so senselessly and brutally taken on June 7th, 2019, this coming weekend for BOTH shows! I will have stickers, t-shirts and plentiful hugs. I will have empathy for how his loss has affected others, but I will never apologize for how I continue to show up and mother.

If you see me, come say hello. PLEASE!

On Monday, July 10th, just an hour or so after I meet with Joe Brusic, Yakima County District Attorney, I will be having a COFFEE AND CHAT at Catalyst Coffee in Yakima from 12:00 – 2:00 pm. If you are in the area or just passing through, please come have coffee with me. I’d love to meet you!

In a wonderful turn of events, we will also be in San Francisco at Oracle Park (where the SF Giants play!) Saturday and Sunday, July 15th & 16th for Dead and Co’s final two shows. I will be there to continue to spread the word about OUR story and REMEMBER THE BIRDS.

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Serendipitously, tomorrow morning, exactly one year after I brought this blog and Remember the Birds back to life, I head off to Washington to complete a trip that began exactly 49 months ago–213 weeks to the very day–when Josiah took off to see a band playing music he had loved all of his life!

I love and appreciate all of you (even the ones that get under my skin because they come to teach me too!)

Thank you for continuing to walk alongside with me on this journey!

Reclaim your life, your story. Listen to your heart; ignore the chatter.

In Gratitude,

LIZ
Josiah’s Mom | Writer | Advocate | Deadhead | Lover of Life

Heed the warning of Josiah, my cochin wielding pirate child…