Looking Back on a Life Shared
Today is November 8 — six months since Ringo passed away.
This morning, I opened my camera roll and started scrolling, looking for photos of us. There are so many — almost one from every single day we were together. Every snapshot feels like a tiny window into the life we shared: the trails, the van adventures, the small, perfect moments between destinations, and so many laughs and shared smiles.
A Familiar Weekend, a Different Passenger
As I looked back, I realized that this exact weekend last year, we were out on an adventure together. In the photos, we’re at Fiesta Island watching the sunset — though I’m sure we camped somewhere nearby, probably in Ocean Beach.
And now, one year later and six months after his passing, I find myself doing the same thing: packing up the van for a weekend away. Only this time, Kaisa is in the passenger seat — my little co-pilot and adventure buddy.
It’s comforting, but it’s also strange. I still catch myself reaching for Ringo’s leash or thinking about how many scoops of food to pack. Those routines that sometimes felt inconvenient when I was in a hurry — now, I would give anything to have them back. To plan around him. To make space for him in the van and on the trail because what a gift that truly was.
The Ways He’s Still Here
Even in the ache, I can feel that he’s still here.
In the light that filters through the trees, in the quiet moments when I think about fond memories and find myself smiling — he’s there. I try to remember that energy doesn’t disappear; it transforms. And maybe that’s what love does, too.
Kaisa carries parts of him in his own way — the curiosity, the joy of being outside. He was raised by the kindest soul I’ve ever known, and every day he reminds me that the love Ringo gave is still moving through my life.
Love That Changes Shape
In the end, there’s this deep gratitude that sits alongside the bittersweetness.
Grief, I’ve learned, is just love that’s changed form — love that no longer has a place to land, so it shows up in memories, in tears, in laughter at the things they used to do.
It doesn’t go away. But it softens. It becomes something you carry, gently.
So as I hit the road this weekend with Kaisa curled up in the passenger seat, I’m letting myself feel all of it — the missing, the love, the gratitude. Because the truth is, these emotions are all part of being so, so human.
In every sunset, open stretch of highway, every quiet pause between songs, I know Ringo’s still riding along — just in a different way now.
My Notes 🌙
Grief has a way of teaching us to see differently — to notice the small moments that used to blur by. Writing this, I was reminded that love doesn’t end when someone is gone; it just keeps moving through the world in new forms.
For me, that love shows up in the rhythm of the road, in Kaisa’s meows from the passenger seat, and in the silence that somehow feels full. If you’re navigating your own kind of loss, I hope you find comfort in knowing that the love you shared still travels with you — sometimes quietly, sometimes boldly, but always there.
