Wherever You Go, There You Are
On rediscovering ourselves in beautiful Spain and seeing our departed loved ones everywhere
The view on a beautiful mid-May evening from Malaga’s Alcazaba, a palatial fortification dating from the Muslim era, built at the foot of Gibralfaro Hill and next to the historic center. One of the city’s most beautiful monuments, it’s been declared an Historic Monument of Spain.
Welcome all! I’m honored to have you here. Many of you have found me through my memoir, The Full Catastrophe: All I Ever Wanted, Everything I Feared, published by Motina Books in February 2025, or some of my other published work. Others are here thanks to our literary magazine, In a Flash, through the Family Heart Foundation, or because of recommendations from other Substack newsletters. As always, I’m beyond grateful for your support.
Wanderlust
It’s been a minute since we’ve traveled out of the country, and our time in Spain (now in the midst of 10 days in Malaga, followed by 5 in Madrid), is just what the doctor ordered. I’ll share a bit from our trip so far and a snapshot of what’s ahead, which will, with any luck, seamlessly segue into what I want to talk about for those who are missing someone they never imagined they could live without.









So many photo opps, so little time! To add to this taste of the Costa del Sol, we walked through the park, past the harbor, to relax at the beach, Playa de la Malagueta, then took a little tour to the whitewashed town of Fragiliana and the nearby coastal resort of Nerja, where we loved the seafront promenade, Balcón de Europa, with views of the Mediterranean and surrounding mountains.









On Thursday, we’re on to Madrid, where we’re pretty much plan-free, as we have been here. We go to sleep when we’re tired and wake when we feel like it, spend time strolling or shopping or finding comfort food and refreshment or hike to the castle (I won’t be doing that again anytime soon!). Kevin found a gym where he gets in his workouts while I sleep or wander or write.
It’s not a bad life here, and it’s what we’ve needed amid this past year of book publishing and promotion. I wouldn’t trade that for anything, and it’s not over yet by a long shot (fingers crossed!), but for both of us, this has been such a welcome way to remember how much we love seeing the world. Together.
Inspiration Everywhere
I mentioned we had few plans in Madrid, but we do have one, and it’s a big one.
On Sunday, May 25th, we have tickets to see Real Madrid play Real Sociedad (the San Sebastian team) at Estadio Santiago Bernabeu, and I couldn’t be more excited.
If you know me or my family, or if you’ve read The Full Catastrophe or other essays I’ve published here or here or especially here, you know my son, Eric, who died at 20, had a lifelong love affair with soccer. I watched him on that pitch for the better part of 14 years and relished his passion both on the field and off.
But there’s something more on my mind than simply watching a match he’d have given anything to see in person during his short life in upstate New York.
Over the nearly 26 years since Eric passed, I’ve experienced again and again something I’ll bet many of you with loved ones you miss with every fiber of your being—whether it be a parent, sibling, partner, friend, or even a child—have as well.
A sighting, I like to call it.
There were the days I saw him sitting right in front of me at my therapy table when i worked as a speech-language pathologist, that red-cheeked, freckle-faced, grinning 10-year-old boy it made my heart both hurt and soar to talk with, watching his face like up like my son’s did.
Maybe I was on a city street in Stockholm when there he was with his buds—though I only saw him from the back, there was no denying it was Eric.
That’s Eric on the right, shaved head, backpack slung over his shoulder, compact and muscular, a soccer player’s build. I’m sure of it.
Maybe I was in a bar in Scotland with a crowd of young men reveling in their team’s victory or in a Vermont brewery, where the tribute to a snowboarder gone too soon (Eric’s other passion, snowboarding) made it feel as if his spirit was in the air.
I saw him in a New Orleans cafe where he sat with his parents, a happy post-college young man, at least in my imagination. There was light in his eyes, so much hope for a future I’ll never see play out.
And I’m pretty sure I’ll be seeing him everywhere in that stadium on Sunday. Spanish or English, Portuguese or American, there he’ll be. My soccer fan.
I know these boys aren’t Eric, not really. But for me, this is yet another way I feel him with me, and it makes me happy/sad (a feeling I’m guessing many of you relate to).
I know I can’t be the only one who has these experiences, but what do experts say about it? Is this a healthy phenomenon? Do others feel sad when this happens for them? Am I the only one, I wondered, who feels a tinge of sadness coupled with a spark of joy when I “see” my son out in the world?
This article in Psyche gave me some answers.
“I’ve had this reported to me thousands of times,” says Alan Wolfelt, a grief counsellor, and the director of the Center for Loss and Life Transition. “Somebody’s out at the shopping mall, and from a distance they see their dad.”
As Mary-Frances O’Connor, who runs the Grief, Loss and Social Stress Lab at the University of Arizona, and the author of The Grieving Brain, and more recently, The Grieving Body, says, “If there’s some perceptual cue in the environment that might be related to what it would be like to see our loved one in this place, your brain will fill that in for us… The brain is really good at pattern detection and filling in the bits that might not be there.”
O’Connor explains that our beliefs about relationships that were very important… are likely to update the most slowly. When you bond closely to someone, especially as a child to a parent figure, that attachment creates a belief that that person will always be there for you.
In 2021, when researchers asked over 1,000 people how they felt seeing their loved ones after they had died, 71 per cent ‘treasured it’, 20 per cent said they were glad it had happened and 68 per cent thought that the experience was important for their grieving process.
Psychologist Christopher Hall, the chief executive officer of the Australian Centre for Grief and Bereavement, wrote, “Death ends a life, not necessarily a relationship… Rather than ‘saying goodbye’ or seeking closure, there exists the possibility of the deceased being both present and absent.”
Now it’s your turn.
Have you had experiences of “seeing” your loved one? How did you react to these?
Did it bring them into the present in a way that was sad or energizing? Both or neither?
I’d love to hear about your experiences in the comments and hope you’ll share them there or in Notes. I believe that the more we share our grief and our memories, the more we create community, the more supported we feel.
News of the Day
Publication of The Full Catastrophe continues to offer me so many beautiful opportunities to talk about its themes of belonging, navigating grief and uncertainty, and living with grief beside joy. Here’s what’s new since my last newsletter. I hope you’ll check them out and then follow the writers and podcasters and reviewers who so generously offered their time and platforms.
Readers’ Favorite—Review of The Full Catastrophe by David Taggert
Because Everyone Has a Story Podcast with Daniela Stockfelth-Menis—Finding Belonging After Repeated Loss 5/5/25
Chatham Bookstore, Chatham, NY—Writing Motherhood: Four Authors on Parenting and Creative Practice 5/10/25 (with Morgan Baker, Ellen Gaydos, Nandi Rose, and Casey Mulligan Walsh). This was a wonderful, well-attended event. Thanks to Amy Zimmerman of Chatham Bookstore for all of her support and to Morgan Baker for bringing this panel to life!
Plans are in the works for future events, including
a book talk on grief at St. Henry’s Church in Averill Park, NY, on 6/4/25 at 7 pm
a live recording of A Place of Yes podcast at Northshire Bookstore in Saratoga Springs, NY, on 6/26/25 at 6 pm
a tentative event at the SHAC Center in Averill Park, NY, this fall, where I’ll merge a discussion of The Full Catastrophe and topics around grief and uncertainty with information about cardiovascular health and genetics
Plans for events in the Chicago and Raleigh/Durham/Chapel Hill areas are underway
A virtual book club appearance on 5/30/25 at 12 pm EDT with Amber Groomes, PhD. There’s still time to read The Full Catastrophe and sign up to attend. Learn more here!
Several other book club appearances, both in person and virtual, are on the calendar as well—I’d love to hear about your book club! There are 22 book club questions in this reading guide, which also appears under the QR code on my book and as a link at the end the Kindle version. I’d be happy to attend a meeting to discuss.
If you know of grief groups or workshops on topics relating to navigating loss and trauma and uncertainty that might be interested in The Full Catastrophe—or college courses that might benefit from assigning it as a lived experience book—I’m all ears. I’m eager to reach people through talks at bookshops or libraries as well.
That’s all for now. Thank you so much, each of you, for reading this far, for sharing, and for joining this growing community of folks who believe in the importance of holding each other up through all life throws our way. As the sticker on my car’s rear window proclaims, “You Matter.”
A brief request: If you’ve read The Full Catastrophe (or plan to), please 🙏🏼 leave a brief review on Amazon. These reviews are so important in getting small press books seen by more readers. Even if you haven’t purchased the book at Amazon, you can still review it there. Simply select the star rating and write a few lines.
If you’ve already reviewed it on Goodreads, click “write a review” and your review should appear. Copy and paste that into Amazon and, voila!
If your LDL-C cholesterol is over 190, doesn’t change with lifestyle modifications, and you have a family history of early heart events, you could have FH. And ask your physician to test your Lp(a) (say it: “L-P-little a”), since it’s elevated in 1 in 5 individuals yet is hardly ever checked. Feel free to get in touch with questions or for more information.
In a Flash opens for submissions on the theme of RESISTANCE from June 1 - 15; future themes are below. If you’re a flash CNF writer, we’d love to see your work.
Remember: regardless of how much time has passed since losing your loved one, you may still catch sight of them when you least expect it. Researchers tell us this is a way of bringing them into the present with us. I, for one, am grateful when it happens.
And while you’re at it, be kind to yourself. All grief is valid. Yours, too.
Till next time,
Thank you for sharing about your sightings of Eric (and the chat!)! 💗💫
I just read your book as part of Amber's book club-and it was amazing!