Losing Sharon
How do we deal with losing those we love?
I sang Somewhere Over the Rainbow/Wonderful World “Iz Style” which is a beautiful Hawaiian rendition of the songs and a tribute to those we have lost… There’s also a photo collage.
Monday, October 20, Early Evening
The other night, I didn’t take my meal break at work until close to 6:30 PM Pacific time. But that didn’t stop me. It was almost dark by that time, and after next week, it’s going to get dark even an hour earlier when daylight saving time ends.
I was on a mission. I had to do it even if it meant trekking into the woods in the dark. I immediately set out on my journey, walking as fast as I could towards the woods as the shadows deepened and the light grew dark. I had to get there no matter what.
I had to get to my favorite Tree, Lucy in the sky with diamonds. By the time I embarked on the trail, it was so dark that I could barely see anything. But it wasn’t pitch black yet!
I knew exactly where to go, and I did have my iPhone flashlight, which isn’t the greatest, but it’s better than nothing. Darn, didn’t I see an excellent flashlight sitting on a counter or someplace? Of course, I forgot to bring it.
I leaned into Lucy, the mighty Douglas for a tree, tall and strong, always there for me, always beckoning, always whispering. I’m here for you. As I hugged her, I could feel the rough bark, so familiar, and I could smell the moss mixed with that familiar fir tree smell.
Yes, a few tears fell as I hugged her. I didn’t know what else to do. I could feel other trees surrounding me. The trees do not communicate with words that we know. They communicate with emotions. They communicate by making us feel emotions, such as happiness and, at times, even fear, when the heart beats quickly. Sadness. That painful feeling deep in your gut and chest. Accomplishment. You really feel these things when the trees surround you, but sometimes you feel things you don’t want to feel, but there it is.
On this night, I can only think of one thing. My beautiful friend Sharon. Her husband, Joshua, contacted me and said she did not have long. I had already taken two days off work to visit her in Idaho early next week. Just two days earlier, Sharon and I were still texting one another as she excitedly told me about Moscow, Idaho, where she lives. Over the years, I have heard many things about Idaho, though I had never been there. We always visited either at a writers’ conference or when she came to California, and later to Portland, Oregon. And we always stayed connected, of course.
Though we were different in some ways, we were alike in others. We both like to wear tie-dye and be as colorful as possible. We were both musicians and writers, and balanced music and writing. Sharon played the flute and sang beautifully. In 2012, I met Sharon and her grandkids, along with their mom and some of her close friends, at a parking lot at the old spaghetti factory. It was Earth Day, and a video was being made featuring people from all over the world singing “This Land Is Your Land.” We sang it in the parking lot! I play the ukulele.
I knew in my heart as I hugged my favorite tree that I would never see Sharon again in this world, but I would still feel her presence and her love.
Suddenly, a memory popped into my head. I remembered that over 26 years ago, my mom was dying of cancer. She was only 64 years old. Towards the end, I wasn’t sure if she was even conscious or if she could even hear us. I remember so well how she grabbed my arm, looked up at me like a child, and said, “Can I go now?” I couldn’t stop crying. I wanted to say yes because she was in so much pain, and I didn’t want her to go through that anymore, but it’s so hard to tell your mom that she could go. I had to drive back to Keizer, or about 75 miles from Newport. I had older kids in school, a job, and all those things.
That evening, I pulled into a 7-Eleven parking lot near our house after working my part-time job at the video store. This song, Freebird, started playing on the radio.  I sat in the car and listened to the extended version of this song.
Cause I’m as free as a bird now, and this bird you cannot change … the pain flowing through my veins was so real that for a moment or two I couldn’t even catch my breath.
You can go now, Mom, I said several times. It’s OK, Mom, you can go. I must’ve sat in that parking lot for at least an hour, but I lost track of space and time, and it was a good thing. I didn’t have to be anywhere at a particular time that late evening. Mom passed away the next night. I wasn’t there with her, and I wish I were, but the wonderful hospice nurse was with her. But I felt like I was there when I needed to be there.
I was working at the video store again, and my daughter Melissa called and said, Grandma has passed away. I knew this was hard on Melissa because she and my mom were close and had a lot in common, and she was only fourteen.
I said the same thing while leaning against my favorite tree for comfort and security. You can go now, Sharon, I said. Fly free, and you will no longer have any pain. And I meant it. By the time I left the tree in the woods, it was so dark I could barely see, and I usually tried to avoid walking in the woods at night, but I hadn’t gone too far. I had to get back to work but somehow work and everything like that seemed so trivial at those moments.
Tuesday, October 21, 2025
Sharon passed away peacefully the next morning at a hospice center. I felt relieved, sad, upset, and happy for Sharon, but sorry for the rest of us. I was so delighted that she no longer had to experience the pain she was feeling.
The woods beckoned me again, but this time during the day, thank heavens. The woods are now transformed, as the bigleaf maples have finally begun to turn color and shed their leaves. Suddenly, the lush green had turned to all shades of yellow, and gold mixed with the green of the ferns and evergreens.
The woods seemed brighter than ever because of Sharon. I wore a tie-dye shirt Sharon gave me many years ago, and I felt like she was there with me while I sauntered up the trail, passing by the community of ladybugs, which never ceases to amaze me.
Sharon will never be far away from those she loves. She is still a bright shining star. I love you forever, Sharon.
October 21, 2024 at approximately 9:00 am.
My dear friend, Sharon Cousins, passed away peacefully at 9 AM this morning. I missed seeing her by a few days, but I am so glad she is now pain-free.
Sharon, we all loved you so much. She had friends all over the world because she taught solar cooking to communities in developing countries. She was also an accomplished writer and musician who played the flute and sang beautifully.
I did not get to see Sharon as much as I would have liked over the past few years because she lives in Moscow, Idaho, and I live in Eugene, Oregon. I sometimes get caught up in life, things like having to work. It’s already a challenge to visit with my grandkids and my family. I met Sharon at an international women’s writing group conference in the Santa Cruz Mountains in 2008, I think.
Perhaps it was before that, I can’t remember now. I will miss Sharon so much. She used to send me a birthday. Greetings with Beatles music and regular hello greetings with Beatles music. She understood how much I loved the Beatles, hee hee.
Sharon always cared more about other people than she did about herself. She was a beautiful person, and she still is, but she’s in a different realm now.
Rest in peace, my beautiful friend, and fly free.
Beautiful..sending hugs to you at this tough time. It's hard but you're so right...they fly free and full of only love.
Sending love, Melody. Your words and music keep Sharon and your mom close!