Why do I subject myself to reading the sad stories of mothers and daughters? I'm quite certain it's an indication that there's something wrong with my mind.

However, to give myself a little bit of redemption, this particular one had an interesting twist. The author is a naturalist and conservationist. Her great outdoors is a wildlife refuge on the Great Salt Lake in Utah. Her passion lies in birds. During the difficult years when her mother was fighting cancer, she found solace in nature. Unfortunately for her, her mother wasn't the only one who was sick; the Great Salt Lake was rising. The wildlife refuge where she worked was submerged underwater, as was a large part of the area. Using the birds and the Great Salt Lake not even as a metaphor, but as a mirror to the turmoil, sacrifices, adaptations, and so on related to her mother's illness was done wonderfully. She is able to beautifully capture the wide range of emotions that she experiences as both her family and the environment around her change in ways she never imagined.

I have three complaints. First, the map at the beginning of the book was useless. I think a map that showed the changes in water elevation would have been more appropriate for this book. Second, I wish that along with the changes in water levels, the author had included dates. I could rarely tell if days or months had passed, unless another frame of reference (such as Christmas or summer heat) was mentioned. Third, I had picked up this book assuming that there would be a lot more discussion about how the US government's nuclear testing had caused the ridiculously high number of cancer cases. It is only hinted at until the last chapter of the book.

None of those complaints are distracting enough to make me dislike this book. In fact, I can't wait to pick up more works by this author!

I don't know how I managed to overlook marking this into my "read" list. The truth is, I read it many years ago and fell in love with it instantly.

I had the privilege of hearing TTW speak several times in Utah. On one occasion, it was at a Wallace Stegner seminar. Her profound sense of place, her deep connection to family, and her unwavering love for the West, with all its breathtaking beauty and formidable challenges, truly touched my heart.

Moreover, her thoughts on our common religious affiliation added another layer of depth and resonance to her words. It was as if she was able to articulate the very essence of our shared beliefs and values in a way that I had never heard before.

I've read other works by her, but there's no doubt in my mind that this particular one is my absolute favorite. It holds a special place in my heart and continues to inspire me to this day.

While there are aspects on which author Terry and I have significant differences in opinion, I simply cannot ignore the profound impact her words have on my heart.

She and her mother shared an incredibly close bond, and the way she intertwines her grief over the loss of her mother with the environmental degradation of bird habitats offers a fresh and thought-provoking perspective.

Cancer is truly a merciless beast, and the thought of losing either of my parents at the age of 55 is utterly devastating.

My father endured the second of his three battles with cancer at 56, during my senior year of high school. If I had lost him then, I shudder to think of the person I would have become.

The inevitability of losing him now, at 76, is already difficult enough to come to terms with, which is why I turn to reading.

Nature serves as the haven where Terry processes her pain and heals. In the open air, surrounded by the sounds and scents of the earth, she finds solace.

The solitude is comforting, and her communion with nature becomes her refuge.

Some might find it strange or melancholy that I've been devouring so many books about cancer journeys this year, but it has been essential for me in dealing with all the complex emotions surrounding my own impending loss.

Terry puts it beautifully: "Perhaps this is the compassion and courage that comes to us when we realize we are not alone in our suffering."

I often struggle to find the words to express how I'm feeling, and sometimes I don't even have the energy to try. But when I read the words of others, I can see myself reflected in them and say, "Yes! That's exactly how I feel!"

As Terry so aptly states, "In the act of reading, words touch our hearts, relationships are forged, we breathe a book alive."

Regarding the environmental issues Terry raises, I firmly believe that the alarming increase in cancer in Utah, especially in her family, is directly linked to the nuclear testing that took place in their deserts during the 50s.

It is a travesty that our government prioritized testing weapons without considering the consequences on the lives of its citizens.

Moreover, their refusal to admit responsibility is inexcusable.

My father's situation is similar. There is strong evidence to suggest that his prostate, colon, and brain cancers are all connected to his exposure to Agent Orange while serving in Vietnam.

Yet, the army only officially acknowledges their culpability in one of those types of cancer.

I wouldn't be surprised if it is later proven that my oldest sister's death from leukemia and my father's first wife's death from uterine cancer were also related.

The time period Terry covers in her book emphasizes how the rising waters of the Great Salt Lake not only threatened the natural habitats of the birds living and migrating through the area but also the homes and industries we humans have established on its shores.

However, what we are currently facing is almost the complete opposite. The lake is at an all-time low, having receded 22 feet in 25 years and shrinking from 3,300 square miles to less than 950.

As drought and global warming continue to worsen, it makes one wonder how long the lake as we know it will continue to exist.

Terry wisely notes, "we will survive our personal losses; they are ultimately what give us our voice. I know they gave me mine. But the losses of the larger world - call it the pain of a grieving Earth - threaten our sanity and survival."

Her conclusion is that we must remain actively involved, vigilant, and proactive in our efforts to protect our Earth.

As I mentioned at the beginning, Terry's words have truly affected me. I think I underlined more passages in this book than in any other.

After going back through my notes, here are some of the lines that meant the most to me.

"In the same way that when someone is dying many retreat, I chose to stay."

"Restraint is the steel partition between a rational mind and a violent one. I knew rage. It was fire in my stomach with no place to go."

"It's strange to feel change coming. It's easy to ignore. An underlying restlessness seems to accompany it like birds flocking before a storm. We go about our business with the usual alacrity, while in the pit of our stomach there is a sense of something tenuous. These moments of peripheral perceptions are short, sharp flashes of insight we tend to discount like seeing the movement of an animal from the corner of our eye. We turn and there is nothing there. They are the strong and subtle impressions we allow to slip away. I had been feeling fey for months."

"You know, I hear the words on the outside, that I might have ovarian cancer, but they don't register on the inside. I keep saying it to myself, this isn't happening to me, but then why shouldn't it? I am facing my own mortality - again - something I thought I had already done twelve years ago. Do you know how strange it is to know your days are limited? It have no future?"

"In the long run I didn't think one month would matter. In the short run, it mattered a great deal The heat of the sandstone penetrated my skin as I lay on the red rocks. Desert light bathed my soul. And traveling through the inner gorge of Vishnu schist, the oldest exposed rock in the West, gave me a perspective that will carry me through whatever I must face. Those days on the river were a meditation, a renewal. I found my strength in its solitude. It is with me now."

"We wait. Our family is pacing the hall. Other families are pacing other halls. Each tragedy has its own territory."

"The curse and charisma of cancer: the knowledge that from this point forward, all you have is the day at hand."

"What is it about the relationship of a mother that can heal or hurt us?"

"I asked her if she thought my life was selfish without children. 'Yes,' she said. 'But I'm not saying that's bad. By being selfish a woman ultimately has more to give in the long run, because she has a self to give away.' 'Do you think I should have a child?' I asked. 'I can't answer that for you,' she said. 'All I can tell you is that it was the right choice for me.'"

"Suffering shows us what we are attached to - perhaps the umbilical cord between Mother and me has never been cut. Dying doesn't cause suffering. Resistance to dying does."

"We are all anxious, except Mother. She says it doesn't matter what they find, all we have is now."

"Why couldn't I have respected her belief that the outcome mattered less than the gift of each day. We had wanted everything back to its original shape. We had wanted a cure for Mother for ourselves, so we could get on with our lives. What we had forgotten was that she was living hers."

"I have refused to believe that Mother will die. And by denying her cancer, even her death, I deny her life. Denial stops us from listening. I cannot hear what Mother is saying. I can only hear what I want. But denial lies. It protects us from the potency of a truth we cannot yet bear to accept. It takes our hands and leads us to places of comfort. Denial flourishes in the familiar. It seduces us with our own desires and cleverly constructs walls around us to keep us safe. I want the walls down. Mother's rage over our inability to face her illness has burned away my defenses. I am left with guilt, guilt I cannot tolerate because it has no courage. I hurt Mother through my own desire to be cured."

"Death is not the enemy; living in constant fear of it is."

"It brings life into focus one day at a time. You live each moment and when you see the sunset at the end of the day, you are so grateful to be part of that experience."

"Don't be so strong, Tammy, that you won't cry when you want to. Let people help you and love you. I can't tell you how important it was for me to let people do things for me."

"Sometimes you have to totally rely on the arms, tears, and loving hearts of others, that this is truly where God's love lies, in the support of family and friends."

"I feel like a failure because I am losing my compassion. We are spent."

"A person with cancer dies in increments, and a part of you slowly dies with them."

"Faith defies logic and propels us beyond hope because it is not attached to our desires. Faith is the centerpiece of a connected life. It allows us to live by the grace of invisible strands. It is a belief in a wisdom superior to our own. Faith becomes a teacher in the absence of fact."

"But the feeling I could not purge from my soul was that without a mother, one no longer has the luxury of being a child. I have never felt so alone."

"An individual doesn't get cancer, a family does."

"Do not squander time, that is the stuff life is made of."

"Since Mother's death, I have been liberated from my optimism. I have nothing to hope for because what I hoped for is gone."

"The world is in motion. We are in motion. We have all lost loved ones. We have all danced with grief and we will one day dance with death. We embody the spiral, moving inward and outward with the loss of fear, a love transcendent, and the courage to create new maps."

Remarkable.

The way in which grief is processed and manifested in this book is truly delicate and raw.

It is as if the author has peeled back the layers of the human heart with great precision, allowing us to witness the pain, the confusion, and the slow journey towards acceptance.

Each page is filled with emotions that are so palpable, it is impossible not to be moved.

The descriptions of the characters' inner turmoil are so vivid that one can almost feel their sorrow.

It is a powerful reminder of the universality of grief and how we all cope with it in our own unique ways.

This book has touched my heart and will surely touch the hearts of many others.

It is a must-read for anyone who has ever experienced loss or wants to understand the complex emotions that come with it.