Ouray Yoga™

Ph.D Candidate The Color of My Scars I have a scar in the crux of my arm; a favorite dog, a rescue, a fighter, accidentally engaged my arm with her teeth, instead of the intended dog . The scar is about the size of an inchworm, white (now), raised with little footprints along its spine where the stitches once held me together. We eventually lost our dog , we hope she rests in peace, but she indelibly remains with me.  Losing my father was the deepest emotional wound I have ever had to heal; inside my spirit is a scar, still rough red and yet to be stitched back together. I was in the hospital room when Dad lost all bowel control; I was holding my mother’s hand when he began agonal breathing; I was his medical power of attorney when Mom became inconsolable. Nothing prepares you for this kind of loss. Except that many things do. As Kristi Hugstad, certified Grief Recovery Specialist writes: “Grief is about loss , and that loss comes in many forms -- death being just one of them” (2017