Embracing Life’s Twists: How I Found Joy After Tragedy

The Pipoly Family

Embracing Life’s Twists: How I Found Joy After Tragedy

When I thought I was in the final year of my dad's life, I did not realize I was in the final year of my marriage.

I have been quiet for a while now. It's been hard to put into words how the last ten years have somehow crept up on me and my feelings. There is much to unpack, so this is just a fair warning.

No one ever said to me I would be doing life alone at the age of 46. When I met my husband at age 20, I thought we would spend a very long time together even though he was 20 years older than me.  I am thankful we did have 26 years of friendship and marriage together. I must admit that sometimes, because of my lack of desire to do something, I remind myself how much I did in those 26 years. I got to travel everywhere, meet very important people, and experience things that are precious core memories. I hosted parties, ran through airports, and missed flights because Carl and I were sharing a bottle of wine. We sat staring out airport windows at snowstorms, thinking we didn't care because we had each other. We watched our kids grow up and celebrated their victories. I was so blessed.

So yes, when I thought I was in the final year of my dad's life, I did not realize I was in the final year of my marriage. As I look back, would I have done anything differently? Probably not.

But I didn't know what was ahead for me after Carl died. My kids have given me such a great sense of strength and support. So, as I look back at the last decade of my life as Esther, here is what I reflect upon:

I had to fight for life insurance.

I left a city that embraced me to come back to Texas.

I returned to my childhood home.

I found new friends.

I kept a few old ones around who cheered me on.

I started a new business that people needed help understanding.

I made a few bad business decisions.

I unquestioningly trusted others.

I felt small.

Also,

I had a grandchild, and everything changed.

I became someone a small person looked up to.

I was a voice of strength for him.

I found my New number one thing.

I watched my son get married.

I gained a new daughter.

I saw my daughter get her master's degree and enter Law School.

I found my voice again.

I found what I loved and started believing that I was where I belonged.

I looked in the mirror and saw someone who acknowledged the sadness, but I am joyful for everything I have learned.

Now,

I am hopeful that in the next ten years, I will see my daughter become a Lawyer.

I will continue to see my son as a wonderful husband and father to his wife and son.

I will see my grandson go through elementary, middle, and high school.

I will sell my business and allow someone to take on the vision I had to help others.

I will see more grey hairs and wrinkles take over my body, and I will be okay with that transition.

I will probably get slower.

I have learned to be still and be quiet.

I have started saying I Love you more often.

I have learned when to hit the Stop button and say "No" more.

No one said life would be fair, but it has certainly been interesting. I Thank God daily for being here to help others and remind myself how alone I was and how many people needed me and LOLA.

The silence has been difficult because it makes you feel all kinds of emotions. But I go back to my friend and Coach, Dr. Sandra Steen, who helped me identify my inner Warrior Child- the young girl who will stand with you and guide you. She brought that to the surface when I started LOLA and told me never to forget my inner warrior child- because that is who moves me through all of the pain, frustration & sadness. I am Thankful for the Warrior in me.

Thank you to all who have made the 10-year journey with me, from friends in Denver who have never forgotten about me and checked in to my San Antonio friends who have paved a new way of life with me.  Thank you to family members who always support me and business colleagues who have always helped me with answers and a soft place to land in my moments of questioning myself and my vision.

But I am incredibly Thankful to my children, Nathan, Katherine, and Adyn, for continuing to make me laugh, smile, and be proud, whether they are near or far. Of course, I cannot forget my Number One Thing—Noah, who does make being a grandma so wonderful. I can hardly wait to witness your journey and make wonderful memories together.

Cheers to the Next 10 years~

Esther/LOLA

We do the work, and then...

"We do the work, and then nothing happens~ it is so frustrating."

The first time I heard this statement, I stood in my front yard talking with San Antonio Police officers.

I had experienced a volatile neighbor who had moved into my childhood neighborhood and started harassing my family and me. It started subtly with requests to move our lights because they shed some light at night on his totally dark property. Then, the acorns and leaves fell on his yard and roof. Our 50-plus-year old Oak Tree that my parents planted when they purchased the house was now over 100 feet in the air and grand~ she was beautiful. My children and nieces had pictures standing in front of the tree. Day after day, there was another request from the neighbor to cut back our tree (which we did) more and more. The demands kept coming and became more volatile and harassing.

Our family had to call out the SAPD 20 plus times in 5 months because the 70-year-old neighbor targeted us with insane requests. SAAFE officers attempted to reason with the neighbor pointing out the young couple on the other side of his home; his trees hugged over and into their shared fence line. The neighbor would respond, "they don't bother me." The police recommended videotaping his behavior after they had come out when the neighbor could not stop yelling at us over the fence line. He suggested leaving the house to de-escalate, so we did. When we arrived home, the neighbor was dragging the top of a tree from his backyard - where he had no trees. While we were gone, he had gotten on his ladder, leaned over our fence into our backyard, and cut down 20 feet from the top of the tree. He left limbs hanging because we arrived home during the process. We were stunned! An attorney friend came over to assess the damages. During this time, we videotaped the 20-plus-minute interaction between the attorney and neighbor yelling at each other over the backyard fence. The "conversation" was irrational.

"I've been down this road before, and this won't end until one of us leaves, and it's not going to be me! I don't like their mixed family," the neighbor told our attorney-friend.

And he was right. Night after night, he would stay up, flash his headlights into our bedroom windows, putting his car in forward and reverse over and over, flashing his flashlight into my grandson's room, banging on his metal garages at night, waking up my 4-year-old grandson and dogs in the middle of the night. He put up metal sheets bordering our fence line to fall at night, creating a shattering noise, blaring his music out his side garage door into my grandson's room. Then the nights turned into all-day activity, staring at us from inside his windows when we were out front playing with my grandson. When a neighbor called me one day and said this man was sitting on his roof staring into our backyard and home, I knew he was not safe. We have over 100 photos and videos of him leaning over our fence and taking pictures of my grandson's room with his phone. I hired overnight private security and put up bigger fences, bushes, and landscaping. And he kept going higher and higher all day and all night long. Week after week, sometimes 2-3 times a day, we would call the police. When we heard him threaten to kill my son and saw him carrying a gun while walking in his front yard all day, I had to decide how to get out of this and away from him.

"I am going to ruin their happy home!"

And he did.

This home holds a special place in my heart, as it was my childhood home. My parents bought it, and like treasures, stored within it are all my cherished memories of growing up in a wonderful neighborhood. When my dad and husband died in 2014, this home and neighborhood welcomed me home and wrapped their arms around my kids and me to grieve.

So, deciding to file a temporary restraining order and then preparing to move was difficult. We filed charges of terroristic threats and harassment against our new neighbor and fled the home. We packed everything up, put it into seven storage units, and stayed in an Airbnb for three weeks until we closed on a new home. We had endured enough, proving him right~ One of us would have to leave, and it was us.

In the months after leaving, we learned he had the new owners cut back that 50-year-old tree he harassed us about for months. Even Judge Gabriel, who heard our civil case, said not to cut the tree. But when we moved and new owners moved in, he got them to do it ~ he was not going to stop.

In February 2023, the District Attorney's Office called us to pull together any receipts of things we had to pay for due to this neighbor's harassment (for purposes of restitution). It wasn't until then that we learned SAPD had pursued the terroristic threat and harassment, and detectives investigated before sending the District Attorney's office to press charges. The neighbor was arrested and released on bond. We finally felt some relief until we learned less than a week later that Assistant District Attorney Jessica Thompson would close the case due to insufficient evidence.

"Let 'em Go, Joe" had happened. When we called to speak with her, she said she had the authority to make the decision and did not represent us and owed us no apology because she represented the state. When asked if she had reviewed the 100-plus photos we had sent before the pretrial hearing, and the $21,000 in costs we incurred, she was quiet, sitting on the phone, breathing, not saying a word. Did she understand we had to leave our home? She said NOTHING.

Simply put, she was Apathetic and rude. I explained to her ~ We are the People of the State, and we were the victims.

I was stunned and thought, where is the opportunity for all of this? How does this experience create room for growth for anyone who goes through what we went through? How does the District Attorney educate his staff of attorneys, victim advocates, and clerks to walk a family through the process of how they came to their decision? How do they decide if they will drop felony charges to let the victims know what other options exist to resolve and find completeness around the pain? Right across the hall is the Dispute Resolution Office. How does this play into their roles so victims can find some resolution?

Calls to Ms. Thompson's supervisor, Dan Rodriguez, were not returned neither were attempts to reach the District Attorney himself. No one, not the Victim Advocate, the ADA, or anyone in their office, had the where with all to sit and explain how they came to their decision. I think that is what families deserve. I get it they have tons of cases piled on them, and they must determine which cases they can WIN and which they decide on without their investigation of calling the police and the victims and reviewing all evidence. Ms. Thompson personally did not conduct her own investigation. Was this a "trade" with the criminal attorney for some other case?

That neighbor walked out of the Bexar County courthouse and knew he had WON. That his harassment WON. And everything he said he would do to us was A O K.

Silence ~ that is what we got. I reached out to the police officers who had pushed these charges through, thanked them, and let them know that they were indeed right. The District Attorney may say he is "hard on crime," but we firsthand felt what they meant that the District Attorney Joe Gonzalez's office failed us and their hard work.

There is an opportunity for the DA; if he had called me back, I could navigate him to resources to help coach his team through implementing programs other cities' District Attorney's offices have for cases like ours. The felony crime initially charged against the neighbor in October 2021 was reduced to a misdemeanor before they even had the pretrial hearing in February. If a family must leave their home due to harassment and a death threat, what message does this send when the ADA drops all charges without any explanation?

There is room to improve the behavior and create a communication process for the Bexar County District Attorney's Office. But for now, Silence and Disappointment are what I feel.

Esther Cardenas Pipoly is the Owner and Founder of Loss of Life Advocates (LOLA), helping families, employers, and business owners navigate life crises and end-of-life events.

Difficult Moments Lead to Change

By Esther Pipoly, CEO & Founder, LOLA

I worked in the employee benefits division for 20-plus years, and throughout that time, I had the benefit of working with many insurance brokers. When I exited the insurance industry to start LOLA in 2016, I had a lot of insight into brokers who worked for their clients and brokers who showed up and left.

I have always had respect for Brokers because they were the hunters, and we (Account Managers) were the day-to-day problem solvers and managers of relationships. Since 2016, when I started LOLA, I have had the privilege of meeting some of the Best Industry Professionals across the country. Professional women and men who genuinely do their best for their clients and their teams. They seek out the next best product, investigate and find new and improved solutions for their clients. They always want to learn more to be the Best. So WHY am I writing about this?!

With that said, I was eating brunch this past weekend, and who should walk in but one of the WORST brokers I ever worked with, and for~ I immediately felt sick.

Until that moment at Sunday brunch, I had tried entirely to forget about this old broker/boss. But WHOA, the flashbacks and memories of working for a very unpleasant person came over me like a wave. As soon as I saw him, I could not push past the memories of a time I had tried to suppress. 

Immediately the memories came flooding back: while we were presenting to a client, he kicked me from beneath the table; another time, he scolded me for an error, and there were incidences of this person in my face breathing down my neck. I watched him make promises to new prospective clients of things he nor I could not produce. There were so many things, but I should stop here ~ I had tried to erase him, and the time we worked together from my memory.

The Fall season is about change, and while this BLOG is not about the leaves turning or the weather finally getting cooler, it is about change and looking back on my life and career. In that Brunch moment, I realized I had gone through difficult moments in my career. And therefore, creating LOLA was so important to me. As I walked out of the restaurant, a small part of me thought ~ Thank you for reminding me how strong I am. Welcome, Fall. Change is good.

WHY Does It Hurt So Bad When You Lose A Pet…?

WHY does it hurt so bad when you lose a pet…?

This week, the final domino fell for us, having lost our beloved black lab Oliver.

I called him Braveheart because he was just that for me. He lived almost 15 years and was picked out and brought home by Carl. I recall Adyn calling me at work and saying, “Dad brought home a puppy,” and me responding with “wrong number” and hung up. (sigh)

Oliver was named after Oliver Twist, and boy did our other black lab, Indy, who crossed over a few years ago, torture him. She chased him, dragged him around by his collar until one day he grew larger than she was, and the table turned. Oliver and Indy were the kids I had when my own went off to college. They sat with me in my tears and jumped and danced with me in laughter and joy. They grieved with my kids and me after our losses. They never complained about what TV shows I would watch or the meals I made. My Black Labs were perfect companions.

We had anticipated that our time was coming to a close with Oliver, but as many of you know, it is like getting gut-punched when you make “the difficult” decision. As we sat holding him, our vet talked with us, and we recalled stories of him jumping out of a window to chase burglars away. He and our corgi, Walter, never got along. And that is why Walter lives in Denver. Oh, the fights those two would have. And as we sat talking, I started doing my relationship line with Oliver, from first impression to these last few minutes. It’s part of my Grief Recovery Method Certification I use with clients, and now I am using it for myself. I was and AM so very SAD. Like the back of my eyes want to burst into tears, my throat hurts, and in the silent moments, the cries that come out are wails with me crawling into a ball.

As we sat there, the elephant in the room was, “How will we explain this to Noah?” He is only four years old. It is a delicate conversation. Right?

But you know how kids teach you lessons? As we cried out our tears with our vet, Ben Kaiser, and left for home, it felt like we were under a million bricks. It was a heavy evening and night.

And what lesson did Noah teach us? Well, part of Noah’s afternoon schedule is feeding the dogs, so when it came time, he asked where “woofy” was, and I could hear his dad respond with a kind, soft-spoken, “Oliver is now in Heaven with Grandpa Carl, Indy, his great-grandpa Gus and great-grandma LOLA. And, without a beat, Noah said – “OK, he’s OK. I will miss him”.

Our hearts are still fresh with our loss, and we really miss our Braveheart. But as life moves on, our chocolate lab, Charlee, doesn’t know what to think; she’s been under a table, not wanting to trust anyone. Except for Noah and his PB&J.

Rest in Peace, Sweet Oliver, Braveheart~ Woofy.

My Godmother, Mary Esther Bernal

Some of my best childhood memories are those spent with my Godparents. I recall so many weekends being at my godparent's home watching our parents play scrabble until 2 am. Us children would run around, playing in the dark and watching TV until that screen came on to say – no more tv - I had the best moments of laughter, jokes, fireworks, eating pies, and coffee until we were sick- times of my childhood with my Godparents and their family. Every milestone was celebrated together.

When I became pregnant at 16, my Godparents sheltered me so my family could plan out my future. When I had Nathan, my Godmother and cousin Becky would sneak into the hospital and bring our family priest to baptize Nathan in my room. For years, every holiday, every gift was so special. (The last gift was a flashlight I have next to my bed.)

When my mom passed away in 1999, I called to tell my Godmother, and I can still hear the shriek of grief and disbelief. After that, she, my Godmother, would become a mom to me. Always encouraging me, and she and my Godfather were my first LOLA clients to get prepared. (It helped so much with answers for her kids this last year.)

I learned so much from my Godmother about being funny, serious, intelligent, and graceful. She touched so many people through her career at San Antonio Independent School District and as choral director at San Fernando Cathedral. When someone would pass away, it was she that sat at the organ in church and played.

Sometime after my mom passed away, I was at an event for my father at St. Mary's University. I was standing with my Godmother and another family friend. They turned to me and asked me, "Do you know how you got your name?" I stared at them and replied, "I believe I am named after you, Aunt Mary Esther?" She smirked and pointed to herself, "Yes, me Mary Esther," and then she pointed to my other aunt, a very dear friend of my parents, "and her Mary Louise."

I am Esther Louise.

I stared at them and smiled. I had never put the thoughts together, and until that moment, as they both stood looking at me, I had never felt so much Love and responsibility to make sure I lived up to my name. Both women were huge giants to me, and for the remainder of the years since my mom passed, they played vital roles in my life.

Last May, when my cousin Becky called to say my Godmother was ill, I can remember feeling like I was entering the slippery slope of having another giant in my life start to die. I went to visit my Godmother in a temporary facility while her home was being renovated so that she could resume living there. She was tiny in her bed, lying in the dark. She was so happy to see me. We sat and talked and walked through some memories together. While she needed some help recalling details, she was still graceful and beautiful. I left the facility to go to her house to help her family move furniture, paint, clean carpets, and get her room set up for her arrival. I still have the pants I wore with paint on them to remind me of those few days. And when it was over and the house was ready, I ordered some groceries to be delivered and drove off.

I could not go back; I knew that the road ahead would be full of twists and turns. And the most challenging part of my job is knowing when to step back – even in the most personal matters. It's the family's rite of passage.

And then... on Thursday, March 12th of this year, as I was arriving at my office, I got the sweetest text from my cousin. And I knew another Angel was with my mom, dad, and husband. I had to laugh inside because I always joke that I have a bit of FOMO – Fear of Missing Out when all the fun people are on the other side. After all, all my funniest moments were with them.

I worked through the day, and at about 3:30, I called it a day and knew I needed to pick up a six-pack of Coronas and a bottle of prosecco and head over to see my Godfather. He sat sadly and spoke of his broken heart, and then we sat in silence. My Godparents were the last "parentals" for my kids and me. I will forever cherish every memory and moment singing as my Godmother played the piano.

Thank you, Mary Esther Bernal; I promise to try and be as graceful and elegant as you.

Esther Louise.

This Moment

This moment.

Maybe it has taken me 7 years to get to this moment, to realize that what I am doing is for this very moment – this snapshot in time.

Today was difficult, and yesterday was hard…because we knew what was coming. September 28th. The mark of time where we three, sit with our feelings and try and act like – we are ok. But we are not. We are still grieving what we all miss when we share special moments like a wedding or a celebratory dinner… the one person who somehow made us complete. Carl.

Loss is never easy, I explain that when I have an initial consult with a client and new friend because that is what we become as we share the journey together. I made it clear that I would never lie to anyone when it came to grief. It stinks, it stings, and it never gets easier. You just look at it through different lenses.

But today, we went about trying to make ourselves busy. I took the day off with the exception of 2 calls I had to make for work. Then we set out to find some sense of adventure because that is what Carl would have wanted.

After many attempts and the day grew hotter, we settled on lawn ornaments for Halloween, one of Carl’s favorite holidays leading into all the others. We took Noah’s jeep out and showed him how to clean it because every day Carl would come home, come inside, pour a glass of wine, and then go outside to clean his car. He was a maniac about it. Noah played in the bubbles, then we blew up his lawn ornaments and he jumped in to drive his jeep. We cheered and laughed and when the battery died, I jumped on his tricycle and he lept on back yelling- GOOOOO! We laughed and laughed and that was the moment when I saw the pictures later, that I realized we are coming out of the fog. Because we have this beacon of light and laughter leading us…our miracle in all of our darkness – Noah Jude Pipoly.

I always get questions about how I can do what I do ~ well the answer is twofold. One is I love helping others through their darkest moments. The second is, Noah. One day he will look back and say ~ she lived for the moments, gave me her best moments, and always loved me. He will know that life is a journey, and its most precious gift is time spent with those you love.

This moment was picture perfect.

Much Love, Esther

Paper Napkin Mother's Day Card

On my first Mother’s Day with Carl, I remember him telling me ~ “Am I supposed to do something for you? You are not my mom.” (Can you picture me? Or my face?) I have to laugh now because I remember standing in the kitchen and looking at him like an alien. I knew my response had to be one that would not be forgotten.

“I may Not be Your mother, but I am THE mother of your children.”

I think I saw lightning strike! And the next thing I knew I had a Mother’s Day card hand made from a paper napkin on my bed pillow with a flower. These memories crack me up every time I think of them, because Carl was just like that, so sure he was right until I had to politely tell him differently.

Here it is May 10, 2020, and I can say with all seriousness, this Mother’s Day feels strange. I can’t help but miss my Mom and Carl. It’s strange. Maybe because the last mothers’ day I had with Carl in 2014, I remember calling Carl and telling him it was snowing in Denver. I remember waking up and looking outside the apartment window in Wash Park and thinking ~ This is bananas. But it was beautiful and by the afternoon the snow was melted. (I have to smile thinking about this.)

Flash forward 6 years and let’s just say ~ these are some crazy times right now.

I am being more of a MOM now than ever before.

I am cooking every day, spending time being present in the backyard listening to the sounds of my neighbors and wind. I talk with my kids several times a day, we eat and take walks, and talk. It’s actually been nice to be Nathan and Adyn’s MOM and Noah Jude’s Grandma. I love being their Mom and wish more than ever my partner was here to enjoy this time.

Don’t get me wrong, it has been stressful. Social Distancing, not being close to extended family and friends. Work, you name it ~ the stress is there.

BUT...I feel like these last 8 weeks have taught me something. I KNOW who my real friends are, they are the ones who check in, text, pick up your call on the first ring and reach out to make sure I am doing ok. I also know who the relationships are that I need to pay attention to~ and possibly make some changes.

Energy, it all comes down to this ~ on a Day where we get to just be Celebrated as a MOM. It is also a day to pivot and decide where our energy will be focused coming out of our country’s crisis coma. As MOMS, we are the leaders who will show our kids how to respond and move forward. So I am going to relish the memories of those I miss on this day and celebrate with my kids and grandson to prepare for the new frontier.

Happy Mother’s Day~2020

Sisters are like waves.

The first memory I have of my sister was of us, going to piano lessons together and when we were done, she would leave minutes before me, my heart panicking, racing as I ran after her running down the street to catch up to her only for her to stop long enough to let me catch up so our mother could see us...walking together home.

It was always like that, when we were young, she was the middle child and I the youngest. She could paint, was a student leader of her class and always knew how to smooth out any situation. As the years went by and I was 16 and pregnant, my sister drove like mad from Kingsville to meet her first nephew and the apple of her eye, Nathan. She would be the BEST aunt ever! And as the years progressed and we grew older together, we shared so many laughs, eating way too much and shopping together when we would visit. Baseball games and dancing, swimming, and yes sadly, even sharing the early beginning burdens of our mother getting sick.

When our mom died, it was the first shared experience of us losing our warrior mom. Our mom was your biggest hero and well, the one person who could bring you down to reality in a New York second. We gently maneuvered through this loss together and shortly after my sister, got engaged, married, and had her first child.

The years that followed brought more children into the fold and while sisters at heart, we also carried on in our own lives – careers, children, husbands. The distance between San Antonio and Dallas is about 5 hours apart, and it grew harder and harder to celebrate moments.

In 2013 our father got sick and the following year, we endured many sisterly challenges. Our brother was always Switzerland. Neutral, never wanting to tip the boat between sisters. After our father died and my husband soon there, after she was the one closing down Carl’s office with me. I recall her holding my hand down so I could sign the paperwork because my shaking hands could not be still. She was the rock.

She drove to Denver that year to see me and the kids for Christmas and stayed until she had to return for her own family holiday. It was then I stood in the front yard of my cold rental home and cried. Cried because I was alone.

The years that followed were in and out, me trying to figure out my new life and being silent and still. My sister being patient.

And so, as I help her celebrate her Birthday, the image of waves hitting the beach shores comes to mind. We used to walk the beaches in the morning with our mom, picking up sand dollars...skipping in the waves. While we have had years together and some apart, we can still sit, laugh, talk the serious talk and look at each other in the eyes and see our mother and father’s facial expressions, and know, like waves hitting the beach, we will always have each other.

Coming home~

As my daughter and I excitedly set out to Houston for meetings, at the back of our minds was the lingering thought of a delicate pick-up from a funeral home in Katy, Texas. We encountered pounding rain driving into the city; the rain feeling somewhat symbolic- like tears, a heavy release pouring down.

This past October, LOLA helped multiple families all having lost their sons- I never do keep track of patterns when working with clients, but this grave pattern was too loud to ignore. Each family experiencing the loss of a child, a brother, due to terminal illness or tragic accident.

Not a one, prepared for the end of life.

As we met with each family, we learned of their sons and how special each one was in their own unique ways.

One family, in particular, I fell in love with (yes, falling in love with my clients does happen) as her son was tragically killed in Houston- while I never knew the details of the loss, I knew within moments of connecting with her that she was one of the strongest and proudest mothers I would ever meet. Her rawness and transparency around her loss were only magnified by her faith. She will see to it that her son’s memory is recalled by his love for Halloween, his passion for technology, and the love for his grandparents, who helped raise him.

About 10 days after losing her son, I had picked this particular mother up for a meeting. As we engaged in small talk around how she was doing, she quietly asked me if I would be going to Houston any time soon. I answered that I had meetings planned and would be there the following week. She then asked if it was possible for me to bring her son home, as he had been cremated at a funeral home near the city.

Without a hesitant bone in my body, I said I would be honored.

As my daughter and I finished up our LOLA appointments in Houston that week, we knew our most important stop would be made right before getting back on the road to San Antonio. Meeting with the funeral director, my daughter and I sat and paused. Such a heavy few moments receiving the remains of a loved one; taking on the honor and privilege of returning what was left of an accident gone heartbreakingly awry.

We carried his remains to our car, placing him comfortably between jackets. Having made the cautious drive back to San Antonio, I delivered him to his mother on Halloween morning (his favorite holiday). I sat with his mother a few moments, admiring his beautiful, commemorative urn she had ordered for him. She shared memories of him and how much he enjoyed dressing up for the holiday- as a child, oftentimes preparing weeks in advance.

In those few minutes, I witnessed the familiar (yet painfully different) process of his mother tearing up in laughter over happy memories, leading to utter disbelief. Her son was gone.

Standing up to say goodbye, I wrapped my arms around her in the warmest hug I could offer, feeling both deeply saddened and humbled by the act of bringing her son home.

When people ask me what LOLA is and what we do, I say:

“Whatever it takes to offer relief in the saddest times of life. We are advocates for the Real Stuff- like bringing someone home.”