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- [00:00]
Erica Mahoney
Hey, I'm Erica Mahoney, host of Lemonada's hit podcast Senseless. I want to tell you about an app that's honestly been a game changer for me, Duckbill. Duckbill is like an executive assistant for your personal life, powered by AI and real humans who tackle your to do list so you don't have to because life is busy. So think of Duckbill like your personal task force that never gets tired, never procrastinates, and gives you a break. All you do is submit a task and they get on it fast. I've used Duckbill to manage my calendar, book doctor's appointments for my kids, order thoughtful gifts for my husband, and even plan my podcast, launch party venue and all. It helps me show up for the people I love and take better care of myself because time is power and everyone deserves extra help in reclaiming theirs. So if your plate is overflowing, pass a few things off to Duckbill. Life is short, so duck it. Use code senseless for 50% off your first two months at getduckbill.com that's getduckbill.com Lemonade this podcast relives an account of gun violence and the trauma that follows. Please take care when listening when tragedy shatters the world you once knew, life suddenly splits into a before and after. In the aftermath of great loss, it's only human to crave the past, to reach for the familiar when life felt whole, when we felt safe. The months leading up to my dad's murder were messy but beautiful. Even now, I often find myself aching to return. Almost exactly a year before the mass shooting that killed my dad and nine other innocent human beings, the COVID 19 pandemic was beginning to take hold. We were all grappling with fear. Fear, uncertainty and the sudden loss of normalcy in California. Stay at home orders swept through the state just as my husband, Brandt and I were finalizing all the details on our big wedding, down to the color of the tablecloths.
- [02:07]
Brandt
I think we did all of that arranging in the winter and then like 2020 hit. Covid hit and there was absolutely no way that we were going to be able to have this wedding anytime soon.
- [02:24]
Erica Mahoney
We were supposed to get married at a California winery in June of 2020. We were left with two keep our plans and postpone or just get married in our backyard. We opted for the latter. At the time, Brandt and I were living in a small redwood house on his parents property in Carmel.
- [02:42]
Brandt
You and I were on the same page and we were so in love and we just Couldn't wait to get married. We just decided to have this really small, quaint, under 10 people. Following the COVID guidelines. I think we had exact, exactly 10 people. And we had like a really nice, intimate, sweet wedding in the woods below our house.
- [03:13]
Erica Mahoney
My parents and brother flew out for the big day. We ordered takeout from a Greek restaurant for a rehearsal dinner and spent the next morning waiting out a beautiful rain shower because we weren't on any sort of time schedule. I'll never forget my wedding ceremony. I remember telling myself to bottle this moment up, to memorize all the magical details, from the way the earth smelled after the rain to the expression on my dad's face as he walked me down the aisle, which in this case was a dirt path. We started in an open meadow that wove through tall California grass and then walked into an oak tree grove where Brandt was waiting beside a big, sturdy tree. Our family sitting on wood benches on either side.
- [03:54]
Brandt
You look so happy. And he looked so proud. And yeah, it was just a really special moment. I had a very hard time holding in the tears. I remember feeling comfortable enough with your dad right before we got married. Like right before, like an hour before.
- [04:20]
Erica Mahoney
Well, right up to the wedding.
- [04:22]
Brandt
I remember telling him that. I said, kevin, I want to let you know that I love your daughter so much and that I'll do everything in my power to protect her and make her happy.
- [04:35]
Erica Mahoney
Oh my gosh. I'm tearing up. I didn't know you ever said that.
- [04:37]
Brandt
Yeah, and.
- [04:40]
Erica Mahoney
He.
- [04:41]
Brandt
He def. He like full on acknowledged it and just. I think he got a little teary and just gave me a big hug.
- [04:53]
Erica Mahoney
After the ceremony, we had dinner at Brandt's parents house. This is my father in law, Charlie. And turned out plan B should have been plan A. Anyway, it was just a terrific joining of the most intimate pieces of our both families. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world. Pandemic wedding and all. Not long after that, I found out I was pregnant. Everything was falling into place. All my dreams were coming true. My cousins threw Brant and I a small gender reveal party on the back patio of our home. When we opened a cardboard box and pink balloons floated out, I was over the moon.
- [05:34]
Brandt
Three, two, one.
- [05:36]
Erica Mahoney
Oh my God. Oh my God. Congratulations.
- [05:40]
Paola Beltran
It's a girl.
- [05:41]
Erica Mahoney
It's a girl. We FaceTimed my parents to share the news. They couldn't wait to become grandparents and made plans to come out to California when our daughter arrived, booking the cutest seaside cottage for the summer, knowing we'd be with each other. Soon we didn't get together over Christmas to make sure I didn't get Covid while pregnant. The vaccine wasn't out yet. And so I spent the slow afternoons of the pandemic working alone in the public radio station, trying to keep my community informed about the pandemic, all while growing a baby and daydreaming about the future, the after, when my entire family would be together again. I imagined this perfect, easy entrance into motherhood. But that future was ripped away three months before my due date and 10 months after my wedding when my dad was shot and killed in the parking lot of a grocery store in my hometown of Boulder, Colorado. Suddenly, trauma and grief overshadowed all the joys of honeymoon bliss and pregnancy. My mother in law, Janet, says they didn't quite know what to do. I mean, nobody is prepared to respond to a tragedy like this because you really can't imagine it's going to happen in your own family. And then we just started going hour by hour, day by day, moment by moment, just trying to put it all together and keep it together. Sitting next to my father in law, Charlie, in two wicker chairs. Even he, a hospice physician, was at a loss. Being a physician, and particularly a palliative and hospice care physician, death came daily, just almost routine. But in this case, it was. It's like you just had your whole foundation pulled out from underneath you and all the dreams and expectations and hopes and you see this whole painting being the kids, the grandparents, the whole painting was coming into focus. Yes. And how we all clicked. And then suddenly, I mean, suddenly the whole canvas is ripped apart. All the sweet moments I'd envisioned over and over again in my head. Moments like my dad holding my daughter in the hospital just like he held me the day I was born were gone, erased, just like that. I checked into the hospital on Father's Day, my due date. I secretly hoped my daughter would arrive quickly to forever mask the pain this holiday would now hold. My mom was all alone in the waiting room, my in laws hanging back, tiptoeing around our overwhelming sorrow. It was both a joyful and painful time for all of us. Especially my mom. I know he would have been the best grandfather. We were going to call him Gramps. I labored all night, the pain unlike anything I've ever felt before. Animalistic and all consuming. You got it. You got it, you got it, you got it. Almost there. You're so strong, Erica. My daughter arrived the following afternoon on the summer solstice. And in the end, I was happy. She had her own day it felt like a turning point, the sun rising again. Finally, I got to meet my little fighter who stuck with me through the worst time of my life. Oh, my goodness. When the nurses put her on my chest, she looked right into my eyes. A fierce and ferocious love for my daughter was instant. But minutes later, I started seeing stars. I told my ob, I don't feel well, as blood poured out of me. A nurse grabbed my daughter as the room dimmed and started spinning. It was like all the pain and anger and heartbreak from the mass shooting was coming out of me, too. If I'd lost any more blood, I would have needed a transfusion, but luckily, the bleeding slowed down. My love for my baby girl helped me push past all the pain, physical and emotional. But I couldn't escape the sorrow of all the moments and milestones my dad was going to miss. My husband, Brandt, felt it, too.
- [10:13]
Brandt
To be sad, angry, and in love and, like, ecstatic, like, in a good way, all in this, all at the same time.
- [10:28]
Erica Mahoney
That's.
- [10:29]
Brandt
That's a crazy emotional salad right there.
- [10:33]
Erica Mahoney
We had to figure out how to hold space for life and death, grief and joy, all at the same time. I'm Erica Mahoney, and this is Senseless, a podcast about moving forward after the unthinkable. Stay with us as a mom, wife, friend, and now a podcast host. Life is a lot. One minute I'm chasing the kids in the yard, the next I'm racing to the recording studio. It's not easy, and honestly, it's a little overwhelming. But I wouldn't trade this life for anything. And I know I'm not alone. I see you juggling all the things, looking composed on the outside while quietly unraveling inside. From birthday parties to doctor's appointments, dinner plans to back to back meetings, we could all use an extra set of hands. That's where Duckbill comes in. Duckbill is like an executive assistant for your personal life, powered by AI and real humans who tackle your to do list so you don't have to. Because life is busy, it's messy, it's complicated, and Duckbill makes it a little bit easier. All you do is submit a task, and Duckbill gets on it fast. I've used Duckbill to stay on top of my calendar, schedule appointments, order thoughtful gifts, and even plan my podcast, launch party venue and all. Duckbill helps me show up for the people I love and take care of myself. So if your plate is too full, hand off a few things to Duckbill. Life is short. So duck it. Use code. Senseless. For 50% off your first two months at getduckbill.com that's getduckbill.com as the weather warms up, I feel that familiar urge to refresh my closet. But I'm not wasting money on pieces I'll only wear once or for just one season. Quince changes that their clothes are timeless, breathable, and feel far more luxurious than anything else. At this price, Quince has everything I need for summer, like 100% European linen shorts and dresses from $30 Italian leather platform sandals, luxury swimsuits, and so much more. One of the best parts of summertime to me is swimming. After my dad died, I spent a lot of time in the water because it's healing. My kids love swimming too, and this summer we're spending a lot of time at the pool. I just got the softest towels from Quince and the cutest one piece swimsuit for my daughter in this adorable strawberry print, her favorite fruit. The suit was half the cost of similar brands, and the material is rated UPF 50 for sun protection against UVA and UVB rays. Best of all, Quince only works with factories that use safe, ethical and responsible manufacturing practices, and premium fabrics and finishes give your summer closet an upgrade with quince. Go to quince.comsenseless for free shipping on your order and 365 day returns. That's Q-U-I-N-C-E.com senseless to get free shipping and 365 day returns. Quince.comsenseless.
- [13:37]
Claire Bidwell Smith
Tired of the same old political shouting matches and talking points?
- [13:42]
Erica Mahoney
Looking for thoughtful conversations that go beyond the headlines and help you understand issues that matter? I'm Sarah. And I'm Beth. Together we host Pantsuit Politics, a podcast.
- [13:50]
Claire Bidwell Smith
Where we bring grace, nuance, and perspective.
- [13:53]
Erica Mahoney
To the news because democracy deserves more than hot takes. Join us as we approach politics and current events with curiosity, empathy, and a commitment to understanding the bigger picture.
- [14:02]
Claire Bidwell Smith
If you want to stay informed without the anxiety, we're the show for you.
- [14:05]
Erica Mahoney
New episodes drop on Tuesdays and Fridays. Subscribe to Pantsuit Politics wherever you get your podcasts. The night before we left the hospital, I remember holding my daughter in bed, watching her every breath and every movement. I sobbed, staring at her tiny, wrinkly fingers, wondering how I would protect her in a world that didn't protect my dad. Back at home, Brant and I poured all of our love into our daughter. She kept us grounded in the repetitive acts of those long, newborn days and nights. There wasn't much time or space to process my grief and trauma. But they were there, lurking in the background. When I could sleep, I only had bad dreams. The nightmares were terrible, so real and exhausting. I'd wake up sweating, my heart pounding, and quickly look over at my daughter sleeping in the bassinet beside me to make sure she was still there and still breathing. Most nights, I dreamed about an intruder trying to break into our house. I was so anxious in those early days, in a constant state of survival even during the daytime. Intrusive thoughts poisoned my mind. Every time I left the house, I pictured a worst case scenario unfolding. The thought of going grocery shopping made me sick. So my husband started doing most of the errands. When our daughter was about a month old, I stepped outside my comfort zone. I knew I had to get out of the house and connect with other new moms and dads. So Brant and I joined a group called Parents Place. We gathered once a week at a red brick schoolhouse just blocks from the ocean. I felt safe there amid the playsets and veggie gardens. The classroom we met in was colorful, full of toys and books and rocking chairs. Best of all, our teacher was so kind and helpful. We'd sing songs to our babies and then our teacher would go over a specific topic, like baby proofing our homes. And then we'd just all cry together over the struggles of being new parents. Parents Place was essentially group therapy. I met some of my best friends there. Connected not only through having children at the same time, but by becoming parents amid the pandemic.
- [16:37]
Paola Beltran
I didn't know anyone who'd been in a pandemic and a new parent and feeling isolated like that and like scared of what's out there.
- [16:44]
Erica Mahoney
This is Paola Beltran, one of my best friends who I met at Parents Place.
- [16:48]
Paola Beltran
I think the best part of that was just like knowing that we were all having a shit time together. Like we were all just going through, like, just talking to everybody there and having almost everybody, like, feel the same things and feel validated at how shitty being a new mom during the pandemic is, was so validating because I definitely had this feeling of, like, this is supposed to be the happiest time of my life or like I'm supposed to be feeling all these positive, euphoric feelings. I just like, wasn't even connecting with my child the same because I felt like I was doing things wrong. And then having Parents Place and see that, like everybody was going through the same because we had this shared trauma. I think that's what made me feel human again.
- [17:28]
Erica Mahoney
After giving birth amid that shared trauma, I didn't feel comfortable enough at first to say anything about the mass shooting because it was like, here's another awful thing that happened and something else to worry about. But it was always on my mind. I felt ashamed too. Like I was dirty or contagious. What happened was so ugly and violent compared to the hopefulness and joy of Babyland. But one day it just all spilled out. We were having class outside that afternoon and it was a small group who showed up that week. We'd just finished whipping a colorful parachute up and down over our giggling babies when the teacher asked us to share something hard we were dealing with. I broke down choking over my words as I talked about my story. My husband Brant, finishing my sentences. Paola was there.
- [18:19]
Paola Beltran
That class, I mean, I just started crying. So I don't even know if I talked to you that day, but I just started crying. And I remember just thinking like, how hard it must be to have that huge loss and then at the same time be celebrating the life of your first child and how difficult balancing that must have been. And now ever since like, I had pretty bad postpartum and I didn't go through anything like that. And I remember just like often thinking about you and being like, how can somebody like, balance and be okay with feeling all that grief and at the same time accepting that it's okay to also feel happiness. Like, I feel like that's something that I thought of a lot at that time in regards to you.
- [19:06]
Erica Mahoney
After sharing, a sense of relief washed over me. I didn't have to play pretend anymore. I didn't have to hide this part of myself away. Isla Corrigan is another one of my best friends that I met at parents place. She started the class later on and vividly remembers the way she found out about what I was going through.
- [19:26]
Paola Beltran
My question that week was about how I was going to deal with going to my sister's wedding and having a one month old and like during COVID and all these things. And you're like, oh yeah, I can relate to this. I'm flying to Colorado at the same time. But I didn't know why you were going, and I think it was for the funeral.
- [19:47]
Erica Mahoney
We were a generation who grew up with mass shootings and now had children of our own. Their fragile little lives were our responsibility. Just over a year after the shooting that killed my dad, another young man opened fire at a supermarket in Buffalo, New York. Ten people were killed, the same number as the shooting at King Soopers. It was eerie how similar the details were, even though the motive was different. Then, ten days after that, the shooting at Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, happened. I was sitting at my desk at home editing a story when the breaking news alert popped up on my phone. The headline took my breath away. A shooting at an elementary school in Texas. That's when my first panic attack happened. I tried to focus on the feeling of my feet on the floor to stay present, but instead I was catapulted back into my own dark past. The flashbacks piled on top of each other until I was gulping for air. A cry from the baby monitor snapped me back. When my daughter woke up from her nap, I raced down the hallway to her crib. Hi, baby, I said, scooping her up into my arms. We swayed back and forth for a long time. I dumped a basket of toys onto the living room floor and sat her down. My plan was to take her to the farmer's market after she woke up, but there was no way we were going to leave the house now, and so we stayed, playing on the carpet where it was safe. I couldn't sleep that night. My body was in bed, but my heart was in Texas with the families who lost their babies, two teachers killed, and 19 children. I pictured my dad greeting each child with arms wide open, telling them everything was going to be okay and that he was there for them. All of my friends were devastated, too. At Parents Place, we started talking about homeschooling, and our children were only 12 months old. Even Paula, who's an elementary school teacher.
- [22:00]
Paola Beltran
Then I talk to you about like, do we even send our kids to school? Like, sending them to school doesn't feel safe. Keeping them at home doesn't like to me at least. Like, I have never envisioned homeschooling as something I want to do in my lifetime for me or my children. Like I love them too much to want them stuck at home with me all day, every day.
- [22:18]
Erica Mahoney
Two days after Uvalde, I found myself lying on the carpet again, falling deeper into my depression. I felt stale and empty and numb. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't. It was like my body wasn't mine anymore. I knew I needed help. I couldn't go on living like this, brushing my feelings under the rug, hiding behind motherhood, not being able to feel anything at all. That evening, I emailed a grief therapist I stumbled upon through a podcast of all things Claire Bidwell Smith. She'd written several books on loss, including a memoir called the Rules of Inheritance, about losing both of her parents to cancer when she was a young adult. I was shocked when she emailed me back. We planned to meet on Zoom. Little did I know Claire was going to break me open and help me heal, not by sugarcoating my loss, but by holding my hand as I finally began to really grieve. That's something she says our culture isn't very good at.
- [23:18]
Claire Bidwell Smith
We have a really hard time holding space for people when they're in pain. We want to fix it, we want to make it better. We want to come up with solutions. We want to look at the positive side, and that's not what's needed.
- [23:34]
Erica Mahoney
Facing my pain to begin moving forward. That's after the break. I'm Erica Mahoney, and this is Senseless. Stay with us.
- [23:50]
Paola Beltran
Are you looking for ways to make your everyday life happier, healthier, more productive, and more creative? I'm Gretchen Rubin, the number one bestselling author of the Happiness Project, bringing you fresh insights and practical solutions in the Happier with Gretchen Rubin podcast. My co host and happiness guinea pig.
- [24:06]
Erica Mahoney
Is my sister, Elizabeth Craft. That's me, Elizabeth Craft, a TV writer and producer in Hollywood. Join us as we explore ideas and hacks about cultivating happiness and good habits.
- [24:17]
Paola Beltran
Check out Happier with Gretchen Rubin from Lemonada Media.
- [24:22]
Erica Mahoney
The first time I met with Claire Bidwell Smith for therapy over Zoom, I knew immediately she was the right fit for me. It had been just over a year since my dad was killed in a mass shooting, and I was still scared to feel. Claire says that's normal.
- [24:37]
Claire Bidwell Smith
It is normal. It's so hard, it's so scary. And again, we're in a culture that doesn't support it. We don't have daily rituals around it.
- [24:46]
Erica Mahoney
One of the first things Claire had me do was tell her my story, all the details of my dad's last day. I was terrified to say everything out loud, as though I would fall into a black hole of grief and never see light again. But to feel sadness is to feel love, because grief is love. So afterwards, I felt this huge sense of relief getting the story out of my body, handing it over to someone else who wanted to listen and cared. Claire encouraged me to write letters to my dad. When I sat down at my desk and typed out Dear dad on my laptop, my tears fell, finally began to fall. This is one of the first letters I wrote, and it turned out to be more of a poem. To know someone hurt your body so carelessly tears me apart Memories tarnished in a matter of seconds the future torn out from under our feet. I couldn't bear to see you in the funeral home. I didn't want that image to be the last. Mom said your body didn't even look like you, that your soul had already transcended. She described the white bandage that covered your ear. And she mentioned your fingernails were bruised. I can't help but wonder about your last moments on earth. Did you fall? Were you scared? The body is important to the living. But now you are free of yours. You are light. You are neither here nor there. And so I see you everywhere. I see a man in his car who looks like you. I see a sushi roll and I'm rushed back to our father daughter dates. I see an action movie and we're back in the theater laughing at Iron man while eating gummy worms and popcorn. I see simple things like my razor. And I remember you were the one who helped me shave my legs for the first time. I see water. And I imagine you holding Brynn in the pool. I can see it so clearly. You're spinning her around and she's laughing, her head in a sun hat tilted back, looking up at a bluebird sky. I look down at my own hands and I see you. I got your hands, Dad. I carry you everywhere I go. With love, your daughter, Aerie forever.
- [27:05]
Claire Bidwell Smith
When you're writing a letter to someone, you're almost imagining how they would receive it. Even if they're not here physically anymore, you can still kind of. You start to write dear dad, and you can imagine how he would receive this letter, the things that you would tell him in it. And when we lose someone we love, I think in the beginning we think that that relationship is just over and we can't talk to them anymore, we can't commune with them anymore. And that's not true. And when we try to do that, when we try to just cut that relationship off, that's when this deep sense of incongruence happens on a soul level. I've seen a lot of people have really profound breakthroughs around guilt or shame or mistakes they feel like they've made when they're able to write letters to their. We can move some of these pieces that we can. Where we can get stuck in our grief. And letter writing just becomes like a very powerful tool for that.
- [27:57]
Erica Mahoney
Yeah. And what you just said, too, about talking with your person reminded me. When I was doing therapy with you, I can't remember what the question was, but it was something I just really, really wished that my dad could have given me advice on. And you said, just ask him, like, you kind of know what he's gonna say. You know him, you spent 30 years with him. And so that was such a game changer for me because, you know, you'd said sometimes the conversations are one sided. It can feel like that. But also I could actually, like, hear his voice. And that was really comforting. It was almost like, why didn't I think of that?
- [28:39]
Claire Bidwell Smith
No, but most people, I mean, I think they. We really assume that the relationship is over, but it's not. You known somebody for 30 years, 10 years even, you know how they would respond to something. You can ask them something as simple as, like, what do you think I should make for dinner? And you could, you can imagine the way they would respond, the joke they would make, or the tone of their voice, or their recipe suggestion. They would be like, don't forget to make grandma's, whatever. And so those things are there for us to access, and we just have to give ourselves that permission. And when we do, it just feels so good to be back in that communication.
- [29:16]
Erica Mahoney
As I learned to connect with my dad in new ways, from letter writing to just talking to him out loud and spreading some of his ashes in the ocean, Claire gave me the courage to face the deepest parts of my pain. I couldn't go see my dad in the funeral home as I wrote in my letter, because I couldn't bear the thought that my dad's end was painful. And I knew seeing his battered body would remind me of that. As much as we want a painless birth, we also want a painless death. To die in our sleep, peacefully. But that's not always how things go. Police told me my dad was returning his shopping cart when he was gunned down. And I knew from a call with the coroner that he had been shot four times in the back. So for a long time, when I replayed my dad's final moments over and over in my head, just guessing how it unfolded, I pictured my dad oblivious to the entire thing since he was the second person killed. I pictured him just returning his cart and then dying quickly and painlessly leaving this earth as we know it without even seeing the shooter. But something told me that's not what happened. And I needed to know exactly what happened. I needed to know so that I could start to accept how he left this earth. During a trip home to Boulder about a year and a half after the shooting, I asked my victim, witness specialist Lindsey Bravdika from the district Attorney's office, to meet me at King Soopers and walk me through my dad's final moments.
- [30:51]
Lindsey Bravdika
By the time you and I went to the parking lot. It changed. The outside of the building changed, the parking lot changed. Some things had changed. So my concern at that point in time was just making sure I gave you the right information and just double triple checking before I even left the office about, you know, where your father was at and what it looked like now versus then.
- [31:11]
Erica Mahoney
At first there was talk about permanently closing the supermarket, but most of the community wanted their neighborhood grocery store back to reclaim the space. The store reopened just shy of the one year anniversary of the shooting, following a major remodel that features a new exterior and entryway. There's now a security guard up front and a memorial on the west side of the parking lot featuring 10 aspen trees, one for each person killed. Lindsay says she was concerned about making sure she gave me the right information. Given all the changes.
- [31:44]
Lindsey Bravdika
That just felt really important to me that you get the most accurate information that you could, especially us being the first time there. I would want that as well if it was my family member. So I think it was just more about making sure I did right by you.
- [31:58]
Erica Mahoney
My husband Brandt, came with us, holding my hand the entire time. As the three of us walked into the center of the parking lot, I felt like we were the only ones there. Lindsay's words were hard to grasp as she explained that my dad was over there, saw the shooter, and tried to run across the parking lot. But there was nowhere to hide. Then she pointed to a spot on the pavement. The spot where my dad died. The spot I saw on national television, my dad's crumpled body, face down and motionless. That's when the world around me began to spin. Everything looked blurry as the colors of the store, the shiny cars in the parking lot and the pavement blended together. In that moment, a young couple came skipping out the front door of the store, upbeat and laughing, carrying their grocery bags. From tunnel vision to a bigger picture. I suddenly grew aware of all the people just going about their day around us. We were not alone. Life goes on.
- [32:59]
Lindsey Bravdika
It's a very busy place. And seeing it now, too. I always wonder if people know, walking in, right, that what has occurred there or just even the trees, what they mean, being at the front of the building. And I don't think that everybody does. And that is very unique to be standing in a parking lot with you, knowing that your father was killed there and people are coming in and out and just have no idea what we're doing or why we're standing in the middle of the road. So I can only imagine what that was like for you, but it really Trauma doesn't go away, but life does continue.
- [33:37]
Erica Mahoney
That day, standing in the parking lot, I realized that piecing together my dad's final moments wouldn't make me feel better. But I was proud. I faced the truth so all the what ifs could dissolve. I began to swap imaginations about my dad's death for happy memories, like the two of us sitting poolside, the sun warming our bare feet, or hiking the trail behind our house as a family looking for native wildflowers. And I forgave myself for not going to see his body in the funeral home because I know deep down my dad doesn't want me to remember him by the way he died, but by the way he lived. And understanding that was freeing. I'm Erica Mahoney, and this is Senseless, a podcast about moving forward after the unthinkable. Coming up on Senseless in the wake of grief and trauma, finding a new path is one way of moving forward. For my husband and me, that meant moving back to Boulder to rediscover its beauty.
- [34:46]
Brandt
For a while there was, there was this, like, shadow over Boulder. Moving here. It was like we were able to just take it on full force and, you know, be with your family. And I think it's been amazing for you, especially to like, reconnect with these memories you had from your childhood.
- [35:09]
Erica Mahoney
That's next time on Senseless. Senseless is written and reported by me, Erica Mahoney. I'm your host and executive producer. Christa Almanzon is our senior producer and executive editor. Original music, sound design and mastering by Hannis Brown audio editing and sound mixing by Jeremiah Edding, plus original music by Daniel Wideline. This podcast was made possible by support from Community Foundation Boulder county and the Boulder County Arts Alliance. The episode was recorded at Coop Studios in Boulder, Colorado. And special thanks to KGNU Community Radio in Boulder. Two executive producers for Lemonada Media are Jessica Cordova Kramer and Stephanie Whittles. Wax. Thanks so much for listening. You can follow Senseless wherever you get your podcasts or listen ad free on Amazon Music with your prime membership. If you haven't yet, now is a great time to subscribe to Lemonada Premium. You'll get exclusive content from Senseless, where we take a deeper dive into the web of pain caused by gun violence through extended conversations and fresh interviews. Just hit the subscribe button on Apple Podcasts. Or for all other podcast apps, head to lemonadapremium.com that's lemonadapremium.com and coming up in the fourth premium episode. It felt like I was approaching a monster because the parking lot was empty. It was 10:30pm it was a little dusting of snow, and it just looked so ominous. My friend Olivia McKenzie, who lost her mom in the King Sooper shooting, faces her pain, too by confronting the scene just like I did. Listen to her story now with Lemonada Premium, I'm Erica Mahoney. See you next time.