With one ridge fading into the next, each a little softer than the one before it, these old mountain ridges feel like not-so-distant memories.

And just like memories, some things remain sharp, while others fade with time and distance.

Grief has taught me that memory can look a lot like this. Some moments remain so very close and unmistakable, while others become less defined, never truly disappearing.

After losing my dad this past January, I have found myself moving back and forth between those distances, between what feels painfully near and what already feels impossibly far away.

Standing at the top of the ridge, I noticed the mountains seemed to disappear the farther I looked, but I knew they were still there - much like the memories I continue to hold close.