with Izzy, the world’s sweetest dog/person. Only crazy/sweet/generous people are willing to host our wild bunch for a sleepover/birthday party/ski day. And the Garlick’s do it in style– scrumptious dinner served on a beautifully set table, beds piled with homemade quilts, games and presents and laughter. We all felt thoroughly spoiled and deliciously, delightfully well-loved.
Gorgeous quilts of every pattern imaginable are draped over couches, railings and hung on walls everywhere in Lisa’s house. I scarcely have enough adjectives to describe the artistry– stunning, detailed, colorful, unbelievably beautiful.
We meant to go to bed early in preparation for our ski day, but the hours sped by as we played ping pong, told jokes and snuggled with Izzy the dog.
Pre-skiing fuel means banana pancakes with buttermilk syrup and fresh berries. My children were in absolute awe.
Dedicated spandex afficionados, our cute chef and Chet served up the amazing breakfast. Really, I wasn’t going to giggle until Dean put on his man Uggs…and then I couldn’t resist.
Jocie’s motto: “Go big or go home.”
Our first priority was skiing to Jocie’s monument. It rests at the top of the lift– not at the place she died, but a place she loved. A spot where she laughed with friends and family as they made plans to ski one more run or make their way to another hill.
One of Jocie’s friends just happened by and took this photo for us. I came to learn that everyone at Beaver Mountain knows Jiggy.
While Dean took the big boys in the back country, I warmed in the lodge with my littles.
As we listened to friends and family greet each other, share lunches and hugs and stories in the lodge, I got a feel for Beaver Mountain. It’s a family resort, a place where people watch out for each other’s children, share french fries and scoot over to make room for one more person at the table. I recognized some of the Garlick’s neighbors and they welcomed us like old friends.
After Jocie’s death, you might think the Garlick’s would throw away their skis and abandon the sport. But their Jiggy-girl would have hated that– she loved the white hill, the blue sky, the rush of wind on her face– she would want her family to share that passion.
And after my time in the lodge, I could see the entire community needed the Garlick’s there, to relish life, teach their children how to make a pizza pie and slow even turns and stand on a mountain and feel God.
A dozen fresh gorgeous roses lay on the base of Jocie’s monument– no card, no expectation of thanks– just the quiet reminder Jocelyn Garlick will never be forgotten.