Welcome to My Daily Blog
This is where I get a bit more personal. Carefully I tread, seeking to reflect on the many challenges life has given me to grow from with both honesty & wisdom.
My name is Jillian, and I love to write. Thanks for joining me!
Me & The Rattler. Summer, 2002 , Appalachia.
March 12, 2025
Summer 2002 I was scheduled for ten days in deep Appalachia with my Nanna. Five days in and I’d both settled into a daily routine walking the woods with my 40lb pack and adopted a ‘trail name’ which every AT hiker does at some point. The sooner the better I’d heard, so by day two I was calling myself Little Rock. My Nanna was Running Brook.
I learned the first day that walking at any pace slower than your natural one caused considerable pain. So though it saddened me at first to realize I would not be doing much hiking with my Nanna, I soon discovered the peace of true solace–simply being alone with one’s thoughts, the earth, and the trees, only needing to pay attention to ‘blazes’ the white marks on various trees that ensure you stay on the trail.
I did have a watch with me which is how my Nanna & I decided upon our daily system. I would walk no longer than 2 hours alone and then I would wait for her and her friend Phyllis to catch up. We’d all share a snack, then repeat. This rhythm flowed thrice each day, with our last meal together being at the chosen encampment for the night. When I would arrive at the chosen trail shelter I’d immediately set down my heavy pack and just breath on my back for a while before writing at length in the shelter’s logbook.
This particular habit made me some friends. I met many people who hiked at a faster pace than I who had been reading my entries and enjoying them that caught up to me–and told me so. It was when I first knew that I wanted to be a writer, and actually had a fighting chance at being successful at it. They couldn’t believe I was only 15, saying my words & writing style made them think I was at least 10 years older. The trail provides. Truly. Eventually my new friends & I would say goodbye as I had to wait for my Nanna & Phyllis.
I loved every minute of it. Never before had I been given such a golden chance of getting to know myself. The sunlight streaming through the trees, the bird song, the heart wrenching beauty of the wildflowers and that strange feeling you get when walking a narrow rock path on the edge of a cliff all combined to help me process some really difficult moments I had experienced in my 15 years thus far at that point in time.
And I made peace with so much of it. There is a very big part of me that wishes I had been able to stay in those woods, living that hiker life for another two years, for what awaited me outside of those woods when the trip was over was more pain & challenge, not less. I know for a fact I needed the therapy of God’s innermost natural sanctuary for much longer than those ten days at that time in my life. I know that had I been given it, there are so many wounds that took me years to heal which never would have been possible to create. Still, it remains to this day one of the most meaningful experiences I have ever had.
Building fires each night, meeting amazing people on the trail, writing at the end of each day walking 8-10 miles in deep nature. It was incredible.
One of my most memorable moments–and there were many, was when I had been hiking with the quirkiest, kindest, most wild bearded man I had ever met. He was in his early 20’s and talked to me about many fantastical concepts. I soaked it all in. He seemed to know most of the latin names for the plants we passed, as well as loads of other fascinating information–it was from him that I first learned about quantum physics, string theory, and the interconnectedness of everything.
I was listening deeply as he lectured happily when suddenly he came to a dead stop.
“That’s a rattler right there. You’re going to have to wait for your grandmother here so you can warn her, because he is quite hidden.”
I knew he was right, so though I was incredibly disappointed to say goodbye, I put my pack down and waited.
And waited.
And waited some more.
Finally curiosity got the best of me & I decided I would try and take the rattler’s picture.
Slowly I pulled out my camera, inched closer, and snapped a shot.
He didn’t like that. Immediately the snake hissed, drew up his rattle, and began to shake it at me.
“Okay, fine, fine, you don’t like having your picture taken.” I said while slowly backing away, knowing it was all a show but still feeling my heart beating extra fast & hard inside my ribcage.
Not long after this Nanna & Phyllis arrived. I calmly warned them of the situation and my Nanna was incredibly grateful, saying over & over again she likely would have stepped on it and died had I not waited, how good of me it was to do that.
But it had simply been the right thing to do.
The next day my Nanna hurt her knee and I had to enlist the help of a boyscouts camp to help get her to a nearby motel where we ended up staying for the remainder of our trip. This was before the days of uber.
I did not like returning to civilization. It felt incredibly foreign, loud, and far too fast. Except for the hot shower. I stayed in for nearly an hour!
Nanna & Phyllis set up taxi’s for our last few days on the trail. Nanna had managed to get some sort of a prescription that allowed her to keep walking, she was so determined to make the most of the trail, as she was a section hiker. Her goal was always to make it to Katonah by the end of her life–which sadly she never did. All those marathons she ran late in life really tore up her knees in my opinion.
She apologized numerous times for slowing us all down the next few days but I didn’t mind. The whole experience had taught me so much, introduced me to a world I had no idea even existed but which felt more like home to me than ‘home’ ever had. I made a promise to myself that one day I would return, and hike the whole AT all the way through start to finish.
I have yet to achieve that goal, but I know one day I will, and when I do, my Nanna will be with me in spirit, walking with me every step of the way.
Nanna Dies.
March 11, 2025
April 15th, 2024 my beloved Nanna, Alice Davis Mackenzie, mother of my mother, died at the age of 95 due to heart failure. Four years after certain members of my family insisted she begin taking every COVID vaccine possible. Maybe there is a connection, maybe not.
She had run marathons into her 60’s, which can cause the heart to become enlarged and increase risk of heart-related issues as one ages.
Either way, as an unvaccinated member of my family I was required by her gatekeepers, two of my aunts, to keep extreme distance from her.
After spending my first 18 years living just over a mile away from my Nanna, seeing her often multiple times a week, this distance was incredibly painful. Especially as she became weaker and weaker, and encouraged to take booster after booster of the Covid vaccine.
Nanna & I had birthdays just days apart, which we celebrated together many times. She taught me how to cook, took me on my first bona fide hiking adventure in Appalachia for 10 days when I was 15, and was my pen pal after I moved away to college.
She never judged me and we enjoyed a close bond despite the fact I didn’t get to visit her as much as I’d have liked after I married in 2011. I never treated her as anything other than someone I loved very, very much. We just got each other, and that was that. We could enjoy each other’s company greatly without ever even needing to speak. Although when we did converse our talks were always easy & at the same time full of meaning & connection.
I never spoke to her as if she was somehow limited by her age or at the end of her life by her illness. I know for a fact she respected this about me. She was truly sharp up until the very end. The only physical tell to me that she would soon pass was that each time I saw her she was illuminated by light more & more, as if her physical body was transforming cell by cell into pure light energy as she approached her last breath.
I managed to visit her about once every two months, driving into Winter Park from Sarasota as early as I could managed because up until less than a week before she passed, she continued to take a power walk, albeit with her walker & accompanied by her Hospice nurse, and I loved to join her.
She’d comment on what was currently blooming, how the neighborhood continued to change, remark at how big the new houses being built were, with a bit of local gossip sprinkled in.
In short, my Nanna was an amazing, dynamic, ever curious, often mischievous, powerful and reflective woman who loved nature, art, beautiful things, daily crossword puzzles, NPR or classical music always in the background out of her 80’s era radio–the kind kids used to carry around on their shoulders and bop to, and especially her family & 30+ grandchildren (multiple great grand children!).
Everyone–all 6 of her kids–got together for her 95th birthday two weeks before she passed. It was a bittersweet occasion for me as I’ve experienced much betrayal on the part of several family members over the last 5 years.
When the people you used to play Power Rangers with for hours on end when you were all kids, people you grew up with, people who are your blood relation, walk by you & your child and pretend you’re invisible at the last birthday party your mutual grandmother will ever have, it feels pretty terrible.
But that last birthday party wasn’t about me–it was to celebrate my Nanna. So I kept a smile on my face and love radiating out to everyone regardless of how they treated me because that’s what my Nanna deserved at her last birthday party in her lifetime here on earth. Regardless of the fact it was a tremendous feat of emotional & spiritual strength, it also required me to keep sunglasses on the entire time lest the tears I kept sucking back in started to fall. I am human after all, and my heart has always been both big & wide open.
At her funeral four weeks later I sat alone with my son and Dad, who came to support me, while much of my family ignored my presence, not even saying hello before the service started. I realized morbidly in that little Episcopal church with terrible HVAC that her birthday party had been a sort of dress rehearsal for this final event to remember and celebrate her life.
The picture I included here is me taking a moment in the bathroom alone to collect myself after the service had ended and most of my family was getting heavily inebriated in the catered gathering provided post-funeral. When I feel myself being affected in destabilizing ways by a particular environment I am in, I seek out solace and peace ASAP. In that situation the only spot available was the water closet. I took a picture to remind myself of the moment, of how strong I am, and also since I had spent 3 hours meticulously getting myself ready. For I wanted to honor my grandmother in every way possible, she always loved when I wore classic, stylish & timeless glamour. So that’s how I showed up.
I did not choose to join my family in post-funeral drinking. As I drank my last alcoholic drink in September of 2023. It just wreaks havoc on the brain & body & is literally pure poison, and did nothing for me, so when I decided I was done, it happened quite easily. It doesn’t bother me to be around it or people drinking it. I feel mostly neutral toward alcohol, at most feeling pity towards those who drink it regularly because they are putting pure toxicity their bodies with it, but I fully support everyone’s right to choice.
It is quite evident how sloppy it makes people who drink it. Not to mention self-centered and overly emotional. My blood relations at the funeral that day were no exception.
I looked around at the caste system that was the Mackenzie Family in that gathering hall at that little church my Nanna had attended the last few years of her life, and felt my heart contract painfully. The death of our Matriarch seemed only to highlight how divided we’d all become.
The ridiculously self-obsessed pixie of a pastor who had led the service flitted around the gathering hall like she owned the place. Who knows, maybe she did. She had immediately claimed to know ‘exactly who’ I was when I met her before the service with a gaiety in her voice that felt inappropriate for the occasion. She gazed into my eyes with an ego-originating intensity that caused my stomach to turn, as if she was enjoying meeting all the characters in the reality tv like version of my Nanna’s last five years on this earth that she had been hearing intimate details about for just as long.
I could never have imagined my Nanna’s funeral playing out as it did. The only enjoyable part was when I got to chat at length with two of my Nanna’s best friends whom she always thought she would outlive. Then one of my drunk Aunts came over and sort of ruined the moment but oh well, big surprise.
Because it’s not death that brings people together, it’s LIFE. And the only people that remained immune to the divisions and betrayals and unspoken but viscerally felt biases swirling around the gathering hall that day were the great grandkids, aged 12 and under. Their laughter & play music to my ears as the adults walked with more stumble and sway and food pieces on their faces they increasingly failed to notice due to the numbing effects induced by the copious volume of alcohol they continued to imbibe.
Leave a Reply