Many Ways to Remember
It has been nearly 13 years since our son Brian died as a result of a line of duty accident in his role as a paramedic captain. Over the years I have made some peace with his death. I can truly say he did more in his 33 years to live the passion of his profession than most people do in a lifetime. And still, the ache of a mother always resides just below the surface.
Our son Brian
I, and other family and friends, remember Brian in a wide assortment of ways. This fall has held a surprising convergence of memories, ceremonies, and acknowledgments of the fine work our beloved son did for Denver Health paramedics.
Every Day
A few weeks after Brian died, I took his captain emblem into our local jeweler, told him Brian’s story and asked if he could create a pocket token for me to carry. And every day since the jeweler created it, I have carried that talisman, talking to Brian as I slip it into a secure pocket. Every day is an easy commitment. Being a mom is, after all, a forever assignment.
The pocket talisman made from Brian’s captain bars that I always carry in my pocket.
A Tattoo
My extended family held a reunion in Colorado this June. (see my June blog: https://annlinnea.com/summer-family-reunion-circle/). We miss Brian in these settings, he ALWAYS attended family gatherings. So, it came as no surprise to daughter Sally, Christina, and me, sitting around an outdoor fire ring at YMCA Camp of the Rockies, to have a raven swoop low over us sounding its ethereal croak. Ever since his November 2013 death, each of us has had uncanny experiences of a raven showing up to signal spiritual presence.
We teared up and acknowledged this “Brian moment.” Then Sally turned to me and asked, “Would you ever consider getting a raven tattoo with me?”
Sally and Ann with their new tattoos
Pausing for quite some time, I said, “Well I did not think I would ever be drawn to have a tattoo, but this is a spiritual question and, yes, I would do this with you.” What journeys our kids take us on! They work to hold the values of our generation and invite us into the values of theirs.
We set about finding the right LA tattoo parlor near Sally’s home and a raven image that worked for us. During my recent visit, we handed our tattoo artists the watercolor drawing our friend Kelly Anderson had given me several years ago.
My annual solo camping trip
I have taken an annual solo camping trip every year since Brian’s death to scatter ashes and to spend time journal writing and in ceremony. This year the journey was also a celebration of my recovery from hip surgery in December 2025.
Ann’s Deer Park Campground site
Deer Park campground in the Olympic National Park (5,400 feet) is located up an 8.5 mile narrow, steep dirt road. It is a first-come-first-served campground with only 14 remote sites. Feeling lucky, I set up camp and took a short hike above the campground to Blue Mountain (6,000 feet). On one side of the ridge the Strait of Juan de Fuca stretched out below me across to Vancouver Island and out to the Pacific Ocean. On the other side of the ridge the Olympic mountains spread out at eye level before me.
Framed by subalpine fir at treeline, looking 6,000 feet below to the Strait of Juan de Fuca and Vancouver Island beyond.
From Blue Mountain looking towards the spectacular ridges of the Olympic Mountains
On the second day, fog swirled all around camp, limiting visibility to sometimes no more than 100 feet. There would be no hiking off trail on this day, no getting lost. Setting off on the Deer Ridge Trail with my pack and safety gear, I left a message under a rock on the picnic table at my site.
Note left on my campground site picnic table.
I was hoping to find an old growth Douglas fir tree just below treeline—an elder to guard Brian’s ashes. After about an hour, I found exactly the tree I was hoping for and set up a simple altar for my ceremony.
By first light, day three, the temperature was 42 degrees F.(5.5 degrees C.), the wind was blowing, and the rain was coming across the valley. I had worked hard to plan and prepare for this trip. But autumn is a changeable month in the high country, and I heard the voice of my paramedic son urging me to take care of myself. I had pushed my edges and remained safe. Brian’s ashes were scattered in yet another wild place. The spiritual aspects of camping had been accomplished, so I took down my camp and came home.
Brian Schimpf Memorial Scholarship
After Brian’s death, friends and family established the Brian Schimpf Memorial Scholarship to assist paramedic students enrolling in the Denver Health Paramedic School where Brian taught part-time in addition to his paramedic duties. Knowing the challenges to get traditional financial aid, we established this scholarship to help those with the greatest financial burden.
Since the beginning of this program, we have supported 35 students totaling $89,000. The Brian Schimpf Memorial Scholarship is now a single $3,000 award paid directly to the school account of the winning students who must submit a 500-word essay and their current W-2 forms for consideration. Awards are given three times/year for each of the 6-month, the 9-month, and the year-long training programs. Brian’s father and I, a paramedic friend, and one of Brian’s lifelong friends read the applications and decide the award.
The scholarship application letter is sent to students who have been accepted into the paramedic school: “Brian Schimpf was a respected and proud paramedic for the Denver Health Paramedic division. He embodied the true spirit and passion of a paramedic in both his skill for providing the best care to his patients and in his dedication to training the future generations of EMS workers. Brian was gravely injured while responding to a call in Grand County in 2012 and after a valiant battle and multiple surgeries passed away from complications following a surgery in 2013. After his passing, family and friends came together hoping to honor and keep his spirit and passion for EMS alive through a scholarship to help paramedic students at the beginning of their journey.”
This year the Denver Health Foundation which houses the scholarship approached us and acknowledged the success of the program. “We even have students inquiring about the scholarship before the announcement about its availability goes out to accepted students,” they wrote. They asked if we would be a part of endowing the scholarship in perpetuity. We are in dialogue with them to see if this can happen and insure that the scholarship continues beyond both his aging mother and father’s ability to carry it on.
November 23
Every year on the anniversary of Brian’s death, Christina and I spend the day in nature to write in our journals, scatter more of Brian’s ashes and share reflections, and of course, to have a good meal out. Brian loved his food!
Ann blowing an eagle whistle during her annual Nov. 23 ceremony for scattering Brian’s ashes
Losses are part of life. And these losses impact us in many ways. Dear-Readers-Who-Also-Have-Lost-a-Beloved, what rituals, ceremonies, or honoring do you keep? We are each on powerful and personal journeys, yet, not alone in our grief. I would love to hear some reflections from you.
It’s so beautiful how you keep Brian’s memory alive. You inspire me to mark the anniversary of my mother’s passing in some significant way rather than just thinking of her on that day. Thank
you Ann.
Thank you, Glenda.Yes, thinking about my mother’s upcoming birthday. She would have been 100. Will mark that in some way. Blessings, Ann
Soren taught me to say 3 gratitudes before I fall asleep each night. I touch Great Lakes stones I have in a blue glass-blown bowl he gave me our last Christmas together
And I pray for you and Brian when I pray for other members of my family who have walked on.
Oh, Marina, this is beautiful. Thank you for sharing this ritual and for including Briana and I in your prayers. Ann
Oh Ann…I cried reading about saying “yes” to the raven tattoo. You and Christina are my gold star standards for creating meaningful ceremony. This thoughtfully written post tells us how. I bow in respect for grief’s persistent, reminding presence, for Brian’s well-lived life, and for all the ways community – human and the more than human – hold you and him in love.
Dear Katharine, Your kind words are exquisite and wise. Thank you. A bow of appreciation. Ann
I felt tears well up as I read about Brians generous and skillful heart and all he brought to this world, and also thanks to you, his big hearted mother. Thanks for sharing his life with us, and also to know how his legacy lives on through the support of future paramedics…. gratitiude . love Anne
Dear Anne, So glad to bring the story of Brian’s fine life forward again. He has left an important legacy that will always live on. Love, Ann
Beautiful. And I love that you and Sally got matching Raven tattoos.
I’m about to spread some of my mom’s ashes at a place that was special to her in Nevada; I believe part of her soul resides there and it feels right to be taking some of her ashes there.
Love to you my dear friend.
Dear Laura, With appreciation for sharing your own ritual with your mom’s ashes. I follow your belief that part of her soul resides in that special place in Nevada. Blessed ritual and rest for her. Ann
Beautiful, Annie. You brought Brian alive for me…
👋❤️🥰😋
Hello Julie, Thank you. Bringing Brian alive to my readers is part of what I hope would happen. Love, Ann
Thank you so much for sharing this. Such a beautiful tribute and it really brings home the message that those we love live on in our hearts long past that last breath. I loved reading about the raven as well. I know them to be messengers from beyond too. A friend and I hike together often and in the shadow of the mountain a raven appears as if on cue. We know it to be a message from our dearly departed Diana. With my Dad, it is a hawk. Angels and their wings, forever with us 💜
Dear Bonnie, I appreciate your sharing about the raven and the hawk. Indeed, “angels and their wings, forever with us.” Ann
I’m so glad to read your words this morning Ann. Smiling, the tender kind. I love your reflections on Brian. And on ceremony. And on remembering. What delight to see your Ravens, you and Sally. I shared the story with Dana. We both smiled extra. Much love.
Dear Tenneson, So appreciate you writing. Your poet heart and words are always so tender. Bless you, Ann
Ann, This is so loving & inspiring. I’m forwarding it to our daughter & son-in-law who work at Univ. of CO Med Center in Denver. Just a thought — however, it seems like something for Good News Network. Blessings & gratitude . . .
Hello Sherry! Good to hear your voice. I do believe remembering our loved ones is a very universal story. Ann
Oh, Ann. Lovely, lovely. I love that you said yes to the raven. I love your ritual rememberings. I see, and honor, my parents in everything that shows up unexpectedly and attentively. The hummingbirds that hang around my deck, and often hover in front of my face. The eagle that swoops close to the house. The owl that calls in the dark. The heart rocks on the trail. Comfort finds us. All is well with our beloveds. 💜
Dear Gretchen, You are literally the hearth keeper of your family home. Of course, your mother and father often make spirit visits. And what a beautiful teaching for us all that you recognize that.”Comfort finds us. All is well with our beloveds.” Thank you and love, Ann
Dearest Ann, I can’t stop weeping this morning after reading your post. They’re good, cleansing tears. How I love the photo of you and Sally and your tattoos!
I have been feeling the ancestors drawing close each morning when I wake up to mist and fog. My boy died 36 years ago and I still miss him every day. For many years, I planted a tree or shrub every year on the anniversary of his death, in each home or neighborhood where I was living. Last year I planted a miniature lilac in my little condo garden. No one but me knows it’s for him. (And now, you.) Much love.
Thank you, dear Joanna, for sharing both your vulnerability and your rituals. As Gretchen wrote in her comment, “Comfort find us. All is well with our beloveds.” That is a great comfort to me. May it be to you, as well. Love, Ann
Ann…I’m sure Brian, wherever it is that his raven spirit soars now, felt all the love rising toward Source not only from you and Christina and Sally, but also from all of us who hold his story dear as well. A bow of reverence for reminding us of the importance of ceremony for those we love.
Thank you for your beautiful, kind words, Meredith. Ann
Dear Ann,
Sorry, I hadn’t heard about your son’s loss. What a heartfelt post! Saw Christina on a zoom meeting recently. Thanks for a good example of how to memorialize someone’s loss. We have barely dealt with the deaths of our parents years ago, thinking of myself and my siblings, not having any rituals around those losses. I appreciated what I learned from you and Christina about the importance of circle rituals. One of the things I remember about you two is the concept of the different kinds of quest, incremental quest vs. heroic quest, like the example of C’s journal and your kayak trip around Lake Superior. It’s been so helpful to honor incremental quests. Sincere hugs for you all.
Hello Jennifer! With appreciation for your words. Remembering parents when a significant birthday comes around can be both fun and a way to revive their memories.Feeling your support, Ann
Ann,
From the Land of Enchantment, I
send hugs of love and remembrance for this exquisitely beautiful post in Brian’s memory. I am sorry I couldn’t make that lunch—but hope for a raincheck when I’ve returned to Washington state after October 21. Miss you and still loving that Raven! Xxoo pammy jean p.s. big hugs to christina too. 💙
Hello Psmmie! Appreciate that you have taken time to write. Safe travels and we will look forward to that lunch when you return. Blessings, Ann
Dear Aunt Ann,
Thank you for writing this. I hold so much admiration for the way you openly share about your grieving heart and ceremonies to honor Brian. I would love to do something with more time and intent when my life allows for it. Being a toddler mom has shown me to that incorporating grieving and acknowledging the loss is a smaller, more intentional way during the most simple moments. Pointing out every yellow jeep to little August, playing with fire trucks and ambulances and telling him about “Big B” and how he saved many lives and was the bravest, most kind hearted cousin his Mama had. And, now that Dave dropped off a huge load of Brian’s old matchbox trucks, planes and cars, we will be doling them out slowly and sharing stories about Brian for a long time.
I absolutely love yours and Sally’s tattoos! The raven called, and you both answered. What a bold, beautiful ritual to do together.
Love you,
Molly
Dearest Molly! Oh my goodness, thank you for taking the time to write! These are beautiful rituals to share with a young, active toddler. And bless Dave for bringing over those Legos so Big B’s memory will have another tangible element. Each memory, each sharing is an important ritual. We must not doubt that for a minutes. With love and respect, Aunt Ann
One thing in life we can’t control is saying goodbye. In 2023 my youngest sister passed away from stage four breast cancer. I remember I had made plans for her to go to hospice care. But during the night she passed away. Regrettably she left alone. All the best for you and your family always.
Dear Larry, So sorry for your loss. And your words are so true, “We can’t control when to say goodbye.” We must trust and to the best of our ability be present to our beloveds process of departing. all the best, Ann
Dear Ann,
Your thoughtful ways to memorialise Brian and generously respond to all these comments is so moving and appreciated.
Warmly.
Linette
Dear Linette,
It is wonderful to see your name on the page. May this find you well. Gratitude for your kind comment. As always, Ann