24-Nov-2022 - Today we grieve, for our beloved Dawn has transcended her magnificent human form. It’s more than a little poetic that Dawn left us on Thanksgiving, one of her highest of holy days. She leaves us ever grateful for having had her as part of our story. Nonetheless, her departure has left us unmoored. How can she truly be gone? Our sense of direction is all off. What can we make of this?

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As strange as it may sound, the realm of physics might hold a glimpse of an answer. The law of conservation of energy holds that energy is neither created nor lost. Yet, Dawn's absence is more profound than an earthquake. Our hearts feel like something’s missing. A paradox, this experience and the laws that bound our universe. A beautiful paradox.

She’s gone, but she is here, with us, gleaming. From the “Cosmic Cliffs” of the Carina Nebula, to the craggy cliffs at the foot of the Castle of Old Wick in Scotland, Dawn’s essence echoes and endures. She came from, and she returns to the enormity of the expanse.

She was a mother, sister, wife, grandmother and friend. Now, she is a cherished ancestor. Our memory of her is a touchstone to things we learned from her and the ways she helped us grow.

Dawn radiates from the faces of her children and grandchildren. Erika and Brad glow with Dawn’s light. In Sophia, Isabella and Kylee, their grandmother shimmers like the stardust whence she came. A part of her endures.

Is there an angle from which we can view Dawn’s husband, Brian, without seeing her? That light is still there, glimmering.

Which of Dawn’s friends, in her enormous universe of friends, is not still aglow from having been in her orbit? Pups to a warm blanket, indeed.

Were Dawn a pebble tossed into the vastness of our lives, she would ripple, evermore. The memory of her laughter makes us smile. Think about how her mirth oft begat “the snort”—you’re grinning a little now, aren’t you? She is with us still.

From trips with the Salsa Girls to hazy nights in Italy, and from outlandishly appointed Thanksgiving feasts to quiet moments on her deck watching hummingbirds, Dawn has forever imprinted our lives. For all of her she gave to us, we give thanks.

So, here we stand, holding our grief. She is gone, yet she lives on.

The poet Mary Oliver may have captured our collective paradox best in her poem, “The Uses of Sorrow”:

(In my sleep I dreamed this poem)

Someone I loved once gave me

a box full of darkness.

It took me years to understand

that this, too, was a gift.

A celebration of Dawn’s life will take place from 2-4 pm on Sunday, December 4, 2022 at Starks funeral parlor located at 3651 S 900 E, Millcreek, UT 84106.