It had been the smoothest flight I could ever remember. Not even the smallest bump in the air, no trouble with long lines, leg room, or making my connecting flight. Then, I heard the familiar tone as the “fasten seat belt” sign was illuminated, followed by the crackle of the PA system and the flight attendant’s voice: “We are making our initial descent into Seattle.” Almost instantly, tears sprang to my eyes and streamed down my cheeks. Seattle, without Aubrey. The pain I felt was so sudden and sharp, I was overcome with the urge to turn the plane around and retreat back home.

Furiously wiping the tears from my face, I turned toward the window in an attempt to hide my current state from my neighbors on the plane, and I watched the clouds part to reveal my beloved Emerald City. I spotted Lake Union, and at its southern tip, the hotel where I had stayed the first time I came to Seattle. Seconds later, there was the Space Needle, looking like a miniature model of itself from the air. And suddenly, a smile spread across my face, as uncontrollable as the tears that had filled my eyes mere moments before. I smiled, and I felt the warmth of Aubrey’s memory shining over me, wrapping around me like a hug, gently telling me that everything was going to be okay.

In a somewhat cruel twist of fate, this year I found myself with not one but two opportunities to visit Seattle. First for a professional conference in May, then for the Rock and Roll Half Marathon in June, to walk with a group of Aubrey’s family members and friends in her memory. After so many plans fallen through and so many missed chances to see Aubrey in the years before she passed away, now I would be visiting Seattle twice in the span of one month. Two trips to the city that will always hold my heart and where I still hope to live someday, but a city that is now forever tinged with grief. As I write this, I am on the flight home from the second of these two trips, and although it has been bittersweet for sure, my heart is more full than it has been in a long time. Perhaps the twist of fate was not so cruel after all.

I have just spent eight incredible days in Seattle and its surrounding areas — from the West Seattle junction to Pike Place Market, the Space Needle to Mount Rainier, and Aubrey was with me the entire time. She was in Aisha the cat’s green almond eyes, in Chris’s warm smile and hearty laugh, in Meg’s generosity and bright spirit, and in Sarah’s tremendous heart. I felt her in every hug I shared with her family members and friends. I heard her cheering as Sarah and I crossed the finish line at the Rock and Roll Half Marathon, clutching each other’s hands. She was the sun shining down on every gorgeous day of my trip, she was the ladybug that landed on my face at Mount Rainier, she sang with us at the top of our lungs to Macklemore in the car, she laughed with us on the porch in Puyallup until we couldn’t breathe and tears filled our eyes. I was so afraid that visiting Seattle would be too painful now, because Aubrey was gone. It turned out I couldn’t have been more wrong — Aubrey was everywhere.

I can’t wait to go back.

If you look really, really closely, you can see the Space Needle.

Aisha the cat.

Team Aubrey before the Rock and Roll Half Marathon. Photo by Amy Benson.

Aubrey’s green monkey, and a very important message.

On the flight home, I spotted a rainbow from the air (lower left corner). I took it as one more sign from Aubrey.