Life Hikes: Walking through Loss to What Comes After

Dr. Renée Brown Harmon’s Life Hikes is a moving essay collection that blends memoir, nature writing, and reflections on grief into something both deeply personal and universally resonant. I found myself drawn in by the book’s balance of vulnerability and resilience, its exploration of what it means to live authentically after loss, and its reminder that healing rarely takes a straight path.

At its heart, this book is about the long journey of grief following the author’s loss of her husband, Harvey, to younger-onset Alzheimer’s disease. “None of the means of transportation could get me to the other side of grief quite as well as my feet,” Harmon writes, underscoring one of the book’s central themes: movement (literal and emotional) can carry us through pain. Her hikes through mountains, meadows, and coastlines are more than exercise; they become metaphors for navigating the uneven terrain of sorrow and rediscovering joy.

The structure of the book mirrors this journey. In Part One: Beginning Again, Harmon recalls how hiking with her husband eventually gave way to solo treks after his decline. These passages struck me as tender and familiar, the way small rituals can hold a family together in hard times. In Part Two: Moving Onward, she weaves in essays about unexpected encounters, from a pelican mistaking her foot for food to moments of startling kindness from strangers. These stories remind us that life’s interruptions, whether comic, tragic, or both, carry their own wisdom. Part Three: Coming Home to Myself focuses on acceptance and self-discovery, offering reflections on perspective, spirituality, and resilience.

A theme that recurs throughout is the non-linear nature of grief. Harmon acknowledges that loss doesn’t follow predictable stages. “I wish grief was a clear-cut, linear process that led straight to acceptance,” she admits, before describing the reality of cycling through denial, anger, and despair, sometimes all in a single day. This honesty is one of the book’s strengths; it never oversimplifies, but instead validates the messy, unpredictable truth of grieving.

Harmon explores spirituality as love, not bound by dogma but expressed through compassion and presence. She speaks of the “god-spark” within each of us, the divine light that can guide us through even the darkest paths. For readers who may not identify with traditional religious language, her approach feels inclusive and hopeful.

Who will find solace and meaning in Life Hikes? Caregivers, widows, and anyone living through the aftermath of loss will see their own struggles reflected in Harmon’s honesty. Lovers of nature writing will appreciate the vivid way she captures the healing power of the outdoors. And readers seeking spiritual insight without heavy doctrine will find her reflections accessible and encouraging.

As I closed the book, I felt as though I had walked alongside Harmon, not just on trails through Appalachia, the Alps, or the Redwoods, but along the winding inner roads of grief, resilience, and renewal. Life Hikes is more than a memoir; it’s a gentle companion for anyone finding their way forward after loss.