San Diego, CA
Embracing Living & Grieving – San Diego Jewish World
By Shayna Kaufmann
SAN DIEGO — Living and grieving co-exist. I was reminded of this yet again, in a palpable way, while on a recent trip to Scotland. I was visiting my daughter, Maya, who is studying in Glasgow for the semester. It was the second morning of my trip. I awoke to a string of frantic WhatsApp texts, from friends in my women’s group, about Angela, one of our intimate group of 10. The most recent text, written hours before, said, “She’s gone.” It was followed by a slew of broken hearted emojis.
I could not breathe much less wrap my head around those shocking words. I just saw her in the hospital, only days before I left San Diego. We knew her cancer prognosis was serious but none of us thought that death was at her door. I looked at my daughter, asleep next to me in my hotel bed, took my phone into the bathroom to track what happened, and sobbed.
Exactly one week before, the night before her scheduled surgery, I went with several other women in our group to visit Angela in the hospital. She was dressed in regular clothes, walking around, and looking as alive and beautiful as always. We talked about the surgery and how we could support her in her recovery. The seven of us seemed more worried and tense than Angela.
Then, we made a huddle with Angela, wrapped our arms around each other, and sang a melodic healing prayer. At one point, I glanced up at Angela, and saw her intently listening, with an angelic smile on her face. Though she knew (we did not) that her cancer had metastasized, there was not a hint of fear or sorrow on her face. She appeared to be fully taking in every second of her life. When the prayer was over, we stayed in our huddle and silently swayed. None of us wanted to let go.
When I read the shocking news, I briefly thought about returning home to go to her funeral. I was double crushed to miss it. But Maya, Tara (my oldest who was soon joining us), and I would have also been crushed if I left. My compromise, supported by my daughters, was to return to San Diego a few days early, in order to attend the last night of Shiva (a Jewish memorial gathering in the days following one’s burial.)
Despite Angela’s passing, my week in Scotland was wonderful. The varied scenery and topography were breathtaking. I treasured the time with my young adult daughters, perhaps even more than usual, as Angela’s death drilled into me the preciousness and unpredictability of time. We laughed, shared “adult” stories, ate, drank, had deep conversations, and gasped together as I nervously navigated roundabouts and single-lane, two-way roads, while driving on the left-hand side of the road. An unexpected highlight, was our giddy time eating and talking in the car, while waiting hours for help to change a pot-hole demolished tire. None of us got upset or complained. It was what it was.
And, I often cried when I thought about Angela. On one particular drive, in the awe-inspiring Isle of Sky, Maya, our navigator and DJ, played some soulful Celtic music. The combined sounds and sights unleashed a barrage of tears. My daughters were old enough to understand that I needed to cry, and held space for me to let them roll. As I cried, I breathed in the spacious air and looked at the billowy clouds in a rare sunny sky. I was living and grieving.
Grief is part of life. It is inevitable. If we are grieving, we are living, though it can be easy to get lost in a cloud of detached grief. Amidst my sorrow over Angela, I felt even more grateful for my life, my fortunate opportunities, and my treasured time with Tara and Maya. Angela did the same in the waning days of her life. I watched her joking around with her kids in the hospital, all the while knowing her remaining time on earth would be brief.
May you all remember to create space to live as you navigate life’s inevitable losses. There is room for both.
*
Dr. Shayna Kaufmann, a psychologist, received her mindfulness teacher training through Dharma Moon and Tibet House US. She leads meditation workshops and retreats and teaches mindfulness individually.
The U.S. military identified a Minnesota Marine stationed in Southern California who went missing off San Diego last week, and confirmed his death.
Lance Cpl. Armando Ortiz Canseco was declared deceased Saturday. It is believed he was lost at sea after a training exercise.
“On behalf of the Marines and sailors of the 13th Marine Expeditionary Unit, I extend our deepest condolences to the family and loved ones of Lance Cpl. Ortiz Canseco,” Col. Richard Alvarez, the commanding officer of the 13th Marine Expeditionary Unit, said in a statement.
Ortiz Canseco was reported missing from the amphibious transport dock ship USS Anchorage early Thursday morning. His disappearance resulted in an extensive search and rescue operation, with efforts beginning around 1:20 a.m. Thursday.
The search spanned roughly 2,400 square miles and involved officials from the Navy, Marine Corps, Coast Guard and Air Force who used three surface ships and 12 aircraft, according to the military.
The Marine went missing during a training operation involving the 13th Marine Expeditionary Unit and the Makin Island Amphibious Ready Group.
After nearly two full days of searching, the Navy transitioned to recovery operations.
“He earned the title of United States Marine and served his country with honor and commitment,” Alvarez said. “We mourn alongside his family, and we remain committed to bringing him home.”
This incident marks the second time in recent weeks that the U.S. military has searched for missing service members.
The remains of two Army soldiers who went missing while off duty from military exercises in Morocco were recovered in May, according to the Army.
Officials did not initially identify Ortiz Canseco on Thursday or disclose the circumstances surrounding his disappearance, saying his family needed to be notified first.
His death continues to be under investigation.
Ortiz Canseco enlisted in the Marine Corps in April 2023 and reported for training at Marine Corps Recruit Depot San Diego.
His individual awards include the Marine Corps Good Conduct Medal and Sea Service Deployment Ribbon.
Times staff writer Alene Tchekmedyian contributed to this report.
Blink, and you might miss it.
Adobe Falls isn’t Niagara Falls — or anything close — but after winter rains, a seasonal waterfall briefly appears in a narrow Del Cerro canyon, hidden beneath streets, homes, and San Diego State University property.
The waterfall forms along Alvarado Creek, which drains parts of eastern San Diego, including the SDSU area and surrounding neighborhoods. In wet months, runoff moves through a steep canyon and drops over a short rock ledge known locally as Adobe Falls. In dry periods, the flow often fades to a trickle or disappears entirely, leaving exposed sandstone and a shaded canyon bed.
What makes the site stand out is its setting. Above the canyon are Del Cerro residential streets and university property tied to San Diego State. Below it, Alvarado Creek continues west as part of the Mission Valley watershed, eventually feeding into the San Diego River system. Like many urban drainages in San Diego, its flow is shaped by stormwater runoff, paved surfaces, and altered drainage patterns tied to development.
Access is restricted. The canyon sits on a mix of SDSU and city-managed land and has long been closed to the public due to safety concerns, including steep terrain, erosion, and unstable footing after rain. Although widely referenced in maps and online posts, it is not an official trail or recreation site.
The canyon itself pre-dates modern development in Del Cerro. It is part of a broader network of inland waterways and canyon corridors used for thousands of years by the Kumeyaay, whose presence shaped movement and settlement patterns across the region.
In the mid-20th century, as Del Cerro developed, homes and roads were built along canyon rims rather than through them, leaving Alvarado Creek intact as a drainage system. Adobe Falls remained within that corridor even as surrounding hillsides filled with residential and institutional development.
Today, Adobe Falls remains a small but persistent reminder that San Diego’s natural drainage systems still function within a heavily built environment — appearing briefly after storms, then receding back into the canyon until the next rain.
Read more history stories here, and do you have a story to tell? Send an email to DebbieSklar@cox.net.
Sources:
City of San Diego – Stormwater & Watershed Division (Alvarado Creek / Mission Valley watershed)
San Diego State University – planning and environmental impact documentation for adjacent canyon areas
U.S. Geological Survey (USGS) – San Diego County watershed and hydrology mapping (Alvarado Creek / San Diego River system context)
San Diego History Center – Kumeyaay regional land use and inland canyon corridor history
City of San Diego Planning Department – land use records and access restrictions for Adobe Falls area
California State Historic Landmark files – Adobe Falls (Landmark No. 80)
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