This year has been one of the most challenging years of my career, marked by significant loss and change. As I look back on 2024, I am so grateful for the compassion and support of my CLS colleagues and for the broader justice community in Washington and across the country. We’ve faced these challenges without the person we would so often turn to – Allyson Fredricksen. Allyson, our HR director, was tragically and unexpectedly killed in a hiking accident in March 2024. The shockwaves of her loss have reverberated through CLS, her family, and her amazing network of friends. Grief manifests in so many unexpected ways. I’m reminded of Mary Oliver’s poem Starlings in Winter (excerpt):
Ah, world, what lessons you prepare for us,
even in the leafless winter,
even in the ashy city.
I am thinking now
of grief, and of getting past it;
I feel my boots
trying to leave the ground,
I feel my heart
pumping hard. I want
to think again of dangerous and noble things.
I want to be light and frolicsome.
I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing,
as though I had wings.
Through community and connection –in our sadness, memories, and bewilderment – we find healing. I am so moved by the way CLS came together to help Allyson’s family and worked with her friends to quickly pull together a memorial service. The slide show, memorial photo, and program created by Adriana Hernandez, our Communications manager, were beautiful. The service was the essence of Allyson – thoughtful, quirky and full of acceptance. There were tears, of course, but also joy ,as an impromptu dance party broke out to the tune of The Middle by Jimmy Eats World.
Sometimes when I think about Allyson and her death I am still shocked.
Other times my grief is a quiet smile. Each day when I walk into or out of my office I see a beautiful painting of Mt. Rainier. Over the years, I have spent many days camping and hiking in that magical place, and the joy is vibrantly captured by the artist – Allyson Fredricksen. We placed a plaque below the painting commemorating Allyson’s life and work at CLS. She loved being on that mountain, and recently, her family obtained permission to spread her ashes there. Now Allyson is part of its geography, forever woven into the place she loved.
Not long after, her family visited the Seattle CLS office. Connecting with them continues to weave Allyson’s spirit into the fabric of CLS, just as connecting with her CLS colleagues across the state does. This summer, we celebrated Allyson in Yakima at a pub on a bright sunny day. Allyson loved a good brew, good company, and being outdoors. We ate, drank and told stories together in her honor. Allyson died at 39 – much too young and yet she leaves a lasting impression. 
I have been so sad at the loss of our colleague and also, yet inspired by how many lives Allyson touched.
In the days and month since her death, I keep returning to the phrases Allyson often said to me. One was, “We are closer than you think.” Whether it was about a complicated HR issue where we saw things differently or an unfairness in the world, she was so hopeful that we would, sooner or later, find our way. She also would say “I want to hold space for …” – a gentle reminder of our humanness of being and not just doing. While I often want to focus on checking off the list, doing the training, or writing the policy, Allyson always centered the needs we humans carry.
As we step into the challenges of the coming year, let’s remember to “hold space” for time to connect, to appreciate each other, and to grieve what we have lost. But let’s also hold onto the hope Allyson carried – that “we are closer than we think” – to each other, to justice, and to a world where we can be, in the words of Mary Oliver, “improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing.”
Merf Ehman
Executive Director
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