Healing

I talked with my Nana last night about loss. She shared that seven years ago, she lost a friend to suicide. She described that she still does not understand, there are still days when she asks "why?" She described her friend as someone who was bright, and full of life. She said it had not made sense.

I don't know if it is resignation. I suppose at some level, it is. I have to accept that I will not have all the answers, ever.

Every day, I practice looking at the world as the Dusty I knew did.

From the bottom of my heart

I am struggling today.

After a walk in the dog park, reflecting on Dusty, I feel no closer to understanding. I am a thinker. I process things in my head until I can make sense of them. Or, at least until I can make peace with them. As I walked along the trail, pushing Kinnie in her stroller and watching Koda and Charlie romp, I wondered what it would be like if Dusty was there with us. Those kind of thoughts have come to mind often in the last 10 days.

Whenever I consider how a moment would be different with Dusty's presence, I realize it would feel more alive. In the park, he would have been off the trail, observing plants, picking up bugs, and looking for snakes, all the while making a running commentary that would have me rolling. His appreciation for the "little things," the things that so many of us take for granted, was profound.

So today, as I walked, I thought I figured it out. That was the lesson. To appreciate, to do more than appreciate, each little moment. To live life to the fullest, literally. Look at the world as Dusty did.

Only, then there's this other part. Some part of Dusty was haunted. Something in him was ready for this life to be over. For all the laughter, and antics, and thoughtfulness, something was missing.

I don't know how to make peace with this. Someone who was so incredibly, admirably alive did not want to live. Still, 10 days later, I find myself thinking that there must be some mistake. The two realities do not fit together. I laugh as I remember, and at the same moment want to scream "WHY?"

Blessings

I awakened early this morning, thinking...

For all the heartache and loss we have experienced, I still smile every day. And laugh. Due in large part to one little girl.

Kinnie talks- a lot. She has strong opinions. When she wants to do something, she wants to do it. I'm not sure if being outside or climbing stairs is her favorite activity. Pretty much anything that she can do on her own two feet makes her a happy camper.

She cuddles a lot, too. Many times a day, she'll give me a hug, pat me on the back, and lean into me. In those moments, I feel I know the meaning of life. Her laughter gives me that feeling, too.

I am so blessed, and so grateful. And I remind myself every day.

Deep breath

We left a memento for Dusty in RMNP this weekend. I tried to leave him there, too. Not in the sense that I don't want him around. But I am just trying to make peace in my mind. Every time I think about it, I feel a deep confusion and sense of loss. There was much he could have lived for.

We spent the weekend in the mountains for the wedding of a dear friend. And we stayed in a house with some of the most important people in our lives. There was laughter. There were tears.

As we all sat together yesterday morning, drinking coffee, I tried to convey my love and gratitude for the people in my life. I suppose the reminder to do that is one of the lessons we can take from our loss. I told my loved ones that I never want them to feel alone. I told them I would walk to the ends of the earth for them.

It breaks my heart to think that maybe Dusty couldn't see that. I know how many have shed tears for him, but yet somehow he felt alone. At least, I think he must have felt alone.

I still can't make sense of it. I have experienced loss in the past. But not like this. I am not a person who has feared death. I am spiritual, I believe in bigger things, greater connections than we can comprehend in this life. But something about how Dusty went... I wish we could have answers. And we probably never will.

I told Brian that I think when we see a hawk it is to make us think of Dusty, to remember him, to cherish him. This morning, as I drove to work, I saw 6 hawks flying over the city. I hope he feels at peace...

The moment we grew up

"Death is at your doorstep.

And it will steal

your innocence.

But it will not steal

your substance"

Last night, I was driving home from work, and thought to myself, "I won't accept this." And then I thought of the irony of that. I won't accept death. What other choice is there? One can't be brought back. No matter how much I wish it, it cannot be undone.

Dusty was vibrant. And hilarious. And a genius. And curious, thoughtful, insightful, aware, adventurous, inquisitive, loyal, brave and mischievous. He was a part of the family that grew as a part of our college experience. He made us laugh, made us think, made us appreciate things that we would otherwise take for granted.

I would not have thought of him as a depressed person. I would never have imagined that he struggled so much that he could take his own life. I find myself wishing that I could have been in his head in the moments before he jumped. I wonder if he could have seen the outpouring of love for him, if he would have changed his mind. I wonder if he just wanted to know what it felt like to fly.

In that moment, the world lost a light. We lost someone who could have changed the world. It does not make sense. It does not make sense.

I wonder how we didn't see what was happening under the vibrance. How was he in so much pain and keeping it so private? I wish we could have done something. I wish we could have helped in some way. I wish I could have made him see all that he was, and all he had to offer the world.

I am so grateful for his life. Thoughts of Dusty will always bring smiles to our faces. I know in time the ache in our hearts will fade. And we will never forget.

Seasons

Summer is winding down. And with the impending change of season comes time to reflect on one which has contained the greatest joys and sorrows...

Grandy left this world on Monday, August 8th. She was with her children as she breathed her last breath. I am sure that her death is noted as of natural causes. But the truth is, she was ready. Whether it was because she wanted to see Granddad once more, or because she was just tired of this life, she went on her own terms.

Grandy was the sweetest lady, a darling. She was funny and witty and giving and forgiving and generous and loving and affectionate. She wanted everyone she cared for to know as much, and she wanted to be able to provide us all with everything we wanted. I will never forget her laugh. Granddad, her kids, her grandkids all made her laugh.

Processing my view of the world without Grandy in it is daunting. It doesn't seem possible that she is gone. She was always so full of life, that to imagine that death has taken her is counterintuitive. We spoke to her by phone 6 days before she passed. She was aware, and perhaps a little foggy. We told her we loved her, that she means the world to us. And she responded in kind.

I continue to be so grateful. Grateful that I got to be a part of Grandy's family, that I got to bear one of her great-grandchildren, grateful that Kinnie got to meet Grandy. Words cannot express the admiration, respect and love I have for her. Nor can they express just how much she is missed. She lived life fully and lovingly...

"You would know the secret of death.

But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?

The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light.

If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life.

For life and death are one, even as the river and sea are one.

In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;

And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring.

Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.

Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the kind whose hand is to be laid upon him in honour.

Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king?

Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?

For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and melt into the sun?

And what is to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?

Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.

And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.

And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance."

~Kahlil Gibran

Rest in peace, dearest Grandy. I love you.

Spent

I called Kinnie's doctor's office today, and left a message for the nurse about Kinnie's recent tummy trouble (which is nothing serious, but worth asking about). I left all the information, and was about to leave my phone number, when....

poof! I didn't know it anymore. I was stunned. I haven't had that happen since I got the darn phone. I started off strong... "My number is 720-..... (long silence. long enough that the voice message had to ask if I was finished leaving my message)." I then proceeded to give a number that I am quite sure was the wrong one, because I haven't got a call back.

The thing is, this summer has just been so full. Brian's best friend's wedding, Kinnie's first birthday, our anniversary, my brother's wedding in two days, a trip to Wyoming in a week. All that was eating up my brain cells faster than the speed of light.

And then, we got such sad news this week. Brian's Grandy, my Grandy, has fallen ill. I feel as though I can't even process the words. I love and adore her.

So, yes, spent is the correct way to describe it. Maybe burned out. Or fried. And, without a doubt, I'm running on fumes. I keep wondering when life will settle. I think the answer is probably never.