The Impossible

This is my last year to be under 50.  It was supposed to be a wonderful summer with great plans for travel and adventure followed by a knee replacement (I set the schedule so I would at least be able to ski in March).  But the randomness of the universe can often throw life into a vortex.  On July 4, 2014 we lost our beautiful Seth.  Fate takes the second child.

It has been internal and sometimes external madness. For the past 5 years as I watched his drug abuse escalate I took comfort in statistics.  Who, in an industrialized country, loses two children?  I also counted on him hitting that magic 25 year mark when his prefrontal cortex would finish developing and he would be able to think like a human being.  I thought the numbers were on our side.  Yet he still died alone in a windowless basement bedroom from an overdose.

So I have taken to the places where I can think, clear my head, cash in on some free endorphins, and feel nurtured and safe.

A week or so after Seth died (my time keeping is off) I needed to get out of town and Nancy needed to be alone.  So I just packed some crap in my car, grabbed Otis, and took off for the North Cascades National Park.  This was when the Carlton Complex fire just started.  By the time I was ready to leave the park Hwy 20 was closed and I had to drive all the way over to the coast to come back on I-90.

Surrounded by old growth and green.

We had several great hikes into the old growth and along the Pacific Crest Trail.  It was still early in the season and we ran into snow. Mostly we just napped in the tent.  There was one day of full-on rain that forced me to kick back.  I really needed it.  Over the years I have been known to try and out walk my grief.

Then at some point after I returned to work I spent a weekend at Lake Roosevelt with Otis.  The lake was at high pool level but we found a nice narrow beach all to ourselves.

Then a few weeks later my dad went into the hospital in Illinois.  I decided that I needed to go home because things were not looking very good.  As of this typing he is still with us but given the fact that life at times is just a ball of shit I am glad that I went.  I had a chance while there to do some hiking at my old camp.  It was nice, except for the bugs (oh, and also somewhere in there before I left Spokane I got stung by an unidentified something and had to drive myself from a friend's cabin to the ER.  Luckily I got there before my eyes swelled shut.  My entire body was covered with one giant hive and my throat was getting sore and my lips and tongue were numb.  So hiking around lots of insects even though I was packing steroids, benedryl, and two epi pens still made me nervous).

There is an interesting story with this.  After my paddle trip on FDR Lake I started reading the autobiography of another Roosevelt.  I drove to Illinois and decided on my way home to take a northern detour and go to Teddy Roosevelt National Park.  Then I read in my book that this is where TR went after his wife and mother died on the same day.  It seemed appropriate and wide open spaces hold a special place for me.  I went to the North Unit which is smaller but has less people there.  It was the most soothing experience I have ever had.  I do not think that I would be as put together right now if I had not gone there.  Just to see the power and agelessness of nature somehow made me feel better.  Things in my mind locked together.  Seeing insitu coal and petrified trees and looking at the shapes made over eons by wind and water gave me a wider perspective of my loss and grief.

The thousands of prairie dogs made me laugh my ass off.  The hiking was stupendous and I often found myself stepping in the footprints of bison which roamed the park freely.

Lignite, a poor grade of coal.  I was quite taken with it. 

The most amazing moments were watching a thunderstorm roll in and the striking sunset that it left behind.  I sat along the Little Missouri River and watched the sun set then got in my car and drove deep into the park.  I climbed a hill (making sure there were no sleeping bison) and spent a few hours lying in the sagebrush watching the night sky and talking to my kids.  It was after I saw the two shooting stars that I knew I was going to be ok.  Life is so far beyond what I ever imagined but it is what it is and I have the choice to take the easy road and curl up in a ball and cease to exist, or I can cherish the time I have left.  I choose option # 2.  Morgan and Seth lost their chance to live.  I cannot waste mine.