Where is God?

"No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.  I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid.  The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning.  I keep on swallowing.  At other times it feels like being mildly drunk, or concussed.  There is a sort of invisible blanket between the world and me.  I find it hard to take in what anyone says.  Or perhaps, hard to want to take it in.  It is so uninteresting.  Yet I want the others to be about me.  I dread the moments when the house is empty.  If only they would talk to one another and not to me.  There are moments, most unexpectedly, when something inside me tries to assure me that I don't really mind so much, not so very much, after all.  Love is not the whole of a man's life.  I was happy before I ever met my wife.  I've plenty of what are called 'resources.'  People get over these things.  Come, I shan't do so badly.  One is ashamed to be making out a good case.  Then comes a sudden jab of red-hot memory and all this 'commonsense' vanishes like an ant in the mouth of a furnace.  C.S. Lewis, "A Grief Observed."

It is Christmas morning.  I am currently sitting on a plane gazing out at a clear blue sky. I would imagine many are with their families today, sharing meals, opening presents, instilling traditions that will live on for years.   I on the other hand, decided this Christmas morning, to fly.   I am spending time above the clouds.  I am flying to Oregon today.  This evening I get to see my best friend Melissa Joyce.  We decided to spend this Christmas together, probably drinking good wine, lots of it:)    I will be in Oregon for the next week spending some time in the places John and I loved so much.  I get to see friends that embraced me when I needed it the most, those that put their own safety on the line to rescue John, having only known John and I for 6 months.  I am not sure how it will feel.  I feel as if I am visiting a ghost.  A past life that seems to become foggy as time passes.  How long will I be able to remember the details of Oregon with John?  I left Oregon 6 months ago with two loaded cars and John's ashes in my lap.  It was a beautiful day, yet all I remember was darkness.  I wonder if we'll have a love hate relationship, Oregon and I.  Oregon will blow your mind with it's beauty.  It is so lush and green and beautiful.  Living there with John, I'd laugh on my way to work at the scenery I got to see everyday cruising down I5, because it was that ridiculous, like something in a movie.  For months I was convinced we were just on a long vacation and surely this wasn't permanent.  I think John and I sounded like freaks the first time we kayaked the North Fork of the Smith together.  I was so blown away by the scenery I screamed a few times every time we'd paddle around a bend where I was blasted with more water falls, peak mountains and pitcher plants.  This would just make John laugh even harder.  I was a freak!   It felt as if we were in a different world.  To see the crashing waves of the Pacific ocean in the distance as we descended into the gorge of a Class IV white water river was absolutely bizarre to me.   I could not believe we had pulled it off, we finally moved out west and landed in Oregon.  So to see such beauty this week, yet know I can't share it with John anymore, that he only got to experience it for 6 months, that we had only scratched the surface.  It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.  Yet I am going, I have to go, I have to be there and see for myself.  The state motto for Oregon is "Alis volat propriis," which means "she flies with her own wings."  I am going to see if I can fly solo there without John, to see if I still love her rolling green mountains as I once did with John.  Will she embrace me as she did last December?  I hope so.  I know he would want that.

December has been productive I suppose.  I've  taken care of some things that I've been avoiding. I finally took all the finances my husband left to me and started investing it with a financial company.  I've just let everything sit for months which long term is pretty silly.  He left it for me, so as his wife, I feel it's my job to do something responsible with it and plan for my unknown future.  I finally made an appointment at a headstone place and picked out a gravestone for John with his grandmother.  This will be placed at the family cemetery in Narrows, VA next spring beside his great grand parents.   I emptied a full closet and multiple drawers in my house, and boxed up the majority of his clothes with my sister and sent gifts to our families and closest friends.  Each of them will have clothing that belonged to John.  I couldn't bare to give anything to Goodwill.  I gave our beautiful wedding photo to John's grand mother to hang in her house.  It sits above their fire place now where I get to visit it often.  I've taken down all framed photos of us in my house with the exception of one in my bedroom.  The "John Duncan Wilburn Adventure Scholarship," is almost finalized and I sent communication out to our families and friends for donations this Christmas.  So many are starting to donate which makes me proud.  I took John's car and registered it in West Virginia.  It's been sitting in my dad's garage for months.  I've even started driving it again.   I got a West Virginia driver's license and gave away my Oregon ID.  I spread more ashes in some beautiful places on the east coast.  I even got back in my kayak for the first time in months and spent an afternoon paddling in West Virginia.   Fayetteville continues to embrace me.  I started going to yoga, joined a "stitch and bitch" group (yes I am learning to stitch), got back into hip hop zumba, started playing music with some talented ladies, attended multiple poetry readings, bought a bike trainer so I could bike indoors with a group that rides twice a week, attended numerous pot lucks, an art coalition, a housewarming dance party, oh, and I hiked and mountain biked a lot this month, when the daylight allowed me.  My job keeps me on my toes, traveling throughout the Appalachians, helping many team members.    I am productive.  I get things done.  I know how to stay active, stay busy.  I've always been this way.   Yet, no activity, or check list completion seems to be filling this void.  I can exhaust myself yet feel fully alert, fully aware of what is missing.  It is like an on-going hamster wheel in my brain at times, his death spins all day and all night.  How do you fix that?

God.  I admit God and I have been in quite a wrestling match for the last 9 months.   I question him constantly.  I worry constantly.  I beg for John's presence constantly.  I try to will things into action.  Every now and then, I even yell.  I petition for a different outcome, for my previous life, my marriage, my heart..  As if I am a special circumstance and a miracle should happen on my behalf.  Christ raised Lazarus from the dead, so bring back John.  Bring back my husband, I've had enough of this non-sense.  I don't want anymore time to go by, I'd like things to rewind.  

I will be 31 in 4 days.  John and I were born 19 days apart.  John always enjoyed calling me a cougar when I was older than him for those 19 days.  Soon I will be a year older than him, 10 years older than him, 30 years older.  I will age while he is ageless and perfect.  One time in Colorado I had a severe allergic reaction to some mosquito's that was so bad both my eyes completely swelled shut.  John had beer cans smashed up against my face  to help with the swelling.  He told me later that the reason he was so frightened during this episode was because he thought to himself while trying to help me, "wow, this is what Erin is going to look like as an old lady, holy shit!"  Even in a bad moment, that man knew how to make me laugh so hard.  Now you really get to see it happen Muffin, while you remain young, vibrant, and beautiful.  Something about that just doesn't seem fair.

"Did you ever know, dear, how much you took away with you when you left?  You have stripped me even of my past, even of the things we never shared.  I was wrong to say the stump was recovering from the pain of this amputation.  I was deceived because it has so many ways to hurt me that I discover them only one by one."  C.S. Lewis

I have not been present lately the way my husband was.  I seem to be in a fog.  I have been afraid, I have been worried.   He took with him what feels like part of my heart, a leg, an arm, an eye, a lung.  I feel handicap at times. I am fighting for a past that is gone and a future that is impossible.  I continue to get pinned, yet ask for another match.  Where is God?  Where is John?  At times I believe both are being drowned out by my voice.  I spend so much time talking and petitioning that I am not listening.   I talk to God everyday, but I'm starting to realize it's about what I want to say, not what needs to be said or what I need to hear.  It's what I need from him.  I haven't really considered what he needs from me.   No wonder I can't always hear him.  I have these moments where I am so consumed in my thoughts, I feel as if  God is at a distance gazing at me and shaking his head, yet still with a smile and understanding, as if he's waiting for this page to turn. 

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding.  In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight." Proverbs 3:5-6

I think God makes it pretty simple, and the more I look back, I see a paved path that has been laid before me the moment John was gone, a path I somehow chose to trust, regardless of the pain.   I believe it is a path that God even showed John when he embraced him.  A path that John is even watching over and OK with.  And really, how did I do that?  I look back and remember how weak I felt, the ache in my chest and the panic that surged throughout my day.  I was a walking zombie.  I felt lifeless.   How did I get up, stand firmly and look his family and friends directly in the eyes as I spoke about him at his own funeral?  How did I go back to work?  How did I manage to take a great job and move?  How did I do anything?   I reflect on that today as I fly above the clouds in awe of what God has done for me and continues to do, yet too many times it goes unnoticed.  Where I am right now is not where I was 9 months ago.  I have grown stronger.  I have laughed and even smiled.  I have danced.  I look back today and know this did  not happened on my own account.  I was carried.  Yet I keep screaming.

 Isn't that all he really wants from us?  To love him and therefore trust him?  I find it easy to do when life is good, when I am happy, when I have great things.  It was easy to thank God everyday for my awesome life in Oregon with John, of course.   Yet when the carpet is ripped out from underneath me, and I must suffer, I must bear my own cross, I fail him.  How do you trust him through pain and suffering?  How do I wake up everyday and give him thanks when John is gone?  How do I bear the pain and the loss, yet somehow see a bigger picture here?  A bigger purpose?  

When I think about Christmas, wasn't that really about seeing and trusting a bigger picture?  God gave his only son to the world, knowing he would suffer incredible pain.  His only son.  Jesus came into this world, taking on a body of flesh and blood, to live among people like you and me.  His most important teaching centered around love and trust.  Loving him and each other, and trusting in a bigger picture, eternal life.  He was mocked, beaten, flogged, and eventually killed at a young age, around 30 years old.  He suffered immense pain, yet he loved and trusted in a much bigger picture.  Isn't that remarkable?  To know something to be so true and right in your heart, that you can bear the pain?  Because of that, I believe I can, in fact, I must bear this pain and still give him genuine thanks for what he has done for me, what he has done for John, not what he has taken from us. 

 And isn't it easy to blame God?  As humans, I think it's only natural to want to place blame somewhere.  Surely this was someones fault.  I've admitted that I raged at God after this happened.  I shook my fist at the sky and cursed his name and my own faith.  Yet he still paved a path just for me, when I didn't deserve it.    As time has passed and as God continues to try and speak to my heart, I am realizing that life is what happens.  We all have choices that we either make or don't make.  Sometimes those choices lead to immense pain and suffering.  I don't believe God orchestrates it, I simply believe he foresees it.  Yet he still receives us, he still cries with us, he still leads us, and he still loves us unconditionally.  Even when we scream. I find that incredible. 

A new year is coming soon, and I've decided to stop worrying.  I've decided to stop petitioning, stop predicting the future, stop asking for the past.  No more screaming.  I'd be a fool if I thought that meant to no more pain, no more grieving.  But to worry and to be afraid as I have been for the last 9 months, I  have to let this go and start trusting in a bigger picture.  I really do believe that John's life continues, just in a much better place, with much bigger purpose.  John is still needed, he is still growing, he is his best self now.  I trust that.  I believe that God is going to do something extraordinary with the life I still have here, because he loves me, and I am his.  I believe I will do extraordinary things because of John Wilburn.  I believe in the power of eternal love.  I believe Christmas is a reminder, regardless of where life has taken you at this moment, to trust in a bigger picture. 

"I tell you the truth, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices.  You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy."  John 16:20

 Last Christmas, John and I welcomed my mom, sister and brother to our home in Grants Pass, OR.  My mom was recently separated from my dad during this time after 32 years of marriage.  I remember the moment I saw her get off the plane and walk through the doors into the lobby, I saw sadness in her eyes.  My mother has always been someone I considered to be extremely strong, but losing her marriage broke her.  It broke her spirit.  It went against everything she believed in, and what she thought her life would be.  This was her first Christmas completely outside of the normal Johnson family tradition, and she was spending it with John and I.  On Christmas morning, John turned to me in our bedroom and said, "We need to do something fun with your mom today.  Something to take her mind off of things."  Shortly after presents, John was loading a cooler and hauling everyone into the car.  I could tell he was on a mission to take us somewhere, with a specific focus on my mom.  My mom likes to be in charge, she'd have no problem with me telling all of you that.  She's very much an alpha lady.  But John took over this particular day, told her he would take care of lunch and everything she needed, and shoved her into the car.  He drove us into northern California, and into the Redwood forest.  This was my first time ever seeing these trees since moving to Oregon, and I have to admit, I found them absolutely inspiring.  To look up and not see where a tree truly ends is a unique experience.  We spent the afternoon hiking beside the trees and had a picnic by the Northern California coast.  John didn't mention to my mom that for the picnic, he literally took all the food directly out of the refrigerator still in the baking dishes and threw it all in a large cooler.  A massive turkey was pulled in full form right out of the cooler in a 9x13 baking dish:)  We all dug in with our hands.  This made my mom laugh so hard I think it brought her to tears.  It was typical John, keeping things simple!  That night he poured my mom a glass of wine, sat her in the living room, told her to stay out of the kitchen and cooked everyone the Wilburn traditional Christmas dinner. He even spent that evening playing guitar side by side with her. I believe he made my mom's day, he made her Christmas.  He sure made mine.

 I remember that beautiful memory this Christmas day as I fly above the clouds..  Walking through the redwoods with John and watching my mother's sadness turn to laughter.  He showed all of us on that day that even through suffering and pain, one can still see a bigger picture in the distance.  One can still find joy and peace among the trees.  I believe that is where God is.

Merry Christmas Muffin.  As I gaze out into an endless sky, my heart is full of love and gratitude this Christmas for the lesson you taught me on this day.  I love you always and forever.

Unbroken Continuity

"Sing, barren woman, you who never bore a child; burst into song, shout for joy, you who were never in labor; because more are the children of the desolate woman than of her who has a husband," says the Lord.  "Enlarge the place of your tent, stretch your tent curtains wide, do not hold back; lengthen your cords, strengthen your stakes.  Do not be afraid; you will not be put to shame.  Do not fear disgrace; you will not be humiliated.  You will forget the shame of your youth and remember no more the reproach of your widowhood."  Isaiah 56:1-4

Me and John, our second Thanksgiving, 2009, Richmond VA 

In less than an hour, it will be Thanksgiving Day.  Exactly one year ago, John and I woke up in our cozy home in Grants Pass, Oregon, and for the first time in our relationship, we got to have a normal holiday together.  Most of our thanksgivings were spent either with me having to go to bed super early because I had to be at Target in the middle of the night for Black Friday (earlier and earlier every year), or simply separate from each other.  After two Thanksgivings together in 2008 and 2009,  I finally realized there was no point to spend this holiday together, being I was usually a zombie by the time the actual holiday arrived, so I encouraged John to spend it with his family and enjoy the day.  I used to work a 15 hour overnight shift going into Thanksgiving day and then had to be back at work within 12 hours to get ready for thousands of guest who would be body slammed through the doors just to get that perfect TV deal.  Oh, and house appliances, we can't forget those.  I used to hate the holidays simply because of my job.  I'd look forward to January when I could finally breathe.  

After my first real Thanksgiving with John in Oregon, and more so after losing him in March, I reflect today and wonder why it took me so long to leave that work style and have that day with my family, for my family is gone now.  

I remember last November and December, it was the first time in years, and my marriage that I truly enjoyed the holidays.  I got to spend Thanksgiving and Christmas with John, with no schedule, no worry, and no bulls-eye awaiting me in red and khaki.  It  truly was wonderful.  

For Thanksgiving in Oregon, John and I made a lovely meal with our friend Toni who worked at Harry & David with me.  John made the turkey (teriyaki style), I made baked macaroni & cheese along with sweet potato casserole, and Toni made the dessert.  We went on a nice steep hike at Dollar Mountain afterwards that overlooks the beautiful town of Grants Pass.  This hike took us above the fog line and revealed a beautiful day above the clouds.  I remember watching a movie with John that night and snuggling with him until we both fell asleep.  I remember thinking that THIS moment was why I left Target.  My family.  My husband.  John.  

The last 7 1/2 years in Richmond, I despised Thanksgiving and Christmas because I witnessed consumerism at it's ugliest during a time of the year where honestly it was the last thing I wanted to think of.  This past year I adored both holidays with John.   

Today, I am at a loss.  I am speechless.  My heart bleeds for him.  My soul screams inside for his presence on this holiday.  Last year on Thanksgiving was the beginning of something beautiful.   I knew that day that I would never spend another holiday away from him, for that day was so perfect, so simple.  I knew then why we were meant to go west.  Why I was meant to leave Target.   I pictured countless Thanksgivings from that day.  Thanksgivings where we'd tell our parents that we're expecting a son or daughter, and they would be grandparents.  Thanksgivings where we'd create new family traditions with little ones. Thanksgivings where we'd meet our first grand child.  I pictured countless holidays from our true first Thanksgiving in 2013 where I'd come to love my muffin harder, stronger, deeper.  I'd watch him age and become more handsome with every wrinkle, every white hair.  I'd snuggle with him every holiday  and fall asleep to the sounds of his heart beating against  my cheek.  

 I walked into the woods this evening and just sat in silence.  I listened for him, searched for him and felt him near.  I told him how I would give anything asked of me to bring him back.  Anything.  I wondered, how can I be thankful this time?   As I sat quietly among the trees, I remembered  the short poem by Canon Henry Scott-Holland that was originally delivered as a sermon in 1910.  

"Death is nothing at all, I have only slipped away into the next room.  I am I and you are you.  Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.  Call me by my own familiar name.  Speak to me in the easy way you always used.  Put no difference into your tone.  Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.  Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we always enjoyed together.  Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.  Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.  Let it be spoken without effort.  Without the ghost of a shadow in it.  Life means all that it ever was.  There is absolute unbroken continuity.  What is death but a negligible accident?  Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?  I am waiting for you for an interval.  Somewhere very near just around the corner.  All is well.  Nothing is past, nothing is lost.  One brief moment and all will be as it was before.  How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again."  Canon Henry Scott-Holland

I thought to myself in those woods, I will always be John's wife, and he will always be my sweet husband, my muffin.  Regardless of where life takes me, regardless if I open my heart up again one day, I will always be his, and he will always be mine.  "There is absolute unbroken continuity."  How beautiful is that?  

I wrote a blog a few months ago titled, "This is John's Rock."  I remember writing it after reflecting on the 24 hours of John missing, and the events that proceeded afterwards.  I believe in my heart that during that time that I was surrounded, protected and loved.  God was present then, he is present today, he is in my future.

"Yet this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope, the steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness."  
Lamentations 3:21-23

I believe that God has been here this entire time, consistently, with complete unconditional love for me.  He was present the moment John and I met, and he was present when John and I were separated.  I believe John is wrapped in his light.  I remember that today.  

"How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again."  I picture this for John and I everyday and what an incredible moment that will be.  

So as I sat in the woods and reflected on my life today and the things I am thankful for, I am humbled by God's grace and love for me.   I am so thankful for my family, my friends, my job, my sweet animals, for Fayetteville, for Oregon, for good health, music that warms my heart, for the mountains and rivers, the trails, the woods.  

I am so thankful for John.  For who he was to me here on earth, and for the magnificent light he is now that shines on my soul everyday.  I am thankful for eternity.  I am thankful for God's love.  

 "Remember no more the reproach of your widowhood."

Today is not about remembering that I am a widow, that John is gone, that I am not  a wife or mother, that my life is forever different.   Today is about reflecting on how beautiful my life has been, how beautiful my life still is, how beautiful my life will continue to be,  and the eternal love I have in my heart with John, and the love God has for me.  Today is about drawing on the strength God gives me.  Today is about thanking him through pain and loss and being thankful for my faith in the unseen.  Today I honor John.

"Enlarge the place of your tent, stretch your tent curtains wide, do not hold back, lengthen your cords, strengthen your stakes." 

I don't know how long I'll be here.  None of us do.  What I've come to realize though is that I have a purpose to fulfill and a mission to complete here on earth, and it's my job to figure out what that purpose is.  It's time to lengthen my cords, strengthen my stakes.  I know that when that purpose is fulfilled, God will bring me home to John.   Today, I thank God for that.

Happy Thanksgiving muffin.  My heart burst today and for all my days left with thankfulness for you.

Me and John, our last Thanksgiving 2013, above the clouds, Grants Pass, OR

The Blue Heron

Photo taken by Herb Wilburn

"According to North American Native tradition, the Blue Heron brings messages of self-determination and self-reliance. They represent an ability to progress and evolve. The long thin legs of the heron reflect that an individual doesn't need great massive pillars to remain stable, but must be able to stand on one's own.  Blue Herons have the innate wisdom of being able to maneuver through life and co-create their own circumstances. Blue Herons reflect a need for those with this totem to follow their own unique wisdom and path of self-determination. These individuals know what is best for themselves and need to follow their hearts rather than the promptings of others. Those with the Medicine of the Great Blue Heron may sit until the rest of us lose patience. And, when they follow the promptings of the heart, they are one of the most magnificent when they choose to soar"  T.Andrews, Animal Speak.

I remember the first time I got back in my kayak after John died.  It was on a Class II section of the beautiful Rogue river in Oregon, and I did this with my friend Lisa Byers.  I remember slipping into my boat on the river banks and feeling my hands shake as I attached my skirt to the cock pit.  I paddled out into the current and slowly allowed myself to flip over.  I remember letting myself sit there for a few seconds submerged in cold water, with nothing but the sounds of the current, thinking about what this was like for him.  I wondered if he even knew what was happening.  As I hung upside down,  I imagined myself holding John's hands and giving them a squeeze when I was ready to come up.

A man named Jerry McAward taught me how to roll.  I was 22 years old.  It was a long, cold day on a lake by the Lehigh River in Pennsylvania with my best friend Sarah.  We were in it together, wet suits and all.  Jerry had me hold his hands as we talked about the art of completing a roll.  The first thing he had me do before having me practice rolling though, was allow myself to flip over, and stay submerged, upside down, while he held my hands.  When I was ready to come up, I would give them a squeeze and Jerry would flip me back up.  Each time he would encourage me to stay there a little longer and focus on becoming comfortable upside down in the current.  He encouraged me to relax, be present, and trust his hands. You see, kayaking is all about trust.  Trust in one's self, and trust in the people you chose to kayak with.  Jerry was building that trust with me and quickly became someone that I always looked up to in the kayaking community, a true mentor.

That day on the Rogue, I pictured John holding my hands as I let myself drift upside down.  Finally I rolled up and took in a deep breath of air and felt nauseous.  I thought about him and why he couldn't make it to the surface, why he couldn't get air.  What stopped my strong, fearless John?  My mind self-destructs at times and searches for answers I'll never find, resolutions to problems I can't solve.  Scenarios of what I could have done differently to save him but can't now.  It's an urge to be there with him, experience what he did so I can understand, so he isn't alone in this.  I've even read the details of drowning and what takes place from start to finish.  I try to place myself there with him.  I have to know. 

 Lisa and I paddled down to the first rapid.  I remember feeling numb.  I couldn't believe that such a fun sport with incredible beauty killed my beautiful husband.  How something he enjoyed so much, something we always did together, something he was so good at could take his life.  How was I to continue kayaking?  How could I ever find that enjoyment again?  I remember feeling anxious about these thoughts as we paddled down stream, unsure of myself and my ability to really get back out there.

It was then, that something strange happened.  As we entered the first rapid, I noticed this beautiful blue heron sitting on the river bank staring at the two of us.  John and I always thought the blue heron was such a unique bird and so pretty.  We saw many beautiful herons when paddling the James river for years.  I locked eyes with this particular heron for a few seconds and oddly felt a sense of warmth wash over me.  It was like a protective presence reassuring me that this moment was OK.  That same heron stayed with us during a 5 mile stretch down the river.  It would fly ahead to the next river bank, watch us go through the rapid and then fly ahead to the next one and wait.  I had not seen anything like that before but for some reason, it gave me a sense of comfort and peace.

Ever since this first occurrence on the Rogue river, I've locked eyes with a blue heron on each river since.  Middle fork Smith, North fork Smith, Chetco, Sandy, New River Gorge, Gauley, and the James River.  This bird always seems to appear at the right time too.   I got to paddle with John's dad and uncle a few months ago on the New River near Narrows, VA, and watch both of them get back in their boats for the first time since John's death.  I remember a few days after John died, John's dad told me he would never kayak again.  I remember feeling sad about this, for I knew this was something him and John shared together, something he enjoyed so much with his son.  I knew John would not have wanted that for his dad.  Months went by though, and sure enough, Herb decided to get back in his boat.  Before we put on the river, I talked to John about this alone, and asked him to be with us on the river somehow.  I remember as John's dad paddled over to me he looked up and said, "Look Erin, a blue heron."  Sure enough, a beautiful blue heron flew right over the two of us just as we were starting the stretch.  I remember looking at my father-in-law and smiling, thinking to myself, "thank you Muffin."  I've had multiple friends tell me about heron experiences they've had since losing John that sound incredible. 

I started reading about the blue heron and what it represents.  I have to tell you, it sounds a lot like my fearless husband, John Wilburn.  I had lunch with one of John's best friends this past weekend in Fayetteville, Nick Milo.  We talked about John and how rare he was.  Neither one of us have met anyone else truly like John.   I never saw John worry, become afraid, or doubt his decisions.  He was true to himself and marched to his own beat.  He had big dreams and was determined to see them through.  He was kind, patient, present.  What Nick and I had was rare.  A rare friendship and a rare marriage.  John served a purpose in both of our lives, and we'll be forever different, forever better, because of him.

I've mentioned a few times that I always think about what eternal life is like for John now.  What is his mission and purpose in the after life?  I believe John understood our purpose here on earth more than I did, and more than many people do.  I believe he was ready for what was next.  I told Nick that I believe in my heart that there was never a moment of panic or worry for John in the end.  If anything, I believe he grew curious about what was to come.  I picture him moving towards that incredible light, ready to seek his next adventure.  

"Beside them, the birds of the heavens dwell; they sing among the branches."  Psalm104:12 

I have found new ways to draw close to John, to listen for him, to see him in a new way.  I hear him through myself, his family and friends.  I find him in the woods, the mountains, and on the river.  I see him in the blue heron that sees me and reassures me that this moment is OK.  

Artemis

“Artemis, “Goddess of Light’ had the Devine duty of illuminating the darkness.  She was often depicted carrying a candle or torch, lighting the way for others, leading them through territories uncharted.  Of all the Greek goddesses, she was the most self-sufficient, living life on her own terms, comfortable both in solitude and in holding the reigns of leadership.  She gives us courage.  She illuminates those places that terrify us, and lends us her strength to bring us safely through our fears.” 

I am currently reading a book that my mom gave me a few months back called “Saturday Night Widows.”  Sounds horrible doesn’t it?  I thought the same thing when she handed me the hard covered book with those big words.    I have so many grief books that people have given to me over the last 7 1/2 months, I could seriously have a library of sadness on Amazon.   Someone even gave me a book that looked like Little Red Riding Hood in her 70’s lost in the rain.  There were chapters on how to change light bulbs, pay bills, get gas, how to avoid strangers, and yes, even how to have sex again.  I'm just grateful for the light bulb chapter, phew!

The 5 stages of grief.  I believe our society puts high expectations on these stages.  If we aren’t progressing through the stages in order, something must be wrong.  I can tell you from my experience so far, there is no linear progression.  I can feel everything at once, I can feel nothing, I can feel strong, I can feel shocked, I can feel angry, I can feel despair, I can feel crazy, I can start to feel normal, and then I am not normal, and then I am hollow.  All of this can happen in order, out of order, repeating itself, or in a chaotic roller coaster.  It’s been over 7 months and I can’t tell you where I am because its different every day and its unpredictable.  Some mornings I wake up and feel a small accomplishment because John's death was not the first thing that crossed my mind, I actually thought about something else.  Other days I wake up in a sweat because I've had nightmares and my mind is consumed by John's death.  Both scenarios usually make for a better or worse day.   I believe this must be different for everyone and there is no general formula that fits every person.  It’s impossible.

When John died, I remember a week later  I immediately went into business execution mode.  I had this feeling of complete stress over the impersonal business logistics of dealing with the loss of your spouse.  Cancelling credit cards, putting cars and motorcycles in my name, completing his taxes, changing bills to simply Erin Wilburn, bank accounts, social security, life insurance, looking at my financial situation as now a widow vs a spouse.  I dove right into it with my sisters and took care of everything in a matter of 2 weeks.  Phone call after phone call, email after email until all business ordeals under his name were erased.  It’s not a choice either, everyone is faced with these task when their spouse dies and it sucks. Even now that I am living in a new home, I continue to get new mail for John.  Companies wanting him to sign up for cable, get a security system, report to jury duty.  I make another walk to the file cabinet to pull death certificates and let the world know again that he's gone.  The impersonal.

Apparently the pace at which I got this portion completed was not normal.  Some of this stuff takes a year for others to accomplish, but it’s all I could think of to do at the time.  John would have fully expected it to from me, it’s what I am good at, getting things done quickly, "to do" list.  John was voted “Best Procrastinator” of his senior class in high school and man was he a master at it.  I was amazed at how he could wait until the last minute, yet turn in a beautiful piece of work with forestry consulting, his dissertation in grad school, drive late into the night yet find the perfect camping spot in the middle of no where.  The first time I met John’s parents, we drove together to Toms Brook.  I remember being totally stressed on this drive because John had not mentioned to them when or what time he would be arriving.   Yet, things always worked out and he was never stressed.  I on the other hand am the polar opposite.  I am a planner, and a bit of a worrier.  Our differences made us a perfect balance for each other, with the perfect amount of intensity towards any situation.

   

I can’t tell you why I felt this huge sense of urgency to get this done, but all I know is I did not want the impersonal hanging over my head.  I wanted it behind me so I could put my energy towards what I needed to face more than anything, the absence of him and surrounding myself with comforting things that drew me close to him.  So what stage was that and was it right that it happened when it did?  I don’t care, it doesn’t matter, it’s what worked for me at the time.

"Saturday Night Widows" is about a group of women that come together after going through the abrupt loss of their husbands.  The idea came from one widow who attempted a few support groups and left each time more sad than she was before.  Her goal is to find a group of women who are in her shoes, look towards the positive, and decide to live.  These women push each other, work through their pain together and decide to venture out and seek adventure instead of complete pain.  Seeing how their lives have turned out so far together makes me smile.  It's a true testament of inner strength and beauty.  I have to say, I'm glad my mom gave me that book.

These women go to an art museum in New York city and come across a sculpture of a goddess named "Artemis."  After reading about her in this book, I did my own research on Artemis and I have to say, I find her fascinating.  I started thinking about the women in my life that are their own "Artemis."  Women that I find inspiring, women that carry their own torch, women that have worked through their own trials.  Some of these women have been monumental pillars of strength for me during this pain.  There are others that I've lost touch with, other's that simply can't be with me, yet a moment was shared between us that sparked something real in my heart and saved me.  I think of these moments often. 

My friend, Haven Livingston shared something with me a few weeks ago that I never thought of until she brought it to light.  When someone dies, it's important that we honor those that are gone.  But, even more importantly, we should honor the living.  We should honor those that are still here, those who still have to live, for truly living is not an easy task.  

To the women in my life who I believe carry their own torch;  regardless of how often we see or talk to each other, you have all been monumental pillars of strength for me at some point during this loss, and for that I will always be grateful to you.

My mother

My mother.  She has always been such an inspiration to me with her faith, her unconditional love, and leading by example.  She was on a plane within 2 hours of hearing of John's disappearance.  She stood right behind me with one hand on my shoulder while I said goodbye to John, putting all of her own pain aside.  I am proud to say I am my mother's daughter.  

My sisters

My two sisters, Lizzie and Bird.  There are no words to describe the strength these two women give me on a daily basis.  It's hard to believe I am older at times.  Their wisdom, words of encouragement and selflessness are truly inspiring.  They did everything for me for weeks after John died with no questions and have continued to put me before them since.  Both are incredible young women who inspire me everyday.  I could not get through this without my two sisters.

Meghan Magennis

Meghan is one of the most genuine women I have ever met.  She sends me hand crafted letters, helped me move into my new home in Fayetteville, and paddled right beside me my first time back on the Gauley river.  

Colleen Ciucci

Colleen was one of John's best friends and quickly became one of mine too after John introduced me to her.  John loved Colleen.  Colleen came to stay with me a few days at the beach when I arrived to the east coast from the hard move.  She was 8 months pregnant and already the mother of a 1 year old, yet she came to see me. Colleen is beautiful inside and out.

My mother-in-law, Susie Wilburn

At her own son's funeral, Susie took the time to tell me that I was the strongest person she knew, and that I was the perfect match for her son.  She made sure to tell me this while going through the loss of her own son, putting her own pain to the side to bring me a moment of comfort and strength.  I found that remarkable, and it is something I will never forget.

Paula Ogston-Nobile

Paula sent me one of the most beautiful letters I have ever read about a walk she took the day that John passed away and a feather that she found during this walk.  It was so thoughtful and touched my heart that I go back to read it from time to time.  Paula has always been an incredible friend.

Liz "Buzzy" Stockdale

Buzzy has been one of my best friends since we were 13 years old.  She would walk through fire for me.  Buzzy stayed with me during John's funeral in North Carolina.  Just having her presence and her strength near me was all I needed for those few days.  She has always put me before herself, and has always known just the right moment to make me laugh.  

Lily Christon-Arnold

Lily's kindness is infectious to those around her.  Lily wrote me a beautiful letter at John's funeral and gave me a stone that was given to her by another incredible young woman who suffered a similar loss.  Lily always sends me warm thoughts and continues to remind me that others are honoring John.  She has a heart of gold.

My sister-in-law, Belle Penaranda

Belle is my sister-in-law and my friend.  She is genuine and always makes an effort to put herself in my shoes when helping me through my own pain.  She has helped to ground me in moments of complete stress and always helps me see the big picture.  I am so glad she is married to John's brother.  She will always be my family.

John's grand mother (and mine too), Ellen Woodyard.

Ellen is an amazing woman.  There is not a week that goes by that she does not remind me that I am loved, prayed for and welcome in her home.  Ellen recently gave me a beautiful photo album that she put together of pictures of John from the time he was a baby until our wedding day.  She took the time to do this, putting aside her own pain so that I could have something beautiful.  John adored his grand mother, and so do I.

Brooks Whitten

Brooks gave up an entire week with her baby to help me drive across the country to the east coast and bring John home.  This was not an easy trip to make, yet she was there.  She has also given up multiple weekends and family time with her own husband so he could be a support to me in the loss of mine.  I am so thankful for that.

Antionette "Toni" Nichols

Toni is one of the most independent women I've had the pleasure of meeting.  She was my first friend in Southern Oregon.  She was also a part of John and I's first thanksgivings out of the retail world.  After John died, Toni made it so clear that she was here for me and stayed right by my side whenever I needed her.  She's an awesome friend.  

Jamie Hatcher

Jamie Hatcher may very well be "mom of the year."  She puts every personal need aside for her children, and I have always admired watching her with her girls.  There wasn't a day that passed that Jamie didn't check on me when I was living in Oregon.  She gave me a stone after John died with a beautiful note on how this stone has helped her.  I believe it is helping me too.  

Lisa Byers

Lisa Byers is one of the coolest girls I've ever met.  She is literally the female version of my husband.  It's why John loved hanging out with her.  Lisa was my best friend in Southern Oregon.  She was with me when they told me John was gone, she was with me when I got back into my kayak for the first time, and she's made her presence known in my life ever sense.  

Lori Tubes

Lori is one of the strongest women I know.  She was the only woman in the group of four that found my husband and she stayed completely strong while having to do something that I cannot imagine having to do.  Lori became one of my closest friends in Oregon after John died.  She has an energy about her that makes me smile and encourages me to chin up.  

Haven Livingston

Haven is beautiful.  She stayed with me for a week after I came back from the east coast just to make sure I had someone there, someone present.  She articulated John and I's marriage in a way that no one ever has, yet it was so spot on and she had only spent a short amount of time with us on the river.  She is kind, selfless, and an adventurist.  I admire her for so many reasons and am so grateful to call her my friend.

Mara Petretich

Mara represents the light at the end of a dark tunnel for me.  Mara befriended me when I moved to Fayetteville.  She lost her husband to a tragic kayaking accident as well.  She is a true inspiration to me because she embraced her pain, stayed so strong for her children, and found happiness again while continuing to honor her husband.  I think that is incredible.

Heather Warman

Heather also represents the light at the end of a dark tunnel for me.  Heather lost her husband to kayaking as well.  She has been able to say things to me that bring so much comfort because it is exactly how I feel.  She understands my pain and  has helped reassure me that I am still normal.  She continues to kayak and live life which I think is admirable.

Aunt Kristin

My Aunt Kristin lost her own child when he was 1 years old.  It was abrupt and tragic and horrible.  I did not realize the depth of her pain until going through my own abrupt loss.  It was then that I realized how strong she is and how deep her faith is.  I find Kristin inspiring.

Peyton Wilson

Peyton held my hand while I said goodbye to John.  She walked me into the chapel to see John and stayed strong when I could not.  Peyton continues to remind me that I am loved and prayed for.  She is beautiful and so full of love for others that you can feel it when you are around her.

Rachael Sandeen

Rachael reached out to me right after John died.  I took her up on this kind gesture and met her at a coffee shop in Grants Pass.  Having never met this woman, I immediately felt loved.  She cried with me having never met John or knowing us.  She was so genuine and her love for God was so strong it touched my heart.  Rachael continues to let me know that she is there for me.  She is truly a beautiful person inside and out.

Liz Arnold

I not only love Liz Arnold for her sense of humor and the friendship we've made since losing John.  I love her for the rock she has been for Melissa.   She is so encouraging, she's a leader and so respectful of both men.  

Emily Enochs

Emily has become my closest friend in Fayetteville.  We've hiked together, paddled together and cook many dinners together.  I don't think she realizes how much comfort she's brought me simply by her calm presence.  She is a woman of independence and is completely comfortable with herself.   I truly admire that and am so grateful for her friendship. 

Erin Board

Erin is another woman that befriended me right after I moved to Fayetteville.  She said something to me before taking her own adventure to Oregon that has always stuck with me, having never met John.  She told me that after meeting me, she felt strongly that God gave me to John because he needed me in his life, and I gave him something beautiful before he died.  It was one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.

Katie Key

Katie is one of my child hood friends.  She is now an awesome mother of two beautiful girls.  Katie has not only continued to be a good friend through this loss, but she's also shared her own personal story with me that gives me so much hope.  I know it can't be easy to revisit something so hard, yet she does in order to bring me comfort.  

My buddy, Sarah Fought.

                                   

Sarah is my family. My soul mate.  We've been buddies for over 10 years now and our friendship continues to grow stronger.  I always feel so loved by Sarah.  Her heart breaks for me.  There isn't a day that goes by that Sarah doesn't make her presence known.  She is a woman of so many strengths that people love being around her.  She is an incredible mother, wife, sister, best friend.  Sarah will be with me until I'm not here anymore.  The world needs more women like her.

Melissa Joyce

Melissa is a true example of complete sufficient grace and mercy.  She saved my life.  From the moment her husband died, she made it clear to me that she would put her faith first and set her eyes on what we can't see.  Pretty incredible.  She's my hero.

To all of you "Artemis" women, thank you for carrying the torch for me when I could not carry mine.  Whether it was a moment between us, or you've been here daily, you should know that it saved me.  I can only hope to do the same for you someday.  

Jared

"Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with inexpressible and glorious joy."  1 Peter 1:8

Jared Sandeen was one of John's first and closest friends in Southern Oregon.  The two met on one of John's favorite run's, Mill Creek located on the North Fork of the Rogue River in Oregon.  I remember John calling me that evening and telling me about his new friend Jared.  Not only was Jared a kayaker, but he was also a mountain biker, lived in Grants Pass, was really friendly and really laid back.  I could tell John liked Jared and wanted to get to know him more.  The two quickly became paddling and biking friends.  

The first time I met Jared was a chilly morning in October when John talked me into going with him, Jared and "the kids," (Jon and Hunter) to kayak the Upper Klamath river in Northern California.  Needless to say I did not make a great first impression on our new paddling friends and ended taking the roughest swim I've ever had down the longest and hardest rapid on the river leaving me with some epic bruises at the end of the day.  I developed what John called a "paddling block" after this swim and took some time off from paddling harder rivers to get my mental game back together.  John continued to paddle with Jared and Hunter on quite a few rivers, always returning with a smile on his face.

We spent time with Jared both on and off the trails and rivers, enjoying dinners together on a regular basis.  Jared is the reason I met my dear friend, Lisa Byers and found a female companion to help push me back into kayaking.  Jared always made John and I feel so welcome in Grants Pass, and in my opinion, made John's 6 month's in Southern Oregon so adventurous and fun.  The two of them were very much alike when it came to their need for the outdoors, adventures, and epic kayaking runs.  I am so glad John found Jared.

Jared Sandeen was John's last boating companion, the last voice he heard, and the last smile he saw before disappearing behind that boulder.  Jared was John's last person.  It's crazy the thoughts that run through your head when you are told that your husband is dead.  Thoughts that go beyond the gut wrenching reality that this is permanent and I have no choice in the matter.  I remember when they told me that John was gone, I thought of Jared.  I thought about the last 24 hours that we had been through from the time the two put on the river until that moment of this terrible reality, and my heart wept for Jared.  Jared was John's last person, and I knew in that moment that this would be a question that pondered Jared's heart into old age, "why?".  

I think about the 48 hours leading up to John's death.  How he canceled his plans all day saturday and spent the entire day with me, how he made a point to speak with his parents, how he played music, put together our reading room.  I remember that he somehow got cell service on the way to the Smith and had about 15 seconds to speak with Joseph Hatcher (another good friend in Oregon).  Where he got service, I've never seen anyone get service, yet he had 15 seconds.  Why was it Jared that was with him?  

Jared just spent a week on the east coast visiting me.  This was his first time to the east, and his first glimpse at the beautiful fall colors spreading all over the Appalachians.  Jared came to see me, meet and spend time with John's closest friends and adventure into the places that John loved.  He rode John's Santa Cruz mountain bike over multiple cross-country trails in West Virginia, kayaked the Upper Yough, the New and Gauley Rivers and hiked some beautiful trails throughout the state.  Jared spent a lot of time talking to me and John's friends about John's death, and a lot of time listening to us about who John was.  Jared and I also spent time each morning sharing scripture that speaks to us, and talked a lot about God's love and how he has moved us through this terrible loss.  We spent time crying together, but more importantly, laughing a lot together.  The thing that struck me the most about Jared's time on the east coast, is that he came here to listen and get to know my husband and who he was, what he meant to people, and how he lived.

As I drove back to Fayetteville after dropping Jared off at the airport, tears streamed down my face as I thought about what he had just done.  I thought to myself that that is admirable.  It is a genuine tribute to John and a testament of God's love for Jared and John.

People ask questions, all kinds of questions.  Do I blame Jared?  Am I angry with him for kayaking with John that day?  Is Jared reckless?   I only have one answer to all of these questions that people have asked me.  "No."  Jared is one of my heros and I love Jared for the friendship he gave John and for helping make his 6 months in Oregon one epic adventure.  

Jared could have disappeared, repressed what happened on March 9th and pushed everyone away.  I think many people would if this happened to them, and I can't say that I would blame them.  Jared was John's last person on March 9th.  March 10th, Jared had to rescue John and carry his body out of the gorge, and say good bye to his friend.  Jared has chosen just the opposite of forgetting what happened.  He continues to seek John even after he is gone and learn more and more about the man John was and those that loved him dearly.  He carries John's ashes down rivers, rides in the rain as a tribute to John, and has not left my side since those 24 hours of hell on March 9th.  

Jared walks with "the light" that I spoke about a few weeks ago.  I know it.  I can feel it whenever I am around him and it reminds me that John is OK.  

I will always love Jared not only for being John's friend, but for his bravery during those 24 hours, and for continuing to honor John and know who he was.  That to me is beautiful, and a true testament of God's love.  His smile is huge and the light he carries in him is infectious.   Thank you Jared for loving John and for being his last person. What a great reunion you two will have one day, where your adventures together will continue.

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