Fare Thee Well

“If I had wings, like Noah’s dove, I’d fly up the river to the one I love, fair thee well, my honey, fare thee well.”  Oscar Isaac

 I can remember my last day with John with so much detail that if I close my eyes, I can almost feel him.  I got home from work that Friday and found John in our garage (his man cave), working on his mountain bike.  After work routines usually consisted of the two of us cracking open a beer and discussing our day.  As I asked him how his day was, John started telling me about all of his weekend plans.  He was going to work on his mountain bikes, go kayaking with his good friend Jared, and play music with his new friend Joe.  For some reason when he said these things to me, I took one look at him and burst into tears.  Believe me; this was out of character for me.  I never had a problem with my husband’s independence.  I was the same in a lot of ways.  Not every weekend was spent hand in hand.  While many of them were adventuring together, sometimes we had our own personal adventures.  I turned and walked into the kitchen feeling silly that I had just had this melt down with him.   John appeared in the kitchen about 10 minutes later and said, “Muffin, I’ve cancelled all of my Saturday plans.  I’d like to spend the entire day with you, doing everything you would like.  I don’t care what those things are; I’ll be there with you while you do them.”  I have to admit this really shocked me, John had just rambled off all of his plans to me with excitement.  Now he was cancelling them?  I asked him why?  He said, “I can’t stand to see you upset, I’d like to spend the day with you.” 

So, we spent the entire day together the next day.  We got up that morning and had coffee on our front porch that overlooks the mountains with Jake.  We went to the farmer’s market together and bought fresh baked bread.  We walked throughout downtown to a few thrift shops in search for the two perfect reading chairs for the reading room we wanted to put together.  We ended up finding two chairs for a total of $55.00.  An old lazy boy recliner and a green chair.  Before hauling those back home we went decided to get biscuits and gravy at a restaurant called Blind George’s, known for its homemade popcorn, ice cream, and of course, biscuits and gravy.  We took our reading chairs home, loaded our mountain bikes and headed towards Cathedral Hills with our dog.  We spent the next 2 hours mountain biking the Outback Loop trail followed by Zed’s trail until Jake tired out.  I loved riding behind John and watching him soar through the woods on his Santa Cruz with Jake galloping closely behind.  He was an incredible mountain biker, with some of the best technical riding skills I have ever seen.  Later that afternoon we spent time in our reading room scrubbing our new chairs.  John stayed up there scrubbing those chairs for a solid hour before he felt satisfied.  I remember while we were cleaning our chairs, John turned to me and said, “I want to make sure I talk to my parents today on google chat since I’m going kayaking tomorrow and I won’t be able to see them.”   I have to admit, this struck me as a little bit odd coming from John.  John loved his family so much, but there were many weekends that we missed google chatting with his parents, his brother and sister in-law.  Missing these chats we’re never intentional, John simply viewed the weekends as a time to be outside and have an adventure.  He always knew that his family understood this about him.  I ran to the grocery store and when I got back I heard him chatting upstairs.  About 10 minutes later he appeared at the top of our stairs and said, “Muffin, come talk to my parents.”  So John and I sat in our new reading room with his parents and talked.  John showed off our new reading room to them, the new chairs, and told them how he was going kayaking tomorrow.  I remember right before the conversation ended, John told them that he loved them.  Later that evening I was at our dryer folding some laundry.  John had been outside doing some things in the garage.  When he came in the house, he came up behind me, spun me around and wrapped his arms around me.  We just stood there in silence holding each other.  I remember, resting my head against his chest and listening to his heartbeat.  John was a lot taller than me, so he would always lean his cheek down towards my face and I would always plant a kiss right on his cheek.   I remember him leaning his face towards mine and turning his head to the side so I could kiss his cheek.  He then looked right into my eyes and said, “I love you muffin.”  It was a moment that is so precious to me now, one that I often revisit and dream about.  That night we went to our favorite Thai restaurant in Grants Pass.  After dinner, John played music with his new friend Joe for 2 hours.  This was something I encouraged him to do; I am so glad that I did.

The next morning when we woke up, it was foggy and raining.  John was supposed to be leaving with Jared around 8:30am to head to Brigg’s Creek to go kayaking.  My plans were to head to the Smith River to paddle a Class II-III section with my friend Lori who was teaching some friends how to kayak.  I was in the kitchen putting John’s lunch bag together for his river trip.  He came in after loading his boat and said, “Muffin, Jared says that Brigg’s creek is washed out, we can go down to the Smith with you and run the Middle fork if you want?”  This sounded great to me.  I had never run the Middle Fork and had wanted to for a while.  The Middle Fork of the Smith is normally known as a Class III-IV 6 mile stretch of continuous white water.  I had not heard from my friend Lori yet, so I told him that would be great.  Jared arrived shortly after and told us that the river was rising rapidly and things should be big down at the Smith.  This seemed to excite both him and John.  I remember hearing that and feeling nervous.  John and I got in the Prius and began to follow Jared towards California.  It continued to rain.  I remember turning to John and asking him if he thought the river would be too high.  He said what he always said to me when he sensed my nerves, “Oh muffin, it will be fine, you will be fine, it will be a fun day.”  As we approached the Smith River, it became very apparent to me that I would not be kayaking that day.  The river was huge and clearly continuing to rise.  I had never seen it that big before.  We drove and scouted the Middle Fork section.  What was normally a Class III-IV river looked like a Class IV+-V, mainly because of the consequences of swimming.   We got to the take out and Jared asked me how I was feeling.  I told him, “I’m out guys, I don’t feel confident to be on the water today, and swimming isn’t an option today.”  Jared turned to John and said, “What are you thinking John?”  John looked at me and said, “I came to go kayaking today.”   I knew he would be putting on.  Jared and John then decided to go run the Upper South Fork Gorge, a Class IV-V section that was considered to be narrow, steep and big.  I remember when we got to the take- out; Jared turned to John and said, “It will be big, steep and technical.”  John then said, “Let’s go look at it.” 

We then rode to the put in.  I remember it began to pour rain.  John gave me his rain pants and told me to put them on, which I was glad considering I had jeans on.  Both of them geared up while I stood with them.  I remember we were discussing a car accident that a friend of ours had recently been in and luckily was ok.  I remember Jared turning to both of us and saying, “I try not to worry about when I am going to die or when my time is, I simply try to live in the moment each day.”  I remember us both agreeing with him.   Looking back, this gave me chills when I thought about what Jared said that day.  For some reason, I felt an urge to walk with them to the put in, even though it was pouring rain and I was getting soaked.  I wanted to be with them and see where they were going.  We hit the trail and started to hike down into a gorge.   I remember hearing the water roaring below.  We came across a waterdog while hiking that was on the trail and dying.  John yelled, “Whoa!  What is that?”   I remember the three of us stopping and staring at it for a few minutes.  John had never seen one before and felt really bad that it was hurt.  Jared realized that the trail did not lead directly to the river and the two of them would have to bush whack about 100 yards.  You could see the river from the trail; just not access it without heading through some major brush.  Finally the three of us stopped, Jared turned to John and said, “This looks as good as any access point.”  With that Jared started to step into the bushes and make his way through the woods.  John looked at me with his kayak and said, “Muffin, as soon as I am done with this, I will go kayak an easier section with you.  I bet Jared will even set our shuttle for us.”  I said, “That sounds great muffin, I’ll see you soon.”  He looked at me, smiled, and then began to head into the woods.  I remember standing on the trail in the pouring rain, watching my husband hike with his boat towards the river.  I remember seeing the back of his striped helmet get smaller and smaller.  I stood there and watched him until he disappeared into some brush, and even after that I remember just standing there continuing to watch the woods in the pouring rain.  There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of that last moment on the trail, and then watching him walk into the woods towards the river.

I made my way back to the car and drove to the take-out.  At this level, I knew it would only take them an hour at most to meet me there; the water was moving so fast.  Two hours went by and they had not shown up yet.  I stood on the bridge waiting for a while and then decided to sit in the car because it was raining so hard.  At 2 ½ hours, I saw a truck pull up with Jared inside.  The minute he got out of the car and looked at me, I knew something was wrong.  He came over to me and said, “Erin, John swam, and I never saw him resurface.  I’ve already called search and rescue, they are on the way.  I am going to go back up towards where we started and hike in, I want you to stay here until search and rescue gets here.”  I remember bending over when he said this and bursting into tears.  The words “search and rescue” felt like knives in my chest.  Jared grabbed me and hugged me, told me he would be fine and we would find him.  He jumped back into the truck and quickly disappeared up the road.  I walked over to the bridge that hung over the river and began to skim the water for anything, his boat, paddle, a sign of his life jacket, anything.  I skimmed the cliff sides, islands in the middle of the river; I looked for what felt like hours.  I remember dropping to my knees in the rain and beginning to pray.  I begged God to not take my husband away from me, please don’t let this be his time, please save him and let him be ok.  I remember telling God that this would end me if something happened to John.  I remember telling God I would do anything he wanted me to do, give up everything I own and love if it meant saving John.  Shortly after this I heard the sirens and then a caravan of cars come racing towards the bridge.  Ambulances, forest rangers, county sheriff’s.  They were draped in rescue gear, ropes, binoculars, first aid kits, walkie-talkies, you name it. 

They were not able to get a helicopter into the gorge that day due to the rain.  All I wanted was for that damn helicopter to get into the gorge, if John was hurt or stuck somewhere they would spot him before anybody else could.  Hiking into the gorge would take hours and would require some serious climbing skills.  We didn’t have that kind of time.  The rest of that day was a blur.  I remember as darkness approached, search and rescue could not go on any longer.  They had been searching for about 5 hours at that point.  They told Jared and me they would be back first thing tomorrow morning to start again.  I remember wanting to scream.  There was no way in hell I was leaving without John.  Jared and I drove around for hours after that down every fire road you could imagine.  We honked the horn, got out and yelled, sat in silence.  It continued to pour down rain.  I have never felt more useless in my entire life.  John could be anywhere needing our help and we couldn’t get to him.  Finally, Jared told me we needed to get into town with cell service and start calling some kayakers.  As hard as it was for me to drive out of that gorge, I knew how important it would be to get some help from some local boaters the next morning so I agreed to go.  We drove into town.  Jared spent the next hour getting a group of safety boaters together that would be meeting us the next morning to help.  I then made the tough decision to call my parents and John’s parents and inform them of what was going on.  I couldn’t even get the words out on the phone.   It was my worst nightmare.

Jared and I stayed with a local that night that was gracious enough to offer his home up to us.  I did not sleep at all.  Around 1am I sent a message out to our friends back east and told them what was happening and asked them all to pray.  Within that 12 hour period, there were people praying for John all over the country.  I have always been and always will be so grateful for the power of prayer.  I remember sitting on the bed shortly after sending out that message, and something very strange happened.  It was dark in my room and I could hear the rain and I just sat on the edge of the bed sobbing.  In that moment, I felt a presence beside me, as if John was sitting right beside me on that bed with his arm around me.  I had never had an experience like this before.  I remember I immediately started talking to him.  I remember saying, “Muffin, I know you are here with me right now.  Whatever happened to you, I want you to go back and fight.  Go back to wherever you are right now and fight.  You can’t go yet, we have way too much to do.  Please go back muffin, I love you, please go back.”  I knew he was there in that room with me, I could feel him.  While that feeling was so peaceful, I knew what it meant and that was something I was not willing to face yet.  So, I told him to go back. 

Jared and I met a group of 7 kayakers at 5am the next morning to begin the search.  They split into two groups to hike into the gorge, upper and lower.  They felt it was best for me to stay back and wait for search and rescue to show up.  Once search and rescue arrived, I felt like I needed to do something, hike in and help, not just stand there waiting.  My friend Lisa suddenly drove up, another avid kayaker and incredible friend.   She had heard of John missing through another kayaker and immediately got in her car and found me. The two of us got in her car and drove up to the put-in, where I hiked in with John and Jared the day prior.  We began to hike in and see if we could see any progress and help.   It was strange.  The day before there was so much rain, I didn’t notice how beautiful this hike was.  That day with Lisa, the sun broke through the trees and the moss glistened on each rock.  There were also multiple water falls that we came across as we continued into the gorge.  After hiking for about an hour, we decided to turn and head back up to see if there was any news.  About halfway back to the trail head, we came around a switch back, and there stood a search and rescue man waiting.  The minute I looked at him, I knew.  I asked him if they had found John.  He just nodded.  He then said, “Erin, let’s take a walk up to the car.”  I planted my feet and told him no.  He then said to me what I would find out later to be inaccurate.  “Erin, we found John.  He was pinned underneath a rock.  He is dead.  We may not be able to get him out of there until tomorrow.”  I remember after he said this, I turned to Lisa and everything got blurry.  My vision, sounds, my grounding, everything.  Lisa grabbed me and I told her I needed to sit down.  I remember sitting down and beginning to shriek.  I grabbed onto Lisa and planted my face into her.  I felt like I may pull her to the ground I grabbed her so tight.  I remember her saying, “Erin, you do whatever you need to do right now.  It isn’t fair; it’s not fair at all.”  Looking back, I would not have had any other person with me in that moment; she was a rock solid friend for me while I received the worst news of my life.  I somehow made it back to the take-out where search and rescue was stationed with Lisa’s help.  I quickly received news that the kayakers were going to get him out of there, not to worry, he would come out today.   Lisa drove me out of the gorge shortly after that back to Grants Pass.  I couldn’t be there when they pulled him out of that river, I just needed to know that he was coming out and would not be left there another night.  A few days later I would be told that John was never pinned under a rock, he was simply washed up on some logs in the middle of the river, not submerged at all.  Jared told me that once they got him out and to the river bank, he sat with John on the river bank just staring at his peaceful face.  He could not believe he was gone, he looked so peaceful.

I talk to John’s dad every Tuesday now, it’s our routine.  I adore John’s dad.  To me, he is like a father.  He shows kindness, strength and wisdom that I hope to acquire someday.  I hear John when I talk to him and I see John when I see Herb.  There was no one else that John had more respect for than his dad.   We were talking about John’s ashes and John’s dad said two things to me that really resonated with me.  He said, “Erin, if this happened to you, and John were left here on earth, what would you want John to do?”  I had never thought of things this way before but the answer came to me so clearly.   He then told me that as time passes, he hopes I will release John’s ashes into the places that we loved.  He told me that I am too important not to move forward and I can’t hold onto his ashes forever, John would not want that. 

I decided this weekend I would release John back to some of the beautiful places we loved.  My brother in law put together three small bags for me this morning in our reading room.  Lizzie and Luke drove with me into beautiful Northern California.  I spread John among some beautiful redwood trees, the Oregon coast and finally, the Smith River.  There was something so peaceful about holding him in my hand and then slowly opening my palm and letting the wind carry him back to the earth.  I could feel him smiling and saying “Thanks Muffin”.  Back to where he loved.  The Smith River was the last place I released him today.  Jake and I did it together.  You will see it in the picture which I find so symbolic.  You can see John in the air, beside Jake and I as I let go.  He is with us and he is with you.  He rest among the red woods, the mountains, the rivers, the coast, his spirit is in all these places.  I look forward to spreading him all over this beautiful country where he will see and feel beauty everywhere he looks. 

Don't Stay in the Chapel

This was an email I wrote to some very close friends about a week ago. I thought I would share.

Hey friends, I’m struggling tonight, I’m just going to go ahead and put that out there. I feel compelled to write out some of my thoughts, I hope that’s OK. Before you continue reading I just want you all to know that I love you guys so much. Its not anyone’s job to fix my pain, fix this situation, fix me. I can only do that. Don’t feel like you have to pick up the phone and call me when I go to these darker places. In a way, I think allowing myself to feel this pain is healing. I have found that while it’s incredibly painful to write out my thoughts since this happened, it also gets these feelings off my chest. I’m only sharing my thoughts with you because you are my people and for me, it’s important to be honest with where I’m at with this and be real about it. I don’t do that with many people, I want most to think that I am just fine because I don’t want them to worry. With all of you, I’d rather be real. I promise not to write a lot of sad emails like this. I look forward to a day of happiness again, I hate feeling this way.

So this evening while walking Jake, I had this vision. It’s a tough one so I’m sorry for sharing it, but again, you are my closest friends and I just need to get these feelings off my chest.

 I’m driving to Crescent City through the Smith River Gorge. You couldn’t ask for a prettier day really. The sun is shining, the sky is blue, the river is emerald green. I am in the back seat staring out the window, trembling. I have a packet I hold tightly in my lap. This consists of my marriage license and John’s birth certificate. You have to actually present these things before he can be turned over to me. I remember while traveling thinking, “who would have thought I’d be presenting my marriage license at a mortuary so I can get John’s remains once he’s cremated, huh.” As we approach Crescent City, I can feel the wave of fear and panic wash over me, my body begins to convulse even more, I actually remember seeing dots and feeling pins/needles. We get to the mortuary and park. I get out of the car and walk slowly towards the entrance, it feels like it takes 10 minutes, every step is exhausting, like I’ve run a marathon. Michael open’s the chapel doors. There is a man waiting there and quietly introduces himself to me as the director and guides me back to an office. I remember stopping at the restroom on the way there and washing cold water over my face, anything to awaken me, I feel like I’m in a dream, none of this is actually happening.

We meet in an office where the director starts talking, again in a whisper. I notice that everyone seems to whisper to me since this has happened, like I might break into pieces if people use normal tones. Whispering is actually soothing. There are tons of papers I am asked to sign with price points. Over $2,000 to cremate John, he would have been so disappointed. I can hear him now, “Muffin for God’s sake, go get some matches and let’s get out of here, what a joke!” John hated to spend money. He was the most frugal person I knew. I can’t hear anything the director is saying, I just attempt to sign everything while my hand just shakes. The director leaves for a moment and my mom exit’s with him, I have no idea why. Michael ask me if he can pray for me. I nod. I can’t remember the details of the prayer, but I know Michael asked God to give me the strength to see John, peace and comfort. After this a sheriff comes into the room. He has a trash bag. He whispers to me that John’s gear is in the trash bag and it’s still wet. My mind wanders. I picture them taking off his helmet, his life jacket, his skirt, were they gentle with him?  Kayak gear can be confusing for someone who doesn't understand it. I shake away the thought.

The director then comes back into the office and tells us we can go see John. I literally start to convulse. Mom and Michael tell me that if I want, they will go in first and see him and then tell me yes or no. I trust them. They are only gone for maybe a minute at the most. I sit in the office with Peyton just waiting in silence. My mom appears and says, “you have to see him Erin, trust me.” Michael nods. I try to stand but can’t. Michael comes over and grabs my arm, Peyton the other. The two of them escort me down this long hall like guardian angels and around to two double doors. I dread this moment, screaming inside, once I see him, it’s real. The doors open. There is hymnal music playing, it seems loud. I am standing at what feels like the entrance of a chapel. I look at the end of the aisle and there sits a table with John lying on top of it. I begin to scream. I just remember screaming his name the minute I see him. Michael and Peyton grab me tightly and begin to walk me down the aisle, I just continue screaming. Again, this walk feels like forever, like trying to walk through quick sand. I don't even remember moving my feet, it's like I'm floating. Like the scene in a horror movie where the hallway continues to get further and further away. As we get closer, John is laying on this table completely draped in white sheets. His eyes are shut, mouth is closed and hands are folded neatly across his chest.  I have never seen anyone look that beautiful and perfect, yet gone.  It's as if he's simply taking a nap, like any minute he could wake up and ask all of us why everyone is so upset.  I remember getting to the table and then hanging over him screaming his name over and over and over again. Michael and Peyton continue to hold me by the arms. I start to touch his hands, his face and hair. He is so cold, his hands are freezing. I start to cup my hands around his to try and warm them up, they are so damn cold. I grab his face and pull his cheek to mine to try and give him some warmth.  I hang over him sobbing and just saying his name over and over again for what feels like hours. Gradually, I start to feel the panic dull, the tears dry, and this incredible feeling of calmness starts to wash over me. It was unreal.

Finally, I turn to Michael, Peyton and my mom and tell them I am OK to be with him alone now. Michael pulls up a chair for me and then they all leave. It’s just me and John in the chapel together. I grab his hands and hold them in mine and we start to talk. I tell him all the things I would have told him had I known this was coming, had I known that Sunday was our last day on earth together. I apologize to him for all the times I was a nagging wife, I apologize for not nagging him the day he paddled and drowned. What I would give to have been a nagging wife that day and kept him from kayaking. I apologize to him for not talking to him about my faith more often and I apologize that he wasn’t with me in those final moments so I could reassure him he would be fine. I laugh with him for all the hilarious memories we hold, I sob with him for the memories we don’t get to have, the parents we won’t be, the senior citizen special’s we won’t get and more. I make promises to him. Promises to watch over his family, all of you, to take care of Jake and to honor him by continuing to live. I promise him I won’t give up and I’ll continue to live a life of adventure and happiness. I ask him to stay with me, guide me through life, help me to figure this situation out. Most importantly from that conversation, I thank him. I thank him for being my husband, for devoting his love to me and for showing me adventure, confidence and unconditional love. I thank him for bringing out my best self.

I remember after that, standing up and kissing him. I kiss his hands, his cheeks, his forehead, his hair, his lips, his eyes. I just want him to feel my warmth one more time, feel my touch one more time. I whisper in his ear “I love you muffin, I always will and I’ll see you again, what an incredible reunion that will be.” I remember walking backwards out of the chapel, slowly. Trying to savor that last image of him. Peaceful, and beautiful. I know he was there with me during that moment, he heard everything I said and felt my touch. I sure felt his, I’ve never felt that calm and at peace in my entire life.  I left him smiling.

About a month before John passed away, we sat down for dinner one evening. Right as I was about to enjoy a mouth full of seasoned chicken thighs, my husband turns to me and says, "Are you afraid to die?" I have to admit, this was a very odd question coming from John. He had never asked me anything like this before. I turned to him and said, "Do you seriously want to talk about this right now?" John said he did and he truly wanted to know how I felt. I told John that I was not afraid to die. While I don't want to have a terrible death, I am not afraid. I truly believe that there is something so much bigger than what is happening right here on this earth and its magnificent. I told him that our time here is temporary, and I believe our lives continue after we die. He said, "Well, if that's the case, why do you get stressed about the things here on earth? Why do you get stressed about bills, me not doing laundry, your job, money?" I said, "Well muffin, I'm a human being, and I'm your wife, these are just the realities of the world we live in." John sat there and seemed to ponder what I had said. He then said, "Well, I have to admit, I am terrified to die. What if our lives just end, what if that is it and there is no preparation for it?" I looked at him and said, "Muffin, look around you. Look at where we live. Look at the beauty you are surrounded by and the wonderful life that you have. I think what is important is that you are a good person, you live a full life, you do the right thing, give back to the earth and you love. I think in the end, when your time comes, all of this will make sense to you, and it won't be terrifying, it will be peaceful, you will understand." He looked at me for a while, smiled, and we went right back to our chicken thighs. I remembered that conversation as I slowly walked out of the chapel, I am so glad he asked me.

Weeks later I am driving with my dad, the same route to the same mortuary in Crescent City, CA. We get there and again, the director greets me with his whisper voice. They present me with death certificates. There I see my husband’s name. Cause of death: Freshwater drowning. Wow. He comes out with a large bag with a box in it and tells me “here are John’s ashes.” He tells me to take it with two hands for it is very heavy. I grab it and am shocked by how heavy it is. We drive back to Grants Pass in silence. I get home and take this box up to our reading room, this peaceful nook of a room John and I put together the day before he passed away. I sit him on the book shelf, looking out at the mountains.

I attempted to take some ashes and summit Grayback mountain this past weekend (John and I's first hike together in Oregon) so I could spread him. I got to the box and couldn’t even open it. I want to spread him, I feel so bad for leaving him in our reading room every day while I go to work, mountain biking, kayaking, walks, dinners, etc. He deserves to be outside where he loved, but I just can’t let him go yet. I want to keep him with me. Some nights I sit in the reading room in silence with him. It's hard to imagine how this vibrant, strong, heart beating husband of mine no longer physically exist, yet sits in a box in my house. How is that possible? How is that fair? But for now, he remains in our reading room, gazing out at the mountains. I’d like to spread him with each of you at some point in a place that was special to you and him. I think that would be really great. One day.

After sharing these thoughts with my friends, one of John's best friends and a close friend of mine sent me a note. Here is what it said:

"Erin

One thing that strikes about your visit with John is it can be such a positive allegory to this longer experience that you're going though. Grieve now, communicate with him as you can, and draw yourself as close to him as possible. I find it interesting that Friends helped you into the chapel, during the darkest part of your vision, but you moved slowly into the day's sunlight on your own. Don't stay in the chapel with John forever. Know absolutely that the love between you is eternal and that there is no need to fear slighting him by moving beyond him. He is with you. I hope that you and I can paddle the Gauley and ride Douthat with John again soon, and in old age, through the ashes."

My friend is so right. John would not want me to stay in the Chapel with him. He wouldn't want that for any of us. He's on his next adventure, I plan to continue mine here until I can see him again. God's grace is sufficient. He reminds me of this everyday when I get up and am greeted by the mountains and the sun. He reminds me that John is OK, that he's got his arms wrapped around John, and he's utilizing John for a huge purpose.   I'm so proud of John for that.

I am not a writer

I am not a great writer.  Throughout college my younger sister would read my papers and edit them for me so my work would be somewhat presentable in class.  This continued as I applied to jobs my senior year at James Madison University.  Bird would read my cover letter, shake her head in disbelief and then re-write each letter for me so her big sister could get a job.  Thanks sis:)  She did this on top of her own school work, no questions asked.

It's been 61 days since I've seen John.  I can replay that last day with him in my head so clearly.  One day I will tell that story to all of you.  I am not a writer, yet I have quite a bit on my mind and no where for it to go.  I have been writing in a journal since losing John, mainly memories that cross my mind.  I write everything down so I can savor it, remember it and revisit it when I want.  Some of those stories I may share, some are just for him and I. 

John was my heart.  Everyday I would think to myself, "wow, I love my husband so much it is insane!  How do I have it this good?"  He was an incredible lover, best friend, kayaking partner, mountain biking companion, dog owner, the list goes on and on.  We even worked as a team giving our cat "Dingles" insulin shots for a few months.  He was my family, my world, and we had a beautiful life here in Southern Oregon.  Sometimes it felt too good to be true.  John and I were both very independent, yet worked as a team.  I have never had anyone balance me the way that he did.  We were not perfect, we were simply perfect for each other.  Never in a million years did I think I'd quit my high paying career of 7 years, sell (I mean give away), my house in a low market, leave my friends and family and move across the country to seek a life of adventure and the unknown.  My husband built this confidence in me and taught me how to live.  I took this leap of faith with him as we came to Oregon together.  Even under these circumstances, I still feel so blessed to have been married to someone who brought out the need for adventure in me. 

Living on this earth without him just plain sucks.  There is no other way to put it.  I hate it.  Some days feel impossible, as if I am walking around in a Jello mold, unable to function.  I now live in the shell of once was a beautiful life.  John is everywhere I look, yet he's gone.  It is a shock to my system every morning, and still feels impossible, as if it could not have happened. 

I am not a writer, but I've decided to start writing.  I have a lot on my mind.  Many feelings, thoughts and beliefs about losing John.  My hope is that creating this blog will help me to release those thoughts and be honest with myself about what loosing John has really been like for me.  A friend recently told me that while writing may not help me, it will help someone else.  Maybe it will help you to hear my story and know who John was.  I hope so.

My Tribute to John

                                                                    "My Tribute to John"

 

   

"My Tribute to John", this was read by me at the Celebration of Life ceremonies in Mt. Airy, NC and Grants Pass, OR.

 

My husband, or as many of you may know, my “muffin” was the most adventurous, athletic, humble, intelligent, genuine, handsome, hilarious man I have ever met.  We met thanks to a mutual friend in Richmond, Virginia back in April of 2008.  I’ll never forget having coffee with this friend who started to tell me about John, trying to talk me into meeting him.  He told me that John was extremely handsome with dark features, he was a forester, he drove a Prius, and he lived on a river.  This friend told me that he had no doubt that John was my soul mate (even though we had not met yet) and this was simply the man I was supposed to marry.  I remember thinking he was crazy!  This friend said, “Trust me Erin, you just have to meet John.”  I’ll never forget this friend telling me, that while he wasn’t sure what John’s beliefs were, he could instantly tell that John was a spiritual person with an old soul and displayed the behaviors and characteristics of a great man.  Shortly after this coffee date, I agreed to trust our good friend’s instincts and meet this man named John Wilburn.  I will forever be grateful to our good friend that I did.  We had an instant connection and sure enough, found ourselves kayaking down the James River the very next day. 

 

The next almost 6 years have been nothing short of a great adventure.  We had the opportunity to experience some beautiful places together all over the country, kayaking new rivers, mountain biking new trails, and summiting 14,000 foot mountains.  He turned me into the kayaker that I am today and guided me down rivers I would have never done without his patience and encouragement.  I got to experience nature’s beauty from the lines of a river and for those of you that are kayakers, you know what a gift that is.  John saved my life twice while we were kayaking together, and is the reason I am here today. 

 

John was one of the few people I’ve met that are completely comfortable with who they are and what they believe in.  He never conformed to the world of technology.   When I first met John, he lived in a cinderblock cabin by a river in the middle of nowhere.  He owned a guitar, a table, a single bed, a wood burning stove and an IPOD.  I had to actually convince him to get a cell phone so I could call him!    You can tell a lot about a person by who their friends are.  I believe this ceremony today is a true testament to who John was and the people he surrounded himself with.  There were no “surface” friends in John’s life.  Every friend was a true investment for John and someone he had an important connection with. 

 

I had the opportunity to experience with John what I believe were his happiest moments in Southern Oregon.  Where we live is a true gem and a place where a new river, mountain bike trail or hike presents its unique features every weekend.  The kayaking and forestry community in Oregon instantly loved John and we were so blessed to develop a great group of friends so quickly.

 

God blessed me with the precious opportunity to be with John after he passed away.  I held his strong hands, stroked his beautiful hair, and kissed him for the last time.  In those final moments, there was a feeling of complete warmth and peace that washed over me.  I began to smile and laugh over the joy I felt for him.  I looked at my beautiful husband and knew with absolute certainty, that he is OK.  It was clear to me in that moment, that John is in a much better place, with no pain, no worry, but complete joy, happiness and peace.  I know his adventure is continuing in paradise.   I believe that when my time comes to leave this earth, John will be waiting for me, and I have nothing but praise and thanks to God for receiving John in those last moments and taking him home. 

 

I have continued to feel John’s presence with me throughout these past two weeks and know that his spirit will always be with me.  If he could speak directly to all of you now, I believe he would tell you to live a life of adventure and explore.  Don’t spend your time chasing the dollar bill, staring at a TV, and getting caught up in what other people think of you or what your status should say every 5 minutes.  Go outside, play music, drink good beer, never waste food, read hard cover books, and always look for the witty humor in things.  Don’t be afraid of a challenging recipe, with patience can come one delicious meal.  Learn to be comfortable in moments of silence with each other.  If you can create or build it before buying it, do just that.  Never pay for camping, it’s the woods for goodness sake.  Always take your dog with you on adventures, or to the grocery store, or to work, a man’s dog should go with him everywhere. 

 

Thank you so much for being here today and showing me how John impacted your life.   To know the influence my husband had on so many people is truly inspiring.  That man built a confidence, strength and sense of humor in me that I will continue to share with all of you as we move forward. 

 

I’ll close with a verse from the last song my husband was listening to just before leaving this world.  This is a verse from the song “Close to the Edge,” by YES. 

 

“Crossed the line around the changes of the summer,
 Reaching out to call the color of the sky.
 Passed around a moment clothed in mornings faster than we see.
 Getting over all the time I had to worry,
 Leaving all the changes far from far behind.
 We relieve the tension only to find out the master's name.”