Epic

My last vision of John was 5 years ago.  It was a quick nod, and then watching him bush whack with his kayak down to a roaring flood stage river.  I stood there in the rain until his helmet disappeared behind the last tree.  60 minutes later my life would become abruptly different.  John would be dead, but we would search for him well into the next day.  I knew before I really knew.  I mean, don’t we all?  It’s the same story every time.  Flood stage rivers are huge, contain trees, bus eating holes, implode spray skirts, are completely unpredictable, and kill people.  The river that day was climbing roughly 2000 CFS per hour.  I remember reading the gauge on American Whitewater as we drove towards the Smith that day and my fear alarm went off.  I expressed my concern to him, “do you think this is a good idea?  We have no way of knowing what its going to be like at the rate it's climbing.”  I was told to relax, to let go of my paranoia, that “THIS.WOULD.BE.EPIC.”  Every now and then I think to myself, in his last moments of life did the thought ever occur to him, “my wife was right.”  It took me a long time to admit this to anyone.  I defended him for years, “he was perfectly capable of being out there.”  No, he wasn’t, no one was, and every year on March 9^th, I seem to go back to that, and then the rage I’ve buried deep into my gut ignites.  One must not stay this way for long.

John came to see me last night in my dreams.  This time he had incurable cancer.  I realized in this moment I would watch him die all over again and felt instant sadness.  When John was alive, he was terrified of getting old and eventually sick.  He constantly talked about how he did not want to grow old, and the thought of his body shutting down was frightening to him.  In the dream, he gave me all his belongings, along with a letter that he told me to read once he was gone.  He then gave me a huge hug, and told me he was going to go summit a huge mountain so he could watch the sunrise for the last time.  I begged him to stay with me, but he couldn’t, he had to get to the top of this mountain.  He said with a big smile, “it will be epic.”  I watched him leave, as I sat in a pile among all his things, all over again.

I think those that go before us never are completely gone.  I think their energy stays with us as we continue onward.  We find them in our dreams, in triggers that spark a memory, in our own frustrations or joys, they are always there.  John’s story was always going to be this, he was never going to grow old, and somewhere in his gut, I often feel that he knew this.  I think his drive to find his epic moments in life whether on the river or at the top of a large mountain drove his heart.  For the longest time I internalized this and felt that I came second to these moments.  I’ve realized over the years that this was John’s connection to his creator, to the source that put him here.  He felt his best in these moments, because it was his connection to God, to the love that no human could give him.  The visual that there is something beyond us.  He had to have more of that feeling, every day. 

While the death of a loved one can stay with us every day, there is something about a death date that can ask us to go back in time, revisit the events of that day, reflect on decisions made, face regret over words not said, find our inner rage over how quickly things were lost.   After John left this world, I asked myself, what is my version of epic?  I’ve learned with time that it does not quite look like his version, but its epic to me because it is where I find my own peace, my own worth, my own purpose, my connection to my creator.  It doesn’t involve Class 5 rivers anymore or 14,000-foot mountains, but I have a life in the mountains that brings me joy and peace and that alone feels epic to me.  I realized for years I was living a life that spoke to John's epicness, not so much mine.

A few things I’ve learned over the years...

Don’t idolize people and let them take the place of God.  They are withering and so are you, so am I.   We make great humans, we don’t make great Gods.  John was my “God” for years, and he was terrible at it, as he should be.  When we put people before the love light that put us here, we tend to feel completely lost when those people leave us.  We feel that we can’t survive without them, yet we can, and we must when they are gone. 

When something doesn’t feel right, speak.  When you have something to say, speak.  I found my voice after John died, just ask my husband Tristan.  Look at your husbands, look at your wives and speak.  When you have an argument with your partner, argue with passion and complete vulnerability, with complete openness to each other.  This is how you survive together, how you connect to something bigger together.

Love yourself.  Love sitting with yourself.  Find moments of solitude and silence every day.  If you love others more than you love yourself, you may not be able to love others without fear.  Loving yourself is not selfish, it’s essential to connect to something bigger.  Loving yourself allows your partner to see your most authentic self.  When we see that in each other, we see God.

When someone leaves this world, when they leave you and you loved them, recognize that their death is their story, it is not fully yours, it’s simply a part of your life experience.  Sometimes we have to cast off our ego to recognize the difference between those two worlds.  People use to refer to me as “John’s widow.”  I found comfort in this for a while, because I idolized him.   I realized at some point that I was never his, and he was never mine, we both belong to something greater.  We’re all here independently and the love we find for another is a beautiful part of the life experience, and that is here and now.

Feelings of anger towards others, energy towards confrontation, rage over something in the past, this puts you into a karmic cycle that you will revisit over and over again until you resolve it.  When we choose these feelings, we choose to carry that energy within us.  We carry the burden of negativity.  This affects us both emotionally and physically and it pulls us further and further away from the love light that put us here.  Cast off your ego.  Let.It.GO.  Love each other.  Love yourself.  Love your Creator.

My day of epicness consisted of a long slush snow hike with my love Tristan and our two dogs, a tag team on the much-needed cleaning of our house, lunch with some friends, and sitting in the quietness of our house by a fire.  Tristan met me wherever I decided to be today, but he didn’t carry the burden of John’s death, because it’s not his to carry and its not mine either. 

I will always and forever love my husband John.   I miss him every day, and when I’m not here anymore, I look forward to a real hug from him, wherever that may be beyond all of this.  He lived a life of adventure and it was fun to watch him connect with something bigger every time he pushed off onto a river.  He found his epicness.  I am finding mine every day.  Don't try and live someone else's epic life, go find yours and speak truth to it.