9 out of 10

The police brought a trash bag of everything they had removed from him before I saw him.  In the bag were his belongings, including a helmet, a dry top, a life jacket, dry pants, a few layers of shirts and long johns, his shoes, and a spray skirt.  Hours later, I would take these items and hang them on our outside line to dry, like I had done dozens of times before.  They would bake in the sun, and then be thrown into a gear tote, just like the many times before.

 Lifeless and cold, he still looked perfect.  Not a hair out of place.  I could no longer stand so I just laid over him, stroking his hair, holding his hands.  I kissed his eyes, his cheeks and his lips, I grabbed his face and pulled it close to mine.   My hands we're so cold from touching him, and I just kept pressing them to my cheeks afterward on my way home.  I wanted the coldness to seep into my bones and stay with me forever.  

 I've had this reoccurring dream for over 4 years now where I find out that John never really died, but instead he just went somewhere else.  He has a different family, a different job (one time he was a mail man), a completely different life.  I can never make it to him in this dream, someone always just informs me with photos and video footage.  It's always a good friend in the dream that approaches me with, "Erin, we've been meaning to tell you something.."  In one dream I remember screaming at John on the phone about how friends and family had completed a river clean up for years in his honor, yet this whole time he was alive somewhere else, how selfish can he be!  In the dream I always feel confused, irritated, even panicked.  What is real?  Is he in some other parallel universe living a different life?  For years I would dream about his death, my dreams would manifest into many different scenarios of what could have possibly happened to him that day.  I would wake up drenched in sweat, unable to breathe, panicked. I rehashed his death with friends for years.  What happened, why did it happen, how could it have happened, this was John we're talking about.  He had more endurance and athleticism than most people I've met.  He had a stoicism to him that seemed to always stay consistent, even when shitty things happened.  He showed no reaction to physical pain.  Many other's always felt safe and confident with him. 

                                        John and Harrison, Z-Drag Rescue, Top Yough, 2012

                                             John, 20 Footer, Blackwater, Broken Nose, Spring 2013

                                                        A few hours later, and still smiling.

John was frugal to a fault at times.  If he could fix it, or make it himself, he would always do that before spending money.  I actually loved this about him and always found it to be such an attractive quality.  For years, when we lived in Richmond, John's "dry top" consisted of a cheap splash top, and his version of a neck gasket was a trash bag wrapped around his neck with duct tape.  He created a throw bag out of a potato sack.  John would purchase cheap, beat up paddles for $20, and then try and fix them with epoxy.  These paddles would always end up snapping.  I got John a brand new Kokatat dry top when we lived in Virginia, I couldn't bare the trash bag anymore.  I bought him a rescue vest when we moved to Oregon.  His dad bought him a nice paddle meant for creek boating.  John never purchased these things for himself, he'd just try and fix what he had.  The one thing that I never did purchase for him was a spray skirt.  John always wore a black mountain surf skirt that he had when I met him back in 2008.  He bought this skirt back in 2004 when he started kayaking.  I remember seeing him in our garage in Oregon over the winter placing aqua seal over the holes that had appeared on this skirt from years and years of use.  By the beginning of 2014, this skirt had been in use by John on powerful rivers and water falls for almost 10 years.  

 I found out a few days ago that John died because of a simple piece of gear completely failing him.  4 1/2 years later.  His spray skirt imploded after attempting to punch a large hole, leaving him with no choice but to swim on a river where swimming simply was not an option that day.  I always thought that if this day came for me, where I would finally know the truth, that somehow I would feel better.  I would receive some kind of closure and understanding that would put me at ease.  I would no longer have to live my entire life wrestling with every possible outcome.  This phone call, this new piece of information in the puzzle of March 9th 2014 really didn't do any of those things.  Instead, it just pushed me into a downward spiral of emotions and stress that I haven't had to visit in years.  It's the kind of news that takes you right back to that moment where everything shifted, where life would be different forever.  That stupid saying, "The truth will set you free."  Will it?  I felt like this truth suddenly imprisoned me.  I found myself back in our Oregon home, laying on my back paralyzed, staring at John in the door way, stuck in his gear, confused and sad all over again.  I felt enraged, and my rage spiraled towards him.

Living in the New River Gorge, I am surrounded by incredible athletes.  People that live here are passionate about what they do whether its kayaking, rafting, river surfing, mountain biking, rock climbing, trail running.  All of these sports require you to trust your gear.  A rock climber that goes out to climb with a faulty rope or harness could easily fall to their death.  You can't put on the lower new at 10 feet with a shitty spray skirt or a helmet that doesn't stay on your head.  Without these things working the way they are supposed to, not only are we putting ourselves at major risk, we put others at risk too.  

Invest in your gear, and talk to your friends if you notice they are wearing gear that is just not safe.  Don't donate shitty gear for someone else to purchase that is brand new to a sport.   If you don't have full confidence in the gear that allows you to do what you love, than buy new gear or don't go.  

Had John been wearing a newer skirt meant for creek boating, things would probably have turned out quite differently that day.  But he didn't, he had a 10 year old bungee skirt on that was way too loose, worn out over years and years of use, old holes patched more than once.  This was a piece of gear that was just not capable of doing what he needed it to do that day.  

Tristan and I have John's skirt now hung up in our own gear closet, never for anyone to use, but as a reminder of what happened to him and how easily that can happen to us and those we care about if we don't take accountability.  I can only hope that by sharing his story, other's will do the same.  9 out of 10 times, maybe it will be OK.  For John, it was OK for years, until it wasn't.  I did not want to write about this, or go back in time, but I have to.  I think John needs me to, and I need to for myself for if it makes someone think twice about that crappy helmet they've had for years, or the skirt with holes in it, or the rope that has worn with use, I'm good with that.   

James River, VA, 2008, same skirt

James River, VA, 2009, same skirt

John, Upper Gauley, WV, 2010, same skirt

John, James High Water, VA, 2011, same skirt

John, "Grace Under Pressure," Class 5, Great Falls, VA, 2012, same skirt

                                       

        North Fork Smith, California, 2013, same skirt

    

John, Chetco Wildnerness, Oregon, Class 5, February 2014, same skirt.  John died 10 days later.

Don't be another 9 out of 10 story.  Think about not only yourself, but your family, your close friends.  Don't let them come visit you in a morgue because you were too stubborn to finally cave and buy what you needed to.  Check everything, and then double check it again, and then triple check it.  Be safe out there and watch out for each other.  

We Love You

A few years ago I was having dinner with one of my closest friends and her 3-year old at the time, Henry.  In the middle of dinner Henry looked up at me and said, “Erin, John is gone.  He went away didn’t he?”  I looked down at this little boy and said, “Well, yes he did, I suppose he did go away.”  He then said, “He’s just somewhere else.  You’re here, and John’s there.”  As the lump in my throat grew bigger during this conversation with a toddler, Henry then said, “One day you will write a book.”  I looked at him somewhat stunned.  His mom chimed in and said, “Well what will the book be about Henry?”  He said, “It will be a book about Erin.”  He then went right back to telling me how the noodles he was eating looked a lot like snakes, and the conversation of John and my future was over.

Every now and then I think back to that conversation with Henry.  He was only 3 years old at the time.  Whenever an adult comes up to me and tells me I should write a book, I always go back to Henry, the first person that ever told me that.  If I ever do, I’ll be sure to thank Henry first.

I believe that children have more wisdom and intuition than we give them credit for.  When my sister was barely 2 years old, she was playing on her toy telephone.  She looked up at my mom and said, “I’m talking to your dad.”  My mom said, “Oh Pop Pop?”  (My mom’s step dad).  My sister said, “No, your real dad.  He told me to tell you that he loves you.”  My mom’s real dad had died years ago, and my sister wasn’t even born when that happened. 

I believe that children (especially very young children) were just recently where we adults all came from.  I think they have a connection back to our creator that is real, it’s a connection that so many of us lose over time as we grow older and become more exposed to our chaotic world.  I think we tend to forget where we came from, and with time we lose the knowledge we were born with.  When I see someone that is so broken and hurting and lost, I always say to myself, “let them remember where they came from.”  When we can remember, love enters.

I found out I was pregnant Monday night, June 18^th.  I had been feeling strange all day at work.  Bloated, exhausted, constipated, my boobs were sore, and that lovely time of the month had not arrived.  I had a meeting that went late so was staying in Charleston that evening.  We wrapped up around  9:30pm and I decided to drive to Target and buy a pregnancy test.  I was staying with a family friend that evening, and in their basement bathroom I sat there impatiently waiting as the test worked it’s magic.  About 3 minutes later, I saw those 2 lines appear and just like that, life simply felt different.   Around 11pm I called my husband and said, “I knew it!”  Tristan in his more grounded wisdom kept encouraging me to not get too excited yet, wait and take another test and let’s go see a doctor.   Well, of course I couldn’t contain it and I just sat up until about 1am laughing, crying, and of course starting to plan because that’s what I do. 

I found out Monday June 18^th I was going to be a mom.  Only 10 days later, I found out Wednesday June 27^th that I was absolutely heading towards a miscarriage.  I’ll spare you all the gruesome details, but I started having complications only a few days after getting that positive result that pretty much kept me on my back with the exception of attending  my nieces baptism for over a week.  I couldn’t go to work, I could do very little activity, and all we could do was wait and hope for the best.  We were in and out of doctor offices doing blood work for over a week.  We even switched doctors through the process because we felt like we were too much in the dark with what was actually happening.  Tristan and I even turned to Dr. Google (not a good decision) through this process just trying to understand if this may turn out OK.

 I've learned through this process that when you do miscarry, it can take weeks for the pregnancy hormones to leave your body so essentially your body thinks you are still pregnant and you get all those lovely first trimester symptoms, but with no baby on the way.  I am still going through this now and probably will be for the next week. Women go to work while this is happening, they take care of other kids, they continue on with daily life. 

I hesitated to share my story, as many times this is such a private thing.  On the other hand, I have some things to say about this journey, and decided to write about this as it’s happening now, and share my experience so far because I think it’s important for people, especially other women to hear the stories that don’t always end in a fairy tale and know that it happens to a lot of women, and it doesn’t mean you won’t have a healthy pregnancy in your future. I've discovered through my own miscarriage that this happens to so many women, sometimes more than once.  I talked with some brave, amazing girlfriends that shared their stories with me, putting me at ease with what was going on with my body and what to expect.  I also learned that it doesn’t matter if it’s 5 weeks, 2 weeks, 12 weeks, or worse, you feel connected to that soul before you even see the positive line and when you lose them it hurts like hell.  I knew women that had miscarried and I always thought to myself.  “That’s so sad, but it happens, they didn’t know that baby yet, and they’ll get pregnant again, they’ll be OK.”  I was so wrong about that.

 Tristan and I shared what was happening with us with some of our closest people because we believe in the power of putting intention towards something that needs a divine shift.  I begged and pleaded with God over the last week, but I also knew that the place I came from and the place my son or daughter came from see’s the future that I simply cannot.  I continued to talk to my kid through this entire process.  Tristan and I both placed our hands on my belly, we played binaural beats on my belly, hell I even let him put a purple crystal on my forehead.  I would have done anything.  I told them that if they needed to go I understand, but selfishly I want them to stay.  I told them about myself, their dad, their grandparents, aunts and uncles and the incredible people they’d be surrounded with throughout their life.  I told them they would always be loved, and Tristan and I would do everything we could to support them through their purpose while they’re here. 

I have to admit I felt defeated this week.  I felt like my body had failed me, and I had failed my kid.  My hats off to you parents out there.  The feeling of failing a child that was probably the size of a rice grain left me in tears.  I can't imagine what it actually feels like when they are standing right in front of you.  On the other hand, I am grateful for the experience.  I felt what it was like to be pregnant only for a short time, and even through all the not so fun symptoms, I felt connected to something in a way that I never have, and for that experience alone I feel ecstatic about. 

I recently heard someone say that “The foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom and the weakness of God is greater than human strength.” 

I believe it.  I have to remember where I came from during this shift, for it is so much wiser and stronger than I could ever be, and it’s love is beyond anything I am capable of.  My child was never really mine, it belongs to the light that I believe loves me more than I’ll ever be able to love anyone.  I rest easy feeling confident that's where they are now.  

Thank you for your encouraging thoughts and prayers this week.  To the women that bravely shared their stories, thank you.  To my husband who is the most positive person I know, I adore you.  Finally, to my child, thank you for choosing us even if it was for such a short time, I so hope we can meet you one day, we love you. 

To Oregon

Oregon,

I make my way back to you tonight.  It has been almost 2 years since my last visit to your rolling green mountains and majestic waterfalls.  Never had I seen a place with such breath taking beauty until I found you.  You have the kind of beauty that is so dramatic and so mesmerizing, so many times I felt as if you were not real.  Surely we had not landed in this place for our new home.  We vacationed to places like this, we didn’t get to live in places like this.  Yet with patience and determination, we found our way to you, a home nestled in the rolling green mountains packed with Douglas Firs.  You Oregon made me feel like an outdoor kid on Christmas Day every day.  Driving to work watching the sun scrape over your mountain peaks that were actually volcanos at rest.  Paddling your rivers that were so clear that 10 feet to the bottom looked like 2 feet.  Your water was so clean I could drink right from your streams.  Mountain biking through green mossy trails bordered with fluffy green walls felt like a scene from Star Wars.  I felt grateful when I walked your trails, lighter, with a view point permanently imprinted on me.  I would never settle for less after seeing you and spending time with you.  You set the bar quite high.

Why couldn’t that had been enough?  I wanted you to be beautiful, a chapter in my life that was an adventure of outdoor heaven, and that is all.  Yet with your beauty came incredible pain.  Pain that crippled me, imprisoned me.   I felt that my view point was suddenly skewed, and for a while I could not see your beauty.  I felt heavy when near you.  Suddenly you were this place that took everything from me.  I saw darkness on your mountains, in your rivers, there was nothing majestic about you anymore.   So I left you, I gave up on the adventure, I got as far away from you as I could, I thought I may never return.

Thank God for time.  The perception of time and space helps us grow stronger and let go of those pain shackles we feel obligated to carry when we lose a part of ourselves.

 I could not avoid you for the rest of my life.  I knew in my heart that my other half stayed with you, a part of me was with you.   I come back to you each time remembering your original imprint on me, breathing in your fresh air, feeling grounded on your trails.  I feel him when I am with you, he is everywhere, for you Oregon are where he was always supposed to be, where he can now rest.  A visit to you is a visit to him.  I feel my past life asking for my attention as I get closer and closer to your mountains.  I heard his voice this evening as I closed my eyes on the plane say “Remember why we came here Erin.”  I think remembering this in my current life, remembering this with these new chapters are so important.  So, I’ll lay aside the distractions of day to day life, and I’ll recharge myself on your mountain tops.  I’ll remember him as I visit you, and everything he was and still is.  Present, respectful, immersed in nature.  I’ll go back in time so that I may recharge and find my balance again.

I’ll embrace and belly laugh with forever friends.  These are the kind of friends where you pick up right where you left off.  The kind of friends that have carried the torch for me for years when I could not.  Friends that cast their own pain to the side for me.  Friends that got me back on your rivers, back on your trails, friends that helped me see through the darkness that clouded you for years.  Strong, badass women that I am so grateful to know.  

Life continues to move forward, and I keep changing as the years go by.   You Oregon sparked that change with the first sight of your beautiful mountains.  I’ll continue to come back and spend time with you into old age, spend time with the memory of him, belly laugh with some of the best women I know, I’ll remember why we came here.  So hats off to you Oregon, through the scars, you are still so incredibly beautiful everywhere I look.  That is all.

As You Were

I walked through the snowy woods this morning as the sun hid behind the grey clouds.  It was quiet, and so cold.  With every crunch of my boots hitting the frozen ground, I called out to you.  Some wished for herons, rainbows, a crack of thunder, any sign that you may be close.  So many called out to me today, reminding me that they too remembered, they too were walking with it in a heavier way than they normally do.  I think we all hoped on this day that you too may call out and remind all of us that you once existed, and somewhere beyond the mountain tops I walked upon this morning, the steps I am sure many of your friends and family walked throughout the world today, we all hoped that you still do.  That you still exist somewhere within our reach. 

It's strange to me that your death day brings out these desires, these rituals.  It's so morbid at times.  We seem to travel back in time on March 9th.  We inflict ourselves with the torture of your loss.  I can remember the smells, the sounds of the sirens, the headlamps, the cold rain, the helplessness.  I can go there in an instant.   I learned pretty quickly after you left that this one day of pain would not be the case for me, and for many.  The absence of you would not resemble in a day, a short moment in time, but with every second, minute, every beat of my heart.   We would walk with open wounds every day until we're not here anymore.  I have learned with time to fuse with these scars, to disguise them through my genuine laughter, my smile, my work ethic, and the love I can still give. 

Beyond my flesh and bones there is a brokenness within me that is finalized.  Apart of me has turned cold since March 9th, and my ability to give everything, to love everything with every part of my soul has seemed to seize.  Nothing taste quite the same anymore.  Am I a good wife now?  Am I genuine?  I wonder at times if Tristan may have been cheated by my scars, my fears, my anger.  Must he always share me with you, you who are gone, you who left, you with your reckless need for thrills, you who I adore, who I love, who I am homesick over?  I'm hurt by these thoughts, I feel cheated, disgruntled, I felt angry at you as I walked. 

As the tears began to build and I felt I just might allow myself to break and crumble into my morbid thoughts, something happened.  Something happened as I stood out over the mountain tops and stared way down into the river below me.  I could hear you screaming up at me through the rapids.  I heard you so loud, so clearly that I froze, my attention turning to face you head on with my anger, with my questions, with my opinions.  There you were as promised, getting stronger and stronger so you could help me.  I felt something electric move within me, a warmth from my head to my feet.  I could feel your heart beating within me, and it was like my eyes were re-opened to the vast beauty all around me.  You told me to chin up as you always have, to look ahead as you always have, and to remember you not for the pain, the rage, the hurt, the sadness, but for the laughter, the love, the adventure that was you, that is me, that is all of us that search for you.  You reminded me to use your heart and your strength to give all my love to my husband, my family, my friends, to those that may be coming one day.  So I soaked you in, I inhaled the cold air until I felt my lungs may explode, I held you in my chest until I felt my heart begin to rest again.

So I smiled back at you through the bitter cold, I blew a kiss to the sky, and I thanked God for the joy and love I can still feel within my heart through the scars.  I thanked God for my life that emerged from you, and for my past life that is forever with me. 

I closed my eyes and pictured you, arms stretched out towards me, young and vibrant, no worries in the world, smiling, laughing, just as you were, just as you are, just as I am.

As you were muffin, as you were.

Go Easy On The Zombies

Fayetteville, WV May 2014 (Myself, Bird and Lizzie)

This was a picture my sister took of the three of us 2 months after my first husband John died.  We were in Fayetteville, I was looking at rentals and trying to figure out if I was truly going to leave the west coast and move here.  I'm miserable here.  I had no joy at the time, I felt weak, I was exhausted but could not sleep, I couldn't even fake a real smile.  I was a zombie.  I avoided pictures for a long time because pictures are meant for smiles, and it took everything for me to muster one up for a while.  Think about this condition as you read my words. 

Three weeks after John died back in 2014, I returned to my job in Oregon.  In a three week period, I had breakfast with John, we went thrift store shopping,  I saw his cold body on a table lifeless and empty, I cremated him and saw his body go from a body to a small box, I held two funerals, I went from married to widow, just in three weeks, and was now back at work.  My first day back, a co-worker stopped into my office and asked me how I was doing.  I remember just staring at him and saying something to the tune of, “well….”. I then asked how he was doing.  He said, “Well, the sun is shining, and I’m not in the obituaries so I am doing GREAT!”  We then stared at each other, no one speaking, for about 15 seconds, and then he left.  I remember feeling like someone had just punched me in the throat.  I look back on this strange memory and can laugh about it now. 

Over the years I’ve had some very odd encounters like this, just to list a few..

5 minutes after finding out John was dead..

“How long have you been married?  My wife and I are about to celebrate our 50th wedding anniversary!”
“Do you want a sandwich?  All I can think about right now is food, we’ve been searching for hours, I'm starving!”

At his funeral…

“Did John accept Jesus before he died?  I sure hope so.”
“Don’t worry, you’re very young, you’ll marry again in no time.”
“Do you regret not having children?”
“What happened?  How did he die?  Did you see it happen?”
“This was God’s will.”

Within the first year of his death..

“How heavy are his ashes?  Do you have much left?”
“You know what I think the worst way to die would be?  Drowning.  Man that must be horrible.”
“Sometimes I wanted to punch John in the face for encouraging others to kayak the way he did.”
“I totally get what you are going through, my boyfriend and I broke up and that was tough.”
“I’d rather my spouse die than cheat on me, at least your marriage ended on a good note.”
“I haven’t seen my husband in 3 days and I feel like I’m dying, I can't wait for him to come home!"
“At least you didn’t have children.”

Over-time..

“You need to start dating again or you’re going to end up being an old angry widow.”
“I’m not ready for you to not be John’s wife, you dating someone else is hard for me.”
“Your grief isn’t as hard as mine, you didn’t know John as long as I did.”
“Aren't you sad to be getting married again?”
“Are you actually thinking about changing your last name?”
“You two only had 6 ½ years together, imagine how hard it would be if you had decades.”
“Look at the amazing things you’ve done with John’s death, you’ve truly turned lemons into lemonade.”
“You can replace your husband and get a new husband, his parents can’t replace their son so…”
“It’s time to move on Erin, you just need to move on.”
"Do you love Tristan more than you loved John?" 

I’ve hesitated to write about this over the years, because I truly feel that none of these comments came with bad intentions or with intent to hurt.  If anything, they came from a place of uncertainty, hurt, fear, shock, and even love.

 Lately though I feel that I have come across a few individuals who are in the thick of things and are experiencing some bizarre moments with friends, family, co-workers, strangers, and they don’t know how to handle it because they are zombies right now and can barely pour a glass of water.  Our cognitive behaviors are debilitated when we lose someone so close to us.  It's as if you are functioning in a jello mold, everything takes effort, breathing is literally painful.  Your body is there, your mind is gone. You are a shell, stuck inside of your vessel floating around in space while the world around you seems to still be functioning.  I feel protective of these individuals because I remember what it was like to be there and how words at the time could so easily feel like knives in my chest, I would just crumble beneath them.

  Over time I’ve channeled my inner smart ass, and I must admit that there have been moments I took a lot of personal enjoyment in giving a response that probably made other’s feel quite uncomfortable.  When an inappropriate comment came my way, I'd throw one right back and act as if it was normal, well, because it was at the time.  Someone once told me that they couldn’t live without Starbucks, they would literally die if they couldn’t have it daily.  I looked at them and said, “Well, I didn’t think I could live without my husband, but he’s dead now and here I am!”  I once went to a wedding where the officiant talked about how the two would grow old together and the hands they hold now would one day be wrinkly and aged.  I leaned over to my good buddy, also a widow at the time and said, “Maybe?  Don’t put all your eggs in that basket!”  To the person that wanted to punch John, I suggested throwing his ashes into the air and giving it a hard swing.  Let that anger out.  Someone once assumed that I must be divorced when realizing that Wilburn was not my maiden name and yet no ring on my left hand.  “Not divorced, widowed, my wedding band started to feel like a daily reminder of that so its now on my right hand, that ok with you?”

I’ve learned with the harder comments over time to hold my tongue, and even laugh about it later, because it’s just a disconnect between two people.  I don't need to make someone feel bad for something they've said.  If anything, comments like these have allowed me to lean into my own silence more and more, to check in with myself and realize that no one really knows what to say in these circumstances, and sometimes when we try so hard to say the right thing, we say the opposite out of nervousness and fear. 

John’s death allowed me to let go of everything over the years.  I don’t carry anger the way that I used to.  I am not at odds with anyone.  Being at peace with my husband, friends and family is a top priority because those relationships could end in a second.  I don’t carry weight anymore that isn’t necessary and I don’t put weight on others to carry.  If I died tomorrow, I would die knowing that my family and friends know they are loved by me.  There is no anger or resentment, years of not speaking, just love.

  When someone behaves in a way that I can’t connect with or understand, I recognize that their behavior comes from something inside of them that they may be battling with and its not for me to judge or dissect.   I try to understand everyone’s view point, even when it’s not mine, because I believe deep down that most people are good inside, they just live in the harsh world that I also live in and that’s really hard.  I’ve learned to laugh things out as much as possible because the one thing that is always good for the soul is belly laughing, even when it comes to death.  I never assume anything, and I chose my words very carefully with people because I don't know what cards they've been dealt or what kind of pain they've had to endure.

 I'd like to give some advice to those who are close to someone that has lost someone so dear to them.  I've been living with this new version of me for almost 4 years now and feel this may be helpful. 

A few key things that I feel are important…

-You don't have to ask how someone is doing, they're doing horribly, and that's completely fine.  If anything, let them know it's horrible, acknowledge it with them.

-You don't have to say a lot.  All you need to say is you’re so sorry, this absolutely sucks, it’s not fair and you love them.  One of my cousins left a voicemail on my phone only 3 days after John died.  He said, "Hey couz, I am so sorry, I don't know what to say......ummmm.....this is fucking terrible."  I remember listening to it and laughing out loud, because he was absolutely right and it was the first time in 3 days that someone just came out with it and allowed it to be exactly what it was, terrible.  Thanks Cousin Scott!

-Doing verses saying is better.  Just go do something for them whether its mow the lawn, grab some food, cook, run a load of laundry, clean their house, take their dog on a walk, anything.  I had a great friend that came and stayed with me for about 2 weeks after John died.  She didn’t have to say much at all, she was just there and sat with me, quietly, made sure my animals were fed.  It was everything I needed at the time.

-Silence is OK.  Sit with your friend, family member and hold their hand, put your hand on their shoulder, let that energy transfer to them that spreads goodness, let your words go.  If you need to speak, pray quietly for them in your heart, send good vibes to them.  You don’t need to solve things for them.  My mom would sit with me and just put her hand on my shoulder or hold my hand, we didn't need to talk about it, I just needed to sit there and cry and that was ok.

-You don’t get to have an opinion about how a person should grieve, when they should date, how they should handle belongings, what stage they should be in, where they should work, when they should smile again, how quickly they should be moving through the process.  It’s not for you to experience, it’s not your burden to carry.  Even when you have been there before, your experience was yours alone.  You do get to be a good friend, a good family member and allow that person to work through it the way they need to as long as they aren’t harming themselves.

-Don't try to make a person's death something positive or somehow justify the life they have now because of a previous death.  Telling someone that they've come into this great life and done great things because of their spouses death doesn't feel good.  They are in that life because that is the life they are in, it was not by choice.  Chapters do not need to be compared, they simply need to be respected. 

 -Grief is not a competition or a comparison chart.  Grief is something to be respected and acknowledged for everyone going through it.  To live is to grieve, and something we all will experience multiple times throughout our lives.  Don't treat it like the plague.  Don't try to take it away.  Let your loved one sit in it, let them scream and rage and cry and laugh and try new things.  It's ok.

So there are my two cents.  To those that are in the thick of it, I promise you will learn to laugh about these strange encounters later, and over-time these moments will make your heart softer.  Recognize that those that love you truly do have the best intentions, even when they say things that may hurt.  The anger will dissolve over time, and you’ll understand that we’re all just people here on earth trying to survive.  Zip it, sit with it, acknowledge it, respect it, don’t judge it.  Go easy on the zombies, for one day they will be people again.



                             Me and my sweet husband Tristan, October 2017, belly laughing. 

Step Into Each Season

For the last few years, there have been only a handful of times, where I have found myself in these bizarre moments since my first husband died that feels like a shift in the universe. I don’t know if there is a crossing of energies, or a moment of intersection between our souls, but it demands my full attention when it occurs. It’s as if I️ could reach out into the air in front of me in that short moment and he’d reach back.

Oddly, I’m thinking of a family member as I️ write this that I’ve lost all touch with. In the past, she would have told me I was simply creating this in my mind, because I wanted to feel him, not because I actually was feeling him. She’d tell me I️ wasn’t dealing with the reality of death, and she feels sorry for me. Her words tend to revisit me when these moments occur for me. I️ often think to myself, “maybe you’re right, his death has made me slightly crazy. My thoughts are morbid and hopeful and completely out of control, and beautiful all at the same time? I am intrigued by death, I️ want to know everything about it.” I’d also think to myself, “Woman, if only you would feel what I do in these brief moments, you’d feel the burden of this loss lift for just a little bit, and those hard feelings that have ripped at your heart for all these years would unclench their claws for just a moment, and maybe, just maybe you could breathe again and see him in the faces of those around you, maybe. You could sit with him for a bit, maybe.”

This past week I was in New Orleans for a conference for work. When I wasn’t in class, I found myself alone a few times in the big city with the opportunity to venture out. Since losing my first husband, I have found that alone time is quite enjoyable. I️ have come to like myself, even enjoy my own company over the past few years, so a quiet meal alone with a book and the chance to people watch is awesome. New Orleans is a wonderful place to do this. The last time I was in New Orleans was back in 2011 with John. We had gone for a 4 day vacation to enjoy the food, music and culture. John was a huge jazz fanatic so this was a very important destination for us. We probably walked 30 miles that weekend, exploring every historic landmark, enjoying so many oysters, and venturing into the cool music venues on Frenchmen Street (where the locals go) to listen to music late into the night.

This week, on my way to see my cousin play (she’s a badass jazz musician living in New Orleans with her badass husband who is also a musician), I found myself in one of these rare bizarre moments. I suddenly stopped mid-walk and looked to my left and there sat the Old Coffee Pot Restaurant. This quaint little restaurant that I immediately recognized was the first place I️ had a delicious gumbo dinner with John years ago on our first night exploring this crazy wild city. I️ stared right at the small table by the window I once sat with him, young and ready for a night of music. I️ could almost see us sitting there. Across from this was a 3-generation family that started playing “When the Saints Come Marching In”. There were people everywhere passing all around me, cars and horses, it was mayhem. I just stood there and closed my eyes.

Through all the chaos, I swear if I could see everything we can’t see, I’d see John standing right in front of me, merely separated by a small hazy wall of some other universe, acknowledging with me that yes he remembers, the food was delicious and the music was lovely. I stood there in the street smiling and crying and laughing and then suddenly dancing. I felt grateful for the memory and the brief pause that allowed me to stand at attention with him. These moments do not happen often, but when they do they are lovely.

The word “season” came to mind as I stood in the street. I am in such a beautiful season of my life right now. I got married to my best friend Tristan just a few weeks ago. I️ have to say, it’s the most fun I’ve ever had at a wedding. To have all of your favorite people in one place, dancing and laughing, gave me a burst of energy that left a permanent smile on my face all weekend. I️ love Tristan so much I️ feel that my heart could explode. I’m convinced I have the world’s best husband. I feel connected to him whether we’re in the same room or thousands of miles away. He is my person and I am his, in this world and the next. I believe the energy between us is unique yet so similar to the connection I️ have to John, and for all of that I feel extremely grateful.

 If you had told me 3 1/2 years ago that I’d find that kind of love again, I would have told you it was impossible. It took a while for me to believe it, to visualize it, and to eventually speak to it. It happened for me though, this season arrived and took over, there was no stopping it, it drew me in and captured my heart.

When my sister told me that she was pregnant, I️ felt once again as if my heart may explode. My family has been so excited for the arrival of this new little human for the past 9 months. I watched the birth of my niece just a week ago. I was so proud of my sister in that moment. She worked so hard to bring Eloise into this world safely, and is already proving to be world’s best mom. I thought of John as I watched Eloise take her first breath, and let out her first cry. I️ wondered if he met her before she came to Lizzie and Luke. I️ wondered if he helped her get here, helped her decide on her purpose. I wondered if he helped Tristan and I️ find each other and come into this new season of joy.

 Do those that go before us help us walk through each season? Do they function as these spiritual guardians to those of us still here, helping us move through each season? The cry of my beautiful niece felt like angels singing above, it was the most precious sound. A new season for my sister and brother, a new season for this small human. I thought about how death and birth all almost feel the same to me now, just a continuous cycle of purpose and experience, joy and pain, all leading us to the source that I think put us here.

We’re all just in between seasons. My hard seasons are not over, there will be pain again, loss again, unexpected abrupt endings to things that go too soon, disappointments. To think I’ve served my time is dangerous and not real. What I do know is I will be better prepared for the next season that challenges my heart. I’ll walk through it with more grace, more patience, and a genuine belief that it all just intertwines, and brings us closer to the energy of God.  I don’t think we’re meant to stay in those hard seasons forever.  We should not wear them like a black shawl.  I think it’s ok to step into something new, while always respecting those past seasons and what they’ve taught us.

I find John on the rivers, the streets of New Orleans with beautiful jazz music, in the cry of a new born baby, in the kind eyes of my sweet husband Tristan, in the expressions of his older brother and the sound of his laugh, to the morning tunes of Steeley Dan, in the smell of a burning fire. I find him everywhere. He reminds me of these seasons I’ve walked through, the joyous one I am currently in, and the vision of seasons to come both joyful and painful. It’s all intertwined, and I’m grateful to be present in it, to stand at attention, to hear and see God through the absolute chaos. I believe when we can step into these brief moments and allow ourselves to stand still, we can shed off the weight of the world we live in, even if it’s brief, and connect to those that left before us, those that are on their way here.  These moments helps prepare us for our next season and to step into it.

The Best Marriage

I became ordained to marry people in 2016 after being asked by two very close friends to officiate their wedding.  This involved clicking a few buttons on the internet to my surprise.  No test had to be passed, no blood samples, no religious interview, just a click and done.  I filed my "license" with the Secretary of State in West Virginia and suddenly I now had the responsibility of marrying people.

The first wedding I did was for two dear friends that John and I had introduced back in 2012 during the crazy derecho in Fayetteville.  We spent the weekend rafting the New, drinking very warm PBR and eating brats over a charcoal grill.  It was a natural disaster that somehow brought these two wonderful individuals together, and years later here I was standing with them overlooking the beautiful West Virginia mountains talking to them about how I feel about marriage among their family and friends.  I wore John's wedding ring around my neck that day as a reminder to myself and my dear friends that he was there.

After losing my first husband, I remember feeling that I never wanted to attend another wedding again.  The thought of sitting through the joy of two individuals alive, breathing and well, getting to come together in marriage simply pained me.  I had become morbid and doubtful over the thought of a "long life" together because I felt stripped of this experience.  Why should others get this opportunity when mine was gone.  My ego at the time was in the driver seat and I wanted the world there with me.  These feelings controlled me for a while. 

When Nick and Meghan asked me to marry them, I spent a quiet evening alone on my front porch thinking for hours about what I would say to two individuals that are making this decision to come together.  It had been over a year since losing John.  I thought a lot about how I felt when I married him, the things that never crossed my mind on my wedding day.  We went through the generic vows, never really put any thought into what they meant, and it was over in a matter of minutes, and the party began.  As I found myself now responsible for the ceremony of two people that John and I had both adored,  I went back in time.  I went back to his death.  I remembered the pure explosion I felt on March 9th, the outer body experience that seemed to follow within moments and the panic I had over the conversations, the laughter, even the generic vows I would never get to say to him again.

I don't think I truly understood what marriage meant to me until I lost my marriage.  It took a few years of solitude, of sitting with myself,  to come to grips with what it really meant when I married John.  My biggest regret is knowing that I never got to share this new understanding and appreciation for this union with him.  Yet, through this awakening; through the days, months, and years of silence; through facing that regret and anger and reflection, I met a man that would become my second husband, and my heart grew and grew and exploded with a joy that I thought was dead.

 I recently completed my second wedding for two of my best friends here in Fayetteville, Scott and Sherry. I had the privilege of knowing both of them as individuals and as a couple for the last three years, and it truly brought me joy to write a ceremony for them.  I took many of the things I had said to Nick and Meghan in 2016, along with the continued experience of loss and new love to write something that I felt would impact them in a way where they would not forget.  I wanted them to feel that they could always go back in time, and revisit this moment between the two of them throughout life together.

So, after the experience of two great loves, two incredible joys, and a heart that learned to grow and expand and accept the pain as a part of my individual self,  here is what I had to say to my dear friends about their decision to come together on their wedding day: 

" I believe that the best marriages occur when two people recognize that love for one’s self, and love for our individual purpose in this world, is what leads to deep incredible love for our partner.  Our time here is temporary, so the choice to stay present with one another, and respecting each other’s individual purpose in this world brings out the kind of partnership that stands strong forever.  You both are going to change as the years go by, in fact you can plan on it, so choose to change together.  As you make this commitment to each other today, choose each other not only because of who you currently are, but also because of who you are both determined to become, and spend a life time joining each other in your becoming. By doing this, you will bring out the best version of yourselves for one another,  and therefore your purpose in this world is served.

I want you both to know that choosing self-love first is not selfish or unkind.  Love for who you are as individuals in this marriage will allow you to give endless love to each other.  The strength in one’s self brings out a true partnership, not co-dependence. Self-love is knowing that you can stand on your own feet no matter what life brings you.  As you choose each other today, be confident and stand strong in the belief that your love for each other goes well beyond your flesh, it outweighs our physical presence in this world.   Mother Theresa once said, 'Death is nothing else but going home to God, the bond of love will be unbroken for all eternity.'  This love is eternal and will be with you always.  This love becomes a part of your individual self today, it is now infused into your soul.  So love yourself always, so you can give the greatest love to each other.

Not only is marriage about knowing yourself, and loving yourself.  It is also an act of working together to keep your flame alive and burning in the many years to come.  There are three flames I want you both to reflect on every day as individuals and as partners in your marriage.  These three flames form the trinity of love and create a balanced life together.

The first flame is called 'Raya.'  Raya represents the incredible friendship you two have with one another.   C.S. Lewis once said, 'It is when two such persons discover one another, when, whether with immense difficulties and semi-articulate fumblings or with what would seem to us amazing and elliptical speed, they share their vision - it is then that Friendship is born.  And instantly they stand together in an immense solitude.'   The base of a marriage starts with a deep friendship that only grows over time.  Always remember the friendship that brought you two together.  Have a great time together, belly laugh until you ache.  We all hope you two spend a life time of laughter together.

The second flame is called 'Ahava.'  Ahava  represents deep affection and commitment.  This is a desire for one another that feels like a deep explosion in your chest.  It feels like a magnetic pull within your heart,  you simply can’t resist it.  It is a love that is much more profound than fleeting romantic feelings.  Ahava gives you the ability to really see each other’s hearts, to connect to one another without words or gestures, the ability to feel both joy and pain within each other and to respond to that.   It is a desire that is so strong that it leads people to join their lives together.  You both are here in this moment right now because of Ahava.  Ahava is what makes love last through the toughest times.  Marriage will not take away your loneliness.  To be a human being in this world is to be lonely.  So share your humanity together, and lean hard into the flame of Ahava,  and create moments throughout your life together where that loneliness dissipates.   Ahava represents love as a choice.  Every day, your marriage is a choice.

The third flame is called 'Dod.'  Dod represents the passion between you two.  Complete intimacy and magnetic attraction between two people.  This attraction can almost feel electric, as if you are functioning at a higher vibration, it is spiritual.  You fit perfectly with this person.  It is so hard in today's world to maintain interest in one thing, or one person anymore.  We live in a world of instant gratification.  Focusing on something, and returning our attention to it over and over when we become distracted is truly an art.  My hope for you both is that you will make your life a meditation upon each other, for that is a profound act, and absolutely essential in keeping the Dod flame alive.

I want to encourage both of you to always review these three flames, check-in with each other every day to see if these flames are balanced, work together to keep them burning throughout your shared life.  Always remember, if one flame burns out, you can always relight it."

I am so happy for my friends that have found each other in this crazy world.  It is fun to watch both couples spend life together and see them bring out the best version of themselves for each other.

I am so incredibly overwhelmed and grateful to God to experience marriage again with Tristan.  It is going to be an honor and a privilege to stand among our family and friends this weekend and give this promise to each other, to God, to ourselves.  I will forever be so thankful and go back in time to the joy I experienced in my marriage to John.  It feels as real today as it did years ago and I will lean into those memories for the rest of my life. 

Double restoration.  Expanded joy.  Pain that is a guiding torch for life.  Love that does not hold back, instead it explodes.  This is what it means to be human.  This is the best marriage.