INTRODUCTION

I’m writing this blog in order to work my way through the grief I feel and the healing I long for. My hope is that I, as the writer, and you, as the reader, will find my writing beneficial.

I hope to compensate for my inability to be clever and poetic by focusing on open, honest and vulnerable dialogue.

First, let me say my personal knowledge about grief would never fill a child’s teacup. Nevertheless, grief has been an unwanted companion for much of my life. I do know that grief comes in many shades. My personal experience may not resonate with you, so I also plan to call on contributing writers who have unique perspectives about grief.

To begin, let me say I grew up on a  homestead outside of Salmon, ID — a ranch that had been in the family for more than a century. Salmon, at that time, was the supply town for several mines, the timber industry and surrounding ranches. Needless to say, a small town filled with hard-scrabble miners, lumberjacks and cowboys did not foster an environment of tenderness and vulnerability. Survival required mental, physical and emotional toughness. As a result, my family, until just recently, had never seen me cry or share tender feelings.

On that ranch, I lived miles from the kids in school. However, God blessed me with a brother, Justin. Due to the isolation and the hardships of ranching, we developed a strong friendship. He was easily my best friend. Justin married at age 18 and started a family. We both ended up at college in Pocatello, ID. In his second semester, doctors diagnosed him with Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma Type T at stage five. Over the next year, I watched the body of this former state power lifting champion slowly deteriorate while his sickness and pain increased. On May 7, 1992 he lost his fierce battle with cancer.

Five years later, I married my amazing wife Jennifer. Over the next 10 years, we were blessed with four loving, talented and beautiful daughters. They are the light and love of our life. We hoped for more children, but endured the heartache of two miscarriages. Admittedly, these losses were much harder on Jennifer. With time, we turned our full attention to our wonderful daughters. There were dance practises and recitals, school plays, parent teacher conferences and all the busy stuff parents do with their children. We took trips to Disneyland and Disney World, the Oregon Coast, Las Vegas and Utah’s amusement park, Lagoon. We attended family reunions in Boise, ID,  Hiese Hot Springs near Idaho Falls, ID and Lick Creek near Salmon, ID. This last location is the scene of my life’s biggest tragedy.

On May 26, 2018, at a family reunion, our 10 year old daughter, Avery, told us she and her cousins Lydia and Suzy planned to walk up to the “Witch’s Cabin”. The Witch’s Cabin is a dilapidated miner’s shack about a quarter mile from camp. For 21 years, the children attending the family reunion had been drawn to the place for childish adventure and flower picking.

Avery, Lydia and Suzy walked to the cabin and were nearly back to camp when Jennifer’s cousin and her (rumored) future fiancé asked them if they wanted to go for a ride on their Off-Road Vehicle. The young fiancé, by his own admission, drove the vehicle much too fast for the road conditions. The vehicle went off the road and down a steep embankment. All passengers were thrown from the vehicle. Sara, another young cousin, broke her shoulder, ribs and suffered a collapsed lung. When I got to the scene, Lydia was face down, but still alive. She eventually sat up and proclaimed she was going to die. Not long after her mother got to her, she slipped to the other side.

Avery, who I didn’t recognize at first, was unconscious and appeared to be dead. My brother-in-law, Dane, with EMT training, coached us all in an effort to resuscitate my beautiful baby girl. Avery never gained consciousness. She, too, lost her precious life on the side of that mountain.

With heartache greater than I am able to express, I write this blog.

There is an Ethiopian proverb that says, “When you pick up one end of a stick, you pick up the other.” Clearly, this blog will discuss the grief end of the stick, but I also intend to discuss the other end, joy.