THE FIRST MORNING (JASON)

We all stayed the first night in my parents home. When I woke up, I desired to pray in a spot that I would escape to as a kid. It is a wide spot between a couple sagebrush hills with an irrigation ditch running through it which provides enough water for a little grass and willow trees. The water falls about 10 feet, and the sound has always been very relaxing to me.
After about a five minute walk, I arrived at the spot and sat down to think and pray. However, the peacefulness of the spot was disturbed by a calf that had recently died about 20 feet from were I sat down. I quickly determined that I could not stay here. I looked around and notice a tall hill that is located just behind my parents house and decided to climb it for the views and seclusion.
Upon arriving on the top of the hill, I took of my jacket, laid it on the ground and sat down on top of it. No sooner had I sat down, when instantly I heard this deep, loud, sad sound rise from what seemed like all around me. But, it was coming from me. It was like I was divided. One side of me was wailing and one side of me was hearing the wailing. The hearing side was shocked and tried to stop the wailing side, but the wailing side was too powerful. The tears eroded the divide and the two sides, the heart and mind, merged and cried deeply together as one.  After some time the wailing turned to sobs and whimpers.
I closed my eyes to pray and as I did, I could hear running horses. My dad's horses, which I had not yet seen, heard, like me, a strange sound and come running to investigate. Seeing me in a state of sorrow, they came to me to give comfort. The mare nibbled grass next to me, and I returned to prayer. With eyes closed, I prayed for peace to my soul. As I did so, the morning sun broke between the clouds. I could feel warmth on my face and see increased light. With diminished but remaining sadness, I opened my eyes to the view of the beauty of the Salmon River valley. I knew God would not reverse the terrible tragedy from the day before, I knew that my life had forever changed, but I knew all the same that God was and would be with me.

SATURDAYS ARE THE WORST (JENNIFER)

Saturdays are the worst.  Avery died on a Saturday and we buried her the next Saturday.  My body instinctively knows Saturday is coming.  Each Friday night, I struggle to sleep.  Each Saturday, I awake early with the thought I have each morning, ‘Avery is gone’.I try to focus on the Friday nights.  

Jason, Becca, and Avery left Thursday morning for our annual Memorial Day campout.  They were able to spend some time with the Jason’s parents before heading to Lick Creek to set up camp.  Raygan, Amelia and I wrapped up work, school, and chores and left Thursday night.  We stayed at my parent’s home with Daniel and Jill and their family.

Friday morning, we headed to Idaho Falls to pick up the RV my sister Emily and her daughters would be spending the weekend in.  Raygan and I listened attentively as Frenchie explained the dos and don’ts of caring for the RV as well as the driving lesson.  I honestly thought that driving the RV from Idaho Falls to Lick Creek would be the most stressful part of my weekend.  We felt a sense of accomplishment as we navigated the roads, filled the water tank, and pulled into the beautiful meadow where we have camped each Memorial Day Weekend for the last 21 years.

Parking was limited.  I was so excited to see such a wonderful turnout.  Aunts, uncles, and cousins galore!  My interaction with Avery on Friday was a bit limited.  She had been counting down the days until the campout for weeks.  She had packed her bags a week before the trip.  She was organized and methodical in her planning.  Avery remembered the years it was cold and wet and was so thankful Raygan ordered her a new pair of pink glittered rain boots for the trip when she realized her sister’s hand me downs didn’t fit.  Avery remembered the years of playing with her cousins and packed her American Girl dolls and all the supplies they would need.  This included a customized car seat for two lovingly crafted from a shoe box, ribbon, and hot glue which Avery designed and completed on her own.

During the previous week when Avery had been meticulously planning the trip and the adventures which awaited, I was praying for sunshine.  The forecast noted a weekend of rain.  I was concerned Avery would spend the majority of the trip in our tiny pop up trailer unable to play the way she planned.  Upon my arrival, she informed me, “I brought warm clothes because you said it might be cold.  The sun has been shining all day!  I’m starting to get hot.”  She then pulled up her sleeves and headed off to play.  Throughout the day, she picked wildflowers and practiced skits for the annual talent show with her cousins.  Avery was determined to play a game of partner tag.  Feeling a bit wiped out from the travel, I sat on the sidelines and cheered on the games.  I hate the fact I didn’t play.

 We checked in at dinner time where we engaged in our typical “please eat at least five bites of real food before you spend the rest of the evening eating s’mores and candy routine”.  As the evening progressed, the sky became dark and the campfire burned bright.  Avery came and sat by me.  When it started to drizzle, I asked if she was game to head to bed.  Much to my surprise she agreed.  She was tired.  Avery had been concerned about the sleeping arrangements for weeks.  As the youngest and the smallest, she was usually squished into a spot with others.  Avery was also keenly aware of her role as the early riser in a camper full of teenaged sisters.

Jason was determined to sleep in his backpacking tent.  This left the big bed for Avery and me. She wanted to sleep on the edge of the bed closer to the door because, “it will be easier to get up quietly and get out of the camper without having to crawl over someone”.  We cuddled up and fell asleep.  Somehow during the night, she worked her way out of our two person sleeping bag, and was cold.  She woke me up in hopes I would start the heater.  Upon realizing why she was cold, I pulled her back into the sleeping bag next to me and proceeded to cuddle her rubbing her arms and legs until they were warm again.  We were able to get some more sleep.  Just as she knew she would, she awakened before anyone else.  It was Saturday morning, she smiled at me as she silently slipped out of bed.  Avery then dressed as quietly as she could and headed out the door.  Avery remembered that the early risers usually got hot chocolate and some extra time with a grandparent before everyone else got up.  I stayed in bed and read a book from the library, one of my favorite activities during the quiet camping hours.  I was reading, Courage to Be You by Gail Miller and Jason Wright. 

It was Grandma Nan and Papa Tom’s turn to make breakfast.  We ate pancakes, Avery’s favorite.  She quickly ate with her cousins.  While I ate slowly and visited with my siblings.  Andrew mentioned how nice it was to have the nieces push his son Oliver in the stroller.  Avery met me in the breakfast line where she was grabbing one more piece of bacon, her second favorite, and I was getting another pancake.  She asked if she and her cousins could walk up to the ‘first witch’s house’, a well-known and routinely visited abandoned cabin not far from camp.  I gave her permission and then asked her to save a little energy so she could take a turn pushing Ollie in the stroller.  Avery gave me her typical look, the look she gave me when she had big plans i.e.: crafting, watching TV, drawing, playing with her dolls etc. and I asked her to do something not on her agenda i.e.:  comb her hair, brush her teeth, clean up her stuff etc.  Not wanting to rain on her parade, I told her to go and have fun with her cousins.  Not wanting to disappoint me she told me she loved me and would be back soon. That was it.  That was the last conversation we had.  A beautiful Saturday morning that turned to tragedy.

THE FIRST COUPLE HOURS (Jason)

When I heard the EMT receive word  to end CPR, I went numb. The next task was to get Avery's body to the road. The EMT offered to send for a stretcher, but I felt a desire to get her there myself. So, I picked up my beautiful girl and started up the steep, rocky mountain. To keep from tipping over backwards, my brothers-in-law, Andrew and Dane, keep their hands in the middle of my back and shoulders. As badly as I wanted to do this task alone, I wasn't able. I laid her down an a blanket and four of us took her to the top.

When I we got there, men were crying and hugging for support. I noticed them look into my face, seemingly stunned that I was not more emotional. But, my head knew what had happened, but had not sent the message to my heart. I was stunned, numb and trying to convince myself that this was just the worst nightmare ever.

The quiet of the mountain was broke by the anguished cry of Raygan (my oldest daughter). I went to her as quickly as I could and held her in my arms. I heard her cries and felt her body trembling and all the while I remained numb. We determined to get back to came and found a ride down the mountain, but I couldn't leave my little Avery there with the EMTs and police officers, all strangers to her. I was stuck choosing which daughter to accompany. In hindsight, I realize that it was irrational to stay with Avery when Raygan needed me. When I saw Tom (my Father-in-Law), I discussed with him my dilemma. He agreed to stay with Avery.

Raygan and I were ready to get back to camp. My assumption was that the news would have already made its way back the waiting family member, but Raygan knew better. She cried that "Mom is going to be so sad." When I got to camp and saw my beautiful families questioning face, I knew they didn't know. All I could do is shake my head to the unasked question, "Is Avery OK?"

The expressions of sudden despair manifested in each surviving family member was sincere, varied and heartbreaking. Amelia (my second daughter) collapsed. Becca ran to the middle of mountain meadow in which were camping and screamed and screamed. Jennifer cried and hugged.

No sooner had we gained some semblance of composure, one of the officers came for my brother-in-law Daniel. After a short departure from camp, he returned to inform us that his daughter Lydia had also passed. When I last saw her, I was certain that once she got to the ambulance they would receive the help she needed. However, in the harrowing events surrounding the work on Avery, I had missed that Lydia passed away there on the mountain together with Avery.

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.