My Journey; intersecting headwaters.

The headwaters of my journey begins way up in the mountains. You see within my role as a crisis response social worker and trauma therapist, I have been exposed to the tears of many, way up in these mountains. The tears have gathered together and formed into trickles, and these trickles have formed puddles which eventually made their way into tributaries. Not only do the tears contain the sorrow, but they also form a pattern of resiliency and strength that I have seen transformed from the sadness and struggle. My life perspective has been shaped by these stories and I have come to terms with the idea that life is precious, and there is no guarantee on this earth except the fact we all shall perish one day.

My river that I have chosen to call gratitude, has ebbed and flowed throughout my life. It started as a gentle meandering creek that flowed effortless within a prairie river valley. This creek then became a stream that flowed into a scenic forest, with few unpredictable turns and pitfalls up until 5 years ago. Since that time there has been sections of rapids and waterfalls, although from my perspective the flow has continued to be consistent and I have never lost sight of the natural energy and the experience of gratitude.  I had hoped that the river was going to have a significant section of calmness after I recovered from my house burning down in January of this year, and I started to experience stability within my personal relationships. I had just said to a friend recently that my rapids are starting to slow, and I look forward to meandering for a while … not so. On September 3^rd, there was a knock on my door at 12:25. I opened the door and saw an RCMP officer and two familiar faces of the victim services workers. I knew the visitor of death was upon me. I didn’t struggle with the disbelief, I just needed to know the who … I was curious about the name of the club that no one seeks membership of … the club I would like to rename, “shit happens”.

The words, Baxter Douglas Goerz, still ring in my ears. For a split second, I couldn’t remember if he was travelling to Calgary alone … I later learned he was going alone because he believed he was preparing himself for a mystical journey. He had purchased a ticket along with his beloved EM to travel to Cambodia on the 23^rd of Sept. This last road trip was part of his musical bucket list cross off tour. This was to be the third musical weekend he would attend this summer. His friends tell me that he was in a good place, if he was an athlete we might describe it as “the zone” or in the flow. He had enjoyed the last 3 weeks back in Prince George reconnecting with his peers after a 6 month hiatus being exposed to the culture of Fort Nelson. It is so easy to visit the questions, Why … I have heard the pitfalls of asking any questions that begin with this toxic word, instead I chose to think of the statement, NOW WHAT?

As many of you know I had built boxes for many families who had lost a loved one. Some of these lives were long and full and others were full of tragedy and trauma. I knew that the work of building a box, can guide the hands, and redirect the adrenalized energy into the creation of a vessel, a utilitarian container that was not only necessary but instrumental in telling Baxter’s story. I had learned in the past to do less, and allow others to utilize their skills and abilities. In this case it took me less than a couple of hours to engage the basic cuts. My first delegation was my kids and immediate family. I knew they could assist in drilling the tapered holes for the dowels and gluing and screwing the floor. Many hands make light work and less clamps were necessary with the hands available for assembly. My friend John let us use his porch, and my brother guided and directed my path when my brain turned to mush. I knew the basic box just needed to be strong enough to transport my son home from Calgary. I could finish it later, spend more time on the lid design and worry about the rough sanding and decoration later … My single focus was to bring my son home as soon as possible.