Reflections on Saturdays gathering

I must admit that Saturday morning came suddenly for me, as I was driving to the hall and I had a panicky feeling about speaking at the service. I took a few breaths, realized that I probably had too much to say and it would be about hitting a few main points. I also knew that I had another chance to talk on Sunday. As I spoke about before, I knew that I needed to just focus on one task at a time. My first self defined role was to meet people as they arrived.

The first "oh shit" moment was that I had promised Emilee that Baxter would never be left alone. It was a total oversight that during the service, everyone would be at the service. I quickly texted Em, and I asked Allison to tag her off, so she could come to the service. I also thought about who I could ask, to tag Allison off, as I knew that I wanted her to be at my side. When I saw my friend Erik, I knew that I could ask him. I also asked my friend Dave, so that Erik wouldn't have to do it alone. (I actually predicted that he would probably had preferred being alone, but I wanted to employ the buddy system)
Crisis averted, check.

Once the service had started, I recognized that I had too much energy to sit down. (I also had to tweak my speech). I pushed myself past the people crammed into entry way. I then moved to the front of the hall, along the side wall. I noticed that there was almost a full row and a half in the front of free seats. I scanned the room and looked for people that I could seat in these spots. I was reminded of the story that Jesus spoke about in Luke chapter 14. Many people were careful not to sit too close, especially in the front two rows, they needed to be given permission to sit closer. I was able to move around the room and ask people to sit in the front. I felt so blessed to be able to honour these friends. (I also know that I missed out on a few people, and for that I am sorry, you know who you are … ) I also heard that my friend Anne Marie had arrived late, and had been pushing people out of the hallway and into the room (not unlike they do in Japan on the subway) and making sure that everyone could hear the service.

I would like to put a bit of an aside at this point. Some people had made the inference that Saturday's service was Tam's and Sundays was Brent's. For me nothing was farther from the truth. Saturday contained the consensus decisions from both of us. I knew that because I had such a large network, this venue would be too small. I was pleased that this hall was full to overflowing and my goal in planning Sunday's event was that everyone would be invited to this service as well, knowing that for some they would be too exhausted and Saturday would serve their needs. I also knew that during the planning phase, I didn't want to sacrifice my "have to's" and as soon as we had agreed to two services, we could replace the word "or" with "and". So yes maybe Sunday was a bit of an overflow of ideas, but I will discuss this at my next post.

Baxter comes home

Up until this year, September 11th had a very different meaning. Many of you know I had gone to New York a month after this day in 2001to respond to that crisis. This year I was in charge of coordinating a response to a very different crisis, one much more intimate and personal. One would assume that I felt an overwhelming responsibility to ensure that everything was just right, as this would be the start of the weekend vigil and home viewing. The reality of the situation was very different, I was no longer alone in my responsibility. I had started as being the one in charge, but on this day my shoulders were light. So many people had stepped up to the plate and responded to the principle; "see one, do one, teach one".

Noah and Emilee loaded the box into the truck. All I had to do is give directions to the loading ramp in the back door of the hospital. At Adam's house, I had suggested to Emilee to take charge of the last step of the journey. I had thrown out a few suggestions, however, the decisions were hers to make as to what the day would look like.  When we gathered, Lauren said a prayer, and then it happened ...  Emilee told me that I could go, I wasn't needed at this point. She was going to choreograph the final journey. Erik and Brian had just arrived from Salmon Arm and I was able to have an enjoyable sit down meal with them.

I met up with the entourage later in the day at the cabin where we set the final details in place for the cabin to be ready for guests. Again I had delegated most of the tangible tasks and continued with the role of consultant. Lauren set the stage and created a welcoming ceremony in the cabin and I was able to sit back and fill my heart with the warmth and connection as I witnessed Baxter's community joining with the commonground community.

It is not coincidental that this post is written today. It has only been recently that I have reconnected with my boys.  I recognize that each of them has their own unique journey and it is not my job to micromanage the process for them. I have to be careful not to mix up my own desire to stay connected with my boys and give them space to find their own way. The last thing that I want to communicate to them is that they need to take on some of my burden. I have been missing them, for sure the last few weeks but I know that they have a community of support and some times it is not just about me. I will continue to invite them along for the ride as we navigate the difficult days. November 20th, Baxter's birthday is the next one that is coming up soon.

Fixing Baxter's brokennes

One of my first reactions, when I heard the news, is that my boy needs to come home. When Cam and I showed up at the medical examiners office to pick him up, all I could do at this point was take a quick glimpse of him. I had to confirm it was him I was bringing home. I had this image of opening the bag in Prince George and seeing some wrinkly old man. After I got him home, I knew that his arm needed to be fixed for the weekend viewing. I also was curious about how his lower body looked, but I actually zoned out when the medical examiner explained to me his lower body injuries. At some point I thought that I just needed to deal with his arm. I thought about all sorts of splints and first aid remedies, however, this did not seem to be right. I then remembered that my family Dr. and his wife had both said, "whatever we could do to help." I messaged them and they agreed to meet me in the morgue. I assembled the rest of my team and asked Emilee if she wanted to join, she was anxious to see Baxter.

After Steven and Leigh (my doctor friends) were casting his arm, Steven explained to me other injuries. I initially thought that we would just do a waist up viewing but as I tried to sleep that night I realized that I needed to at least try to fix Baxter's brokenness. I was also profoundly impacted by the fact that I was not going to be doing this alone, I had a team behind me (and at some points Emilee was in front of me leading the way).

I think it is important to tell you a little bit about my personal support team. My supervisor Linda was the first one to step up to plate. You see there had to be a hospital employee present when the morgue was being used and although I worked at the hospital, I was there as a family member. Usually the person who would be present would be the QRP social worker, that would be me, if I was working. The other person who was an obvious choice was the hospital chaplain and my friend Lauren. She had been brought up in the traditions of old and she was familiar with the tangible tasks that needed to be performed. The other important role that she filled was bringing a spiritual presence to the space.

I don't feel it is appropriate to share the details of fixing Baxter, but for me I listened to my intuitive wisdom and as I suggested before, I had gained tools and experiences from working with other families in similar circumstances. I knew that I needed to focus on healing, and shift my mind and my senses off the injuries and focus on the specific tasks. We also took our time and talked through each step of the process and discussed each situation as it came up.

It is hard to explain to someone who just sees the trauma of the situation, why it was so important for me to be the one to put Baxter back together. I have spoken with Emilee several times about this and she shared the same perspective. We both agree in hindsight, "why wouldn't one chose to be part of this process, it was both an honor and an obvious choice and we feel the peace that followed this process". The images that stick in my mind about those three days, was his tattoes, placing my hand on his chest, holding his hand, and kissing his forehead. I also have a warmth in my heart, and peace in my soul when I utter the words, "He is no longer broken, but whole". He is ready to experience his final send off with his friends and family. It wasn't kings horses and men Baxter needed ...

Baxter was like a Kite : Understanding gender differences in the grief process

During this journey the last few weeks, I have been seriously reflecting my own experience and curious about the factors that have created disparity between my own observations and others around me. It is important to know that Baxter's mother and I have not been together for over 5 years and I think that even if we were still together we would not be on the same page. Part of that is because we have very different  exposure to death, part of it is because we are very different people and the last part is our gender differences.  I have had the opportunity to work with a few couples who have lost a child and it is generally very challenging to deal with the disparities between the styles of grieving. Much of the counsellors role within situations like this is to validate both individuals perspective, and encourage them to extend some empathy towards their partner (if this is not possible, encourage them to at least reserve judgement). Let me share with you a story that brings this idea home. I remember working with an older couple who experienced the death of a baby. When I met them, the mom was expressive and overwhelmed. The husband appeared to be overwhelmed and shut down. You see, the mom had experienced a tangible connection for many weeks, the initial experience of morning sickness was a positive connection, feeling the baby move was much more tangible and gratifying. When the baby died the medical staff  placed  it gently in a shoe box, that was meticulously adorned with ribbons and decorations with a tiny quilt . I engaged with the father that he may experience an active role within the trauma. Suddenly he got an idea, he disappeared into his workshop and a couple of days later, emerged with a small wooden box, that would provide protection for the baby and the beautifully decorated shoe box. At this moment there was a shift in the mom's perspective. She saw that her husband had made tangible connection of grief and was able to receive his gesture of care towards their baby. This is why we talk about the difference between instrumental grievers and emotional grievers.  With all this backstory I would like to share my reflection about my experience with the death of my 22 year old son.

My relationship with my son was like a kite. It would be nice to suggest that I held the spool, and he was anchored to me, however, I know that this is simply not true. Most of my memories this last few years were filled with glimpses of him flying. Snapshots of what he was doing and who he was with. There are very sweet memories when I suggested connection points and he flew into sight, dipped down into my life for a few precious moments, and then flew out of sight again. A few times I struggled with jealousy and I desired more time with him, however, I knew in my heart, this was selfish and he had many connection points in his life. There were also a chosen few that held the spool and could reel him in when he got away, or flew too high. My relationship was different and my job was to be grateful for the times he came into view and chose to play in my yard.

I guess that is why I felt so honoured that in the following weeks of Baxter's death, his friends allowed me into their circle. They shared stories and experiences in such a way that I could see Baxter's reflection. What an amazing gift they gave, and continue to give to me.

This picture was one of the last glimpses that he flew into my life. He had just come back to Prince George, and I was heading out for my annual motorcycle trip.

Rehab at the Rainbow

Let me tell you about my new favorite place. It is situated half way between Vernon and Kelowna, on okanagen lake. The property has been in Allison's family since the early 1900's. It is called the Rainbow ranche and was located at the Rainbow landing where the paddlewheel would stop to drop off mail and ranch hands, to work the property, which at the time stretched out for 640 acres. I can't even imagine what this property would be worth today, as it is covered in orchards and million dollar houses.

When I first visited the property, it was hard for me to not think of it as some hippie hideout. The entrace is somewhat obscured, you have to drive between a peach orchard, and when you see the address it is painted on a little wooden sign and is covered with rainbow colours. You cross a creek and the road winds beside a small 1 acre orchard of Ambrosia apples, which are the hybrid dwarf type suspended on a wire trellis. The Ambrosia apple is no ordinary apple, it is described by locals as the "apple of the god's", originally cultivated by the Mennell family of Simiikameen Valley who continue to own the patent rights for cultivation.

If you continue to wind down the driveway towards the lake you drive past some traditional red delicious apple trees, and a dying transparent apple tree and a few obscure plum and apricot trees. These trees are living tombstones demarcating the present from the past as you are portalled into an early 20th century homestead. The original house is flanked on either side by larger gable facing additions. The house was built to house 6 children, although only 3 came to fruition. Roger is the current owner, and his oldest daughter Allison is where I am connected.

Roger is a "retired anthropologist" who has many iron's in the fire, one of which is running the ambrosia orchard.  And when I use the word retired, it is not true, as he spends hours in the early morning and late into the night consulting and researching ways of "sticking it to the man" and assisting first nations individuals and communities in self advocacy and economic development. Of course he could only do this work with a healthy mind and body. He sleeps in a tent by the lake and jumps in every morning to wake up, although he assures me that November first he is moving back into the house. He has also reintroduced me to the idea of the power of a high vegetable diet and meat in small portions (and mostly buffalo I would add) Getting back to the apples, they are currently being harvested by 4-6 pickers who have a unique connection to the Ranche. Roger was heading out to sell a trailer load of apples to some friends at 150 mile house, so I was placed in charge of running the orchard while he was absent. The self proclaimed title of orchard manager was entirely symbolic and fictious as I had less experience than even the rookie pickers who had started a week before.

The responsibility however allowed me to focus my attention and energy and at the end of the day gave me a sense of accomplishment as boxes were piled high in the two root cellars. While I recognize that my brain is pretty much useless at doing my previous crisis work, tapping into my farming roots and uncovering some of these hardworking routines was a Godsend. Apparently I also had a grin from ear to ear as I drove the tractor delivering empty bins, and taking full boxes down to the shop. We also had a little hair raising experience of loading 10 full bins into a flat deck trailer, with a tractor that only had a three point hitch and the ability to lift about 18 inches. It didn't have the power to to back up the ramps of the trailer, so I suggested we use the newly built access road for the barn.

During this time the footings were also being poured for the barn that is currently being built to process the apples. I think Roger may be the only one in the valley who has designed his barn to hold his 4000 books, that are currently being stored in a shipping container. I had the opportunity of sitting in on some of discussions and throwing in my 2 cents worth.

The last project that Roger was happy to delegate to me, was the official poop roof. The old septic tank's wooden covering had given up the ghost. The initial plan was to replace with treated lumber, however, I thought since there was cement being poured on the property we could create a proper cement cap. I happily dug out the old boards and formed up the new lid, all the while judging if people had eaten their daily required amount of ruffage. (who knew that I could put my book, "what your poop is telling you" to good use on this trip ...

Bike trip continued

As I continued my trip, I eventually got into a rhythm. I scattered a few ashes and reflected on good memories that I had with Baxter. Most of the time I was on the bicycle, however, little meditation or contemplation was possible. It turns out that I covered about 28 km my first day, at which time it was raining and getting dark. I stopped at Mosquito Creek for the night.

The next day Allison and Jackson were there to help me out. We drove back to Lake Louise in order to grab the car. In the morning it was pouring rain, and I had little motivation to ride my bike in that weather. We had coffee and went for a walk down by Bow River, where we scattered more cremains, and gathered rocks.

I had come to the conclusion that wherever I scattered some cremains, I would take an object and replace it. Then at the end of scattering all the ashes, I would have memories and sacred objects to hold onto. I also decided to pick up a map of the park and mark all the spots where I would leave a pinch of baxter. It was during this day that Jackson asked to see Baxter. We had been very open with him about what I was doing and he had some questions. He didn't think much of the plastic bag of cremains, but he did like gathering rocks and little sticks to place back in the plastic box.

By the afternoon, I felt ready to do some more peddling. I decided to set up camp at silverhorn , even though they were closed for the season. I found a little offshoot of a road and a spot to camp. We left the one car there, and then Allison dropped me off at Bow Lake. The rain seemed to slow, while I tried to put the front wheel back on my bike. I will have to read the owners manual of how to do this properly because it seemed like a significant hassle with the disk brakes. Allison followed me for a few kilometres, and then I waved her on as she had to get all the way back to PG that night.

The hills didn't seem as difficult today, although I think they were just as steep. The rain and temperature didn't help though. I took the turnoff to the top of bow summit to see the glacier. The ground was covered in snow, and there was no one in sight. Then when I got to speed down hill, I thought my hands would freeze solid. I couldn't even enjoy the gift of gravity.

By the time I got to my campsite, I decided to just strip out of my soaking clothes and stay in the heated car. No guilt felt about idling for hours, I was just happy to warm up. It was supposed to get to close to freezing that night, so I knew that I needed to be warm and dry if I was going to stay warm in the tent.

Bicycle trip

I have to admit that I was feeling a bit manic after the busyness of the funeral arrangements had subsided. I knew instinctively that I needed to channel this energy. One of the methods was to plan a bicycle trip, although the timing and the mode was more inspired by "coincidence".

You see, and I apologize if I have told this story before, I had gone to church the Sunday after I learned of Baxter's death. After the service, I was surrounded by a few of my Westwood peeps, and someone handed me an church envelope. I tucked it into my pocket without thinking (to be truthful, my brain was mostly offline during this time). I was at the hardware store a while later and I pulled the envelope out, thinking there may be a few bucks in it, and I realized that someone had gifted me $1000.

During our roadtrip, I passed on $100 to River and Noah with the expectation that they spend it on mourning Baxter's death. That left $800. On with the story George …

After we had picked up Baxter we were passing through Canmore. Noah had connected with Matt Neumann and he had suggested we stop there for supper on our way through. He provided us with some donair's and advised that he was thinking of biking to the scene of the accident and back in one day. That planted the seed, because I had been thinking of getting a bicycle this last year. I have a bum knee and have been trying to figure out how to naturally rehab my knee. Riding a bicycle seems to be an obvious choice, especially since I am not a big fan of scabs and bandaids (ie public swimming).

I was about 50 km south of Lake Louise when the thought of the roof box coming ajar hit me like a ton of bricks. I slowed down and realized that I needed to get additional straps for the box. I pulled into Lake Louise and went to the outdoor store. The first thing that caught my attention was a frisbee disk. I knew that I needed to pick it up so we could play at the scene on our way through. I picked up a couple of straps and was about to leave, when the clerk told me that they were clearing out their rental bicycles at the end of the season. The cost was to be $800 for these high end bikes. The only caveat was that the bikes were not for sale until September 15th. This meant I would have to return to Lake Louise in a week and a half. I put my name on the list for people who were interested.

I returned Lake Louise on the 18th. I ended up camping at the scene of the accident. I pitched my tent up in the bushes away from direct eye sight of the road. It was a very peaceful night, the stars were out and there was a little rain shower in the middle of the night but it was nice to sleep close. I was reminded of tenting in Bella Coola, when Bax and I were on our motorcycle trip. We were camped by the bella coola river and could hear the roar of the movement and bears less than 100 feet away from the campsite. It was actually in this spot that I came up with some of the design ideas for my grandmother's box. The idea of the bears so close to me seems like a romantic notion now, but at the time I was very nervous and couldn't sleep well.

I ended up having to go to Calgary again because of the hassle of applying for a death certificate for Baxter out of province. I had decided to go into the office and order it in person. The little wooden box for the bike trailer wasn't totally finished and I had to mount the rear rack on the new bicycle.

This ended up taking over 3 hours to complete in Lake Louise and I didn't set out on my trip until about 3pm. The other thing I hadn't totally taking into consideration is the crazy uphill climb out of Lake Louise. As I peddled like frantic, just to get out of town, I had this panicy feeling that I wasn't going to make it very far that first day. The idea of peddling all the way to saskatchewan crossing dissipated in my first hour of biking. I had created this notion that I would have time to meditate on nature, reflect on memories of Baxter while I was experiencing the idyllic scenery of the rockies. In reality I couldn't think of anything beyond my aching butt, and determining the best gear to be in as I struggled up the hills. Oh ya, and the fleeting thought of I HATE YOU MATT NEUMANN !!! crossed my mind a few times.

Tyler … take two

So apparently you are not supposed to cremate glass …
It sticks to the fire brick in the oven …
It also creates beautiful art …

I gave Tyler his bottle back …
He and I went for a walk down to the River.
At one point, he stopped and stated, you are not taking me down
to the place where I nearly drowned … apparently I was …

and I didn't even think about the significance of this location for him
We talked and I shared his story about cremating the bottle
and finding it almost intact with the lid melted into the glass pile

I told Tyler he had been given a gift …
The ability to speak in the shadow of death
"I shall not fear evil" recognizing the presence of those around
and for many the power of the creator, a life force

I walked away profoundly impacted by this person,
I thought I barely knew
and yet, I knew intimately
I had walked with him during his shadow of death
and now he walked with me
during Baxter's final journey

THANK YOU TYLER FOR YOUR PRESENCE ...