Things That Change... Or Don't
It’s funny how you can feel fully healed and completely broken at the same time. How some things can seem so far behind you and still be ever present, right in your face.
This spring has been dichotomies and oxymorons and a roller coaster of events and soul-churning emotion. Some of the best moments of my life have been built like layers of a sandwich along with some of the worst pain and most intense fear and most numb resignation…. there have been days that I couldn’t even fit that sandwich in my mouth, let alone swallow. (Dirty minds, I see you)
In February, I visited Scandinavia for the first time and it may have been one of my favorite escapades ever. I spent time with family and old friends and I made new friends. I lost someone that I was once very close to in one of the most unjust and unnecessary ways imaginable in March. I jumped out of a C-47 and rode a round canopy to the ground with my cousin and lifelong adventure buddy a few days after that loss. I golfed. A lot. I ate too much and I drank plenty. I went to baseball games and hockey games and Futbol games and met amazing people and saw things I never even knew existed. The world’s longest tunnel. The oldest Stave Church. The Red Sox bull pen. The VIP lounge at a Golden Knights game. I got tattoos, I sat in classes, I sat in casinos, I sat on beaches, I sat in churches. I screamed in rage until I could laugh at myself. I laughed until I cried, I cried until I slept and I slept until I woke up to the morning sunshine and the love of friends, both here and gone, that told me we were all ok.
The combination of grief and fear (I am paralyzed by heights) and excitement and anger and ecstasy and overcoming all played into several weeks of emotional upheaval and the strangest night terrors I’ve ever experienced. I nearly drove my Best Friend away when I lost control a few times. But that’s the thing about Best Friends - they teach you what “unconditional” really means when you deserve it the very least. I have never been more grateful.
This spring I am learning that I am not nearly as self-aware or “fixed” as I thought I was. New cracks have opened up in my soul and some days they feel like gaping crevasses that will swallow me alive. Some days it feels like they’re repairable, with the help and support of the few who know. That’s the thing about healing I guess, it comes in stages and seasons. Sometimes old breaks start creaking and groaning when the weather changes. All you can do is slather on the salve of unconditional love and embrace the ache.
I haven’t been able to find the words to say anything about my friend Rich until now. Rich and I became close in the year that I left Marble, even though I had known him since he was a little boy. He was a philosopher. We shared books and thoughts and traded ideas. He was wise beyond his years, curious past what he was allowed and had just enough of a rebel streak that I couldn’t help but love him. In my brokenness at the time, I caused Richard pain when we had a significant falling out. We didn’t speak for many years, but about a decade ago we reconnected and after repairing the breach, we picked up where we left off, talking about things well beyond our depth and imagining a world we weren’t allowed to.
Rich died on March 23rd, a few days before his 41st birthday. He was shot by law enforcement when he drew a firearm and pointed it at them. This was after non-lethal compliance attempts had failed. Deputies were there to serve warrants on Rich based on interactions with his family in recent month since his younger brother Jesse died. Jesse’s death was a blow that none of us have recovered from, and justifiably, Rich held his parents in some part responsible for that loss. But as his parents hold power in the community at Marble and now even in Stevens County, when they filed charges for malicious mischief and trespassing, Rich became a criminal on his own property, in his own home. He was reported to law enforcement by a “neighbor” at Marble when he was visiting his daughter. That’s where they arrived to serve warrants. Rich knew there would be no justice. Just as Jesse knew. Just as I know. He knew going to jail only put him more at the mercy of evil and manipulative leaders who would happily sacrifice him to avoid responsibility for the abuse they have inflicted for decades.
Richard’s death was his own responsibility. He made the choices he made. But I understand them. The rage I feel at the injustice of it feels unmanageable some days - at the risk to our local deputies, who did everything exactly by the book and whom I support without question. The anger at a twisted and warped community who refuse to accept the consequences of their failures comes in nauseating waves. Richard and Jesse are two lives lost. They aren’t the only ones. They won’t be the last.
One of the deputies called me to walk me through the details of what happened and it breaks my heart that any of them were in that situation. I can never express the depth of my gratitude to these men and women for doing their job well and truly and having the humility to reach out and help people like me understand the unfathomable.
Since Richard’s death, I have had dozens of people, old friends and total strangers, reach out to me with so many questions and thoughts and feelings… It’s like my old world rushing back into this new life I have tried to forge and reminding me that I will never fully escape. But I am starting to see the whole of my life as something less linear and compartmentalized and something more like a continual loop, or a timeless orb. When my Uncle Jim passed away last year I had an overwhelming sense of the connection of everything - a connection outside of our understanding of time and space in this three dimensional world. I feel more connected in some ways to Uncle Jim, and to Jesse, and now to Rich, than I was in real life when we lived so far apart. They are always with me now, laughing at my mistakes, kicking my ass in to motion when I am frozen in fear, and wrapping themselves around me when my heart aches for the lost possibilities and wasted hopes.
I sound like some new age hippy, and to be honest, I know it makes all of them proud.
I can’t believe the experiences I have had in the last few months. The ups and downs and the kaleidoscope of emotion that I’ve been living in have tongue tied me, but my words are coming back and I need to talk about the rage and the fear and the pain, because I know I am not alone.
I am here, if you feel alone. I don’t have any good answers but I do have hope. I do know almost everything is survivable - injustice and betrayal and broken hearts - but we do need each other. I carry the love in my heart for all of you that is amplified by the big hearts in heaven who surround me now. Please reach out if you need to talk, or to sit quietly and hurt. I am proficient in both, as well as finding ways to laugh at this ridiculous life and the people therein.