Heading Home

I've only just settled in and it's time to head home. My tent is all packed up and bags are packed. Even though it's been plenty long enough for me to be away from my family it's barely enough time to get into the groove of work and friendship up here at camp. Just now I feel myself relax and be part of the community here.  It's like my personality is peeking out from behind a curtain. The anxiety and stress of  day to day life is on a back burner for a while and I'm able to just be myself.  What a wonderful feeling!

How about I take that home with me. It'll be my gift to my friends and family back home.  I'll bring back Kate as she is, without the wet blanket of crazy anxiety that I usually drag around like a mourning veil.

Last night as the rain pelted my tent I couldn't help but smile. My trusty old (22 years old) tent kept me cozy and dry and I was just so happy to be snug. This place brings out an intense love in me. Love for people, love for nature, love for science, and incredible inspiration to create.

I'll take that gift home too.

Gratitude for my time here is ever present. I feel it down into the core of my being and it warms me like a white hot ember. Taking some time away and returning to my innermost interests and passions has been like medicine for me. At home are the people I love most in the world and some pretty big decisions that have to be made but I feel up to the task. All of a sudden there seems to be nothing but possibility at every angle and turn!

I'm going to bed and on my way I'll breathe that amazing arctic air and let the magic into my body and soul.

View from my tent before the rain came.

I'm Back

After all of these years I'm back at Toolik Lake Field Station.   I'm at the top of the world north of the Arctic Circle doing research with a friend.  It doesn't get better than this in my world. It's a wonder to go back to a place 20 years later. Toolik Field Station and the power of the surrounding landscape brought a definition to my self at 22 that I pulled in and used as a foundation for much of my life.  It's special to me and never far from my heart.

I started a process way back last August. This blog was part of a declaration of intention to heal and document my path. Even though I haven't documented much I have stayed committed to healing.  It took more energy than I thought it would but I've stayed the course. And here I am. Is it coincidence or part of that intention I threw out there 10 months ago that brought me here today?

I'll write more later.  For now I'm back and I'm happy and grateful to be here.

Burying a Dog

On Saturday morning we buried our beloved Lucky Dog.  We had had a rough night with almost no sleep  It was one of those nights that turns surreal in a matter of minutes. From taking the dog in to be checked out (knowing something was dramatically wrong) to going back home to drag the children out of bed to say goodbye to him.

Saturday was a beautiful day.  Jason dug a nice hole and carefully placed Lucky's body at the bottom.  We were all there feeling those unique feelings of grief that pull you apart and make everything seem to go in slow motion.  Loss brings up so many feelings from the past.   This was our first since the fire and Bobbi, Abby and Savannah were right there, present in our hearts and minds.

I took the boys back over to our house and Jason finished burying Lucky.  How fortunate I felt to have him take such beautiful care of our pet.  We complimented and helped one another through the difficult decisions and actions that had to happen.  I am so grateful for my husband and admire his dedication to showing the boys how much he loved Lucky and that he would take care of him to the very last minute.

The afternoon and into the evening was spent with friends; the best of friends who were able to let us all be sad and yet hold us up as well.  They knew full well that we were overwhelmed with grief for our dog and grief for our family, crying tears that have needed to come out for a year and a half.

Sunday I lit a fire in our living room fireplace.  I pulled the boys in and we did homework and made halloween costumes all day.  We were all sad but took comfort in one another.  Even in his death our little dog did what he always did, he brought us together, he softened our hearts and he brought peace.

Today

Today is Jason and my eighteenth wedding anniversary.
In that time we've had tremendous joy, grief, and adventure.
I'd share this life with no one but my Jason.
Today we have one another and I am grateful.

Why did I get up?

I woke up this morning with the familiar feeling of an oncoming migraine.  All I wanted to do was call my one Pilates client and cancel. But I didn't.  I got up, showered, and drove to the studio in the dark of the pre-dawn morning.  On the way I stopped to get my coffee which was waiting for me on the counter when I walked into the shop.  My sweet barista knows my car and my order and had it ready and waiting before I even walk in the door.  How grateful I was with my newly hatching headache to have a cup of hot strong coffee in my hands.  When I came out of the shop I stood spellbound by pink clouds streaked across the sky, gold shining off the ripples facing the rising sun.  It only lasted a few minutes but it stopped me in my tracks.  It felt like an invitation to live, the sky calling out to me to be today.  Breathe the crisp air, see the vibrant colors, hear the river running, and feel the autumn sun on my face.  Be alive.

My client overslept.  My migraine progressed.  I had meetings to go to.  Phone calls to make.  But I knew why I got up.  The day was dawning and I needed to see it.

The Road Home

Interstate 35 is a north–south Interstate Highway stretching from Duluth, Minnesota, to Laredo, Texas. When I lived in Duluth my boyfriend, now my husband, and I used to drive south on Interstate 35 to visit his family in New Ulm, Minnesota several times a year.  When driving through the twin cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul we would take 35W passing through Minneapolis.

Over the years we traveled home to New Ulm from the many different areas in the country where we've lived. 35W felt like home. Even though we are over an hour from home when we turn onto 35W the road has a familiarity that feels comfortable and brings up nostalgic feelings. 35W means we'll see friends and family very soon. We'll stop at Dairy Queen because we do every time. (We do this after we turn off of 35W but we can look forward to it as soon as we turn onto the highway.)

On July 2nd, 2011 we received a devastating phone call. The Bed and Breakfast owned by Jason's sister Bobbi had burned over night killing her, her two children and three guests of the B and B. News like this is incomprehensible when it comes and we went into shock. We had to figure out how to get ourselves, our three children and our nephew (the child of Jason's youngest sister) to Minnesota within 24 hours; that was the only thing in my mind. I barely remember how we managed it. We got everyone onto the plane. We sat in seats. We got off the plane. We were in a bubble with a mission: get to New Ulm.

As we pulled onto 35W the bubble of denial became fragile.The familiar road poked at the bubble that was protecting us from the horror we were about to walk into. When this kind of tragedy hits it's too large to comprehend. But as we approached New Ulm the reality of the situation started to intrude.  A sick feeling crept into the car and rode with us all the way home.

We arrived home. We grieved. We worried terribly about those left behind by this deadly fire. We wondered why. We buried our beloved family members. I tried endlessly to change reality by imagining all the ways in which it could have ended differently. I wished and prayed and played through all of the ways that everyone could have been saved. This thinking can easily drive you crazy, especially when all that was needed was a couple of minutes. A couple of minutes might have changed the outcome for six people. If I talk about this too much even know I can still make myself a bit crazy. Love was what got us through. It flowed to us from all areas of our lives. Friends both new and old came forward with words of comfort. Our family made it through together. They are so strong. I cannot describe the pain of losing a sister-in-law and two nieces.  Added to that was the pain of seeing my husband lose his sister and his nieces who he had just been cuddling (in the case of three-year-old Savannah) and teasing (in the case of 15-year-old Abby) two months previous.  To see my mother-in-law suffer the loss of her daughter and her grandchildren was and is one of the most heart wrenching experiences of my life.

After two weeks of being with our family we had to go home. As we drove to the airport I had the sense of the entire world being different. Nothing would ever be the same. The sun still comes up every day and the children have to eat and the dog needs a walk and it seems impossible that the sun can rise on a world where people can't get out in time. Where fire alarms go off and six people are still killed. The ride to the airport was quiet. My beloved farmland rolled by the car, the memories of trips made many years ago, and the sense of journey poked holes in my armor and I started feeling the intense pain and nostalgia that would haunt me for many months. That drive was the first step back into life. 

This is my road home. I'm driving myself toward the innermost desires of my heart, sometimes discerning what those are in the process. I will move toward family, friends, nature, creativity, connection with people, and opening up to the world. It is my journey shared. I do not intend this blog to catalog the fire and the following grief but this is where I must begin. The fire was a life-defining event and it is where I must begin. I was on a path and I got thrown out into the darkness. Now I must find my way.

This journey began on 35W, the road home.

The Page is No Longer Blank

Sometimes you just have to start. Write the first sentence, put down the first brush stroke, knit the first stitch. No point in thinking about it any longer. Just do it.