I am learning that as you get older, many those who have been part of your life since your birth, join the great cloud of witnesses who go before and experience eternity. You grieve the loss — of their physical presence, their voice, hugs, conversations, and laughter. Grief comes in waves and at weird times. Sometimes a song will trigger a memory or you come across a photo or a note. And it’s a good thing to feel it. Not to minimize it, ya know? Like John Green said, “When someone else tries to minimize your pain, they are doing you a disservice. And when you try to minimize your own pain, you’re doing yourself a disservice. Don’t do that. The truth is that it hurts because it’s real. It hurts because it mattered. And that’s an important thing to acknowledge to yourself. But that doesn’t mean that it won’t end, that it won’t get better. Because it will.”
Last August, My uncle Roger and Aunt Susan stopped by to visit and stayed out on the grounds at The Camp. I hadn’t seen them in ages, and it was great to catch up and spend some time together. Growing up, Roger was a pretty intimidating guy to me. He was a Marine and had a pretty gruff, tough demeanor. But he definitely had a “cool uncle” side – from his super sweet yellow 70’s Firebird to their driving across America in their Ford pickup truck with Grandma and uncle Kevin, to the time when he brought over this massive orange raft for us kids to use in the crick. Roger was an avid adventurer/explorer and photographer/documenter (like me) and I enjoyed following his journeys all over the US. When we got a chance to talk in person last summer, he had definitely mellowed and we had a great conversation — of journaling, and reading, and traveling the amazing beauty of this country and experiencing the sense of wonder of adventure. A year later, on August 16, he unexpectedly passed away, which was a shock to my Aunt Susan and cousins, Sandy and Scott. It’s surreal to be in that place where you are grieving yet also having to go through the “stuff of life” of a loved one — the photos, the journals, tools, clothing, financials, and talking to all the people who they knew. I remember standing in Dad’s shop the day after he passed away — that place where I grew up seeing him and where so much of his life was spent — you could feel his spirit still in that room. Like I expected him to call my name from the other room and ask for me to hold something or grab a wrench from the bench. I know Scott was feeling that when he stood in his dad’s garage.
A month later, on September 16, my Aunt Nancy passed away after a long fight with lung disease/COPD. She had been dealing with it for a few years, and even throughout the pandemic, she still had remained strong. But this year it became harder and harder for her. Mom was always spending time with her and being a liaison with doctors and Uncle Vic and my cousins – Christine, Karyn and Justin. Nancy was the fun aunt. Honestly, she was such a goofball — always laughing, telling crazy stories and singing. When I was a kid, I remember getting to go spend the night at her house, which was always such a fun time for me. She would often come to the house with my cousins and we would just have so much fun running all over playing. Every so often we would go out on Uncle Vic’s big cabin cruiser boat, which of course, we thought was the best thing ever. I remember thinking how rich they must be to have such a grand boat. Because they lived close by, Nancy was always around — from birthday parties, to cookouts in the yard, to graduations. She had a great laugh.
Their presence will be missed, but like Gram P, Papa, Dad, and Gram — and the others who went before them, their memories continue on in each of us who knew them, who lived parts of their stories with them, and who will go on sharing their wisdom, humor, and wise counsel.
Thank you Josh! You’re words always are right on target but still msde mr cry! I have it in my head that Roger is on a trip and Nancy is sitting in her chair in the living room. We were so happy to see you last summer and had every intention of visiting again. I wish He didn’t go so soon but I’m glad we lived a good life full of adventures and family. He definitely mellowed!
Such beautiful memories of happy days with all who we have loved along the way.