Nothing shakes a small community like loss. I sometimes forget what time of year it is until I start to get unsettled for no reason and realize that suddenly the middle of January is upon me without notice. Like migrating birds my body feels it, knows it, draws me in like constellations imprinted on my brain. In my bones, in the sinews holding me together, in the veins that pump blue under the pale skin of my arms I can feel it. I wasn't sure what was causing me to feel so low the last few days, what was causing a gut reaction to loss of any kind. Rigidity in my jaw any time that there was a possibility of someone slipping out of my life. This has caused me to cling as of lately. To everything. It is this time of year that I fear if I don't hold on tight it will all just happen again.
Sarah Burke, my idol for nearly a decade, wife of Rory Bushfield, fell the other day. I was watching tv eating breakfast and found myself in shock. Sarah Burke in a coma. Sarah Burke with a head injury. Sarah Burke who skied on blown knees, who married the most ridiculous boy in the world, who posed in her underwear and revolutionized my sport. In a coma. And I can't shake it. My heart goes out to her family and friends and all the others like me who don't know her but find inspiration in her life. My heart goes out to them because this is that time of year. In our community this time of year is marked with loss.
466 weeks ago. Every year I think I am past it. Think that I have moved forward from feeling this way. Every year I am more and more shocked that I still feel the loss. And as I write this through tears, rolling down my cheeks, soaking through my shirt, through the blanket on my lap I can't get past it. My heart still marked with the scars of grief. February 1st. An injury like Sarah's pulls a community together, loss brings people close because supporting oneself is just too much. The death of 7 young people in a school of less than 700 students is both devastating and life altering. I like to pretend that I am not still paralyzed when I am reminded of those weeks. I like to imagine that it no longer holds sway over my life. The reality is that this longing, loss and fear of losing people stays with me. Usually buried deep, these days it is hard to ignore. Just like the migration of whales north to south and back again it is instinctual, the short weeks leading up to the anniversary bring up more than I would like.
Through hard work I have come to create a parallel possibility that I am conscious of trying to embrace. It is not the possibility of loss and grief but one of connection and brining people into my life. It is the possibility that with my knowledge of the fragility of life that I must make sure that I spend time with the people in my life while I have the chance. It is the understanding that I must embrace how I feel this time of year and use it to benefit my life, not allow it to drag me down.
... and the mountains shall bring peace to the people...
Sarah Burke, my idol for nearly a decade, wife of Rory Bushfield, fell the other day. I was watching tv eating breakfast and found myself in shock. Sarah Burke in a coma. Sarah Burke with a head injury. Sarah Burke who skied on blown knees, who married the most ridiculous boy in the world, who posed in her underwear and revolutionized my sport. In a coma. And I can't shake it. My heart goes out to her family and friends and all the others like me who don't know her but find inspiration in her life. My heart goes out to them because this is that time of year. In our community this time of year is marked with loss.
466 weeks ago. Every year I think I am past it. Think that I have moved forward from feeling this way. Every year I am more and more shocked that I still feel the loss. And as I write this through tears, rolling down my cheeks, soaking through my shirt, through the blanket on my lap I can't get past it. My heart still marked with the scars of grief. February 1st. An injury like Sarah's pulls a community together, loss brings people close because supporting oneself is just too much. The death of 7 young people in a school of less than 700 students is both devastating and life altering. I like to pretend that I am not still paralyzed when I am reminded of those weeks. I like to imagine that it no longer holds sway over my life. The reality is that this longing, loss and fear of losing people stays with me. Usually buried deep, these days it is hard to ignore. Just like the migration of whales north to south and back again it is instinctual, the short weeks leading up to the anniversary bring up more than I would like.
Through hard work I have come to create a parallel possibility that I am conscious of trying to embrace. It is not the possibility of loss and grief but one of connection and brining people into my life. It is the possibility that with my knowledge of the fragility of life that I must make sure that I spend time with the people in my life while I have the chance. It is the understanding that I must embrace how I feel this time of year and use it to benefit my life, not allow it to drag me down.
... and the mountains shall bring peace to the people...
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