June 7th - July 21st, 2018: Things I'd Tell You
I'm writing this from a little organic coffee shop in Bend, Oregon, and though the words below are in chronological order, already written out at the date provided, doing their best to navigate and make sense of the past month or so, it would be doing them, myself, and all of you injustice if I were to dive right in.
The possible argument that... this could be seen as a clear character depiction of my need and want to explain everything. Alas, I'm moving forward with the why's and the how's and the what if's.
Let's start with the basics: I started this as a way to process the death of my grandpa. You can find more of those details, here.
The bigger picture: In processing the death of my grandpa, I am noticing the cycles and persistent habits of my often anxious self, amongst other things, and I'm not sure I would have noticed if I didn't check in with myself in this no-pressure and expectation-less kind of way.
So here we are, touching on the moments most often over-looked. The conversations we have with those closest to us, and why, why oh why, bringing to light the pain that's often felt as we transition from an end to a beginning, is worthy of taking note of and spending time with.
Making death and loss part of the whole discussion, instead of holding it captive behind closed doors. The result?Keeping it separate from some of the most important moments in our life.
But that's why we're here: To process not suppress. To work through and with, not against. To create. And forgive when resistance is met.
June 7th, 9:34 am. along the Umpqua River
We were able to fit in a sneaky little camping trip between moving (really just packing up), Adam and Steven will after Sean's graduation, which is why we've found ourselves between their place and Bend. A perfect overnight trip.
We've done two of these little camping trips so far this summer, and I have to say, it wouldn't be made as easy if not for the Chinook. That thing is so cozy and convenient!
It's warming up quick, I'm about to write a card for Jamie birthday with a coffee in hand, river to my left, and a lot of chatty birds above. And oh yes, Adam made a fire.
June 8th. at Jake and Lisa's
We're about to have a birthday dinner of burgers for Jamie's 28th. We rummaged through the storage unit to look for photos of Navarro Ridge, specifically gardening, you know, for the gardening book.
This is the first family gathering since you died.
But you very much feel part of it. I do, however, wish you were here for Sean's graduation tomorrow.
We leave for our trip in two days. It's going to be a good one.
June 9th. the evening after Sean's graduation
Tomorrow we head to Seattle, staying with Jamie and Cierra before our flight on Monday evening. Feeling wildly unprepared, but it is what it is.
Or maybe, what will be will be, and what won't, won't.
June 10th, 10:57 pm. at Jamie and Cierra's
It's the night before we leave for our big trip to the UK.
I'm nervous, excited, guilty (not sure where why this feeling has settled in), and anxious...
How am I to make this work?
You know, work, work. I feel way in over my head.
June 11th. Somewhere above the Atlantic Ocean (it's 1:04 am in Seattle)
I remember everything from the night that you died.
I never thought that would happen, and I don't know why that thousands of feet up in the air, this moment is coming back to me so vividly.
I suppose that is how it will go--the process of processing death.
On another note, how strange is it that we've skipped overnight entirely--off to go try and get some sleep.
June 15th, 12:05 am. in Leeds
We've arrived in the UK! It's been a busy few days, filled with jet lag and food and very little sleep. Tomorrow I'm hoping to get out a little more, also feeling a homesick at the moment as today is the day "we" move into our new house.
Anyways, off to bed.
June 17th, 1:28 pm. at a coffee shop in Brighton
In Brighton with many late nights.
Anxiousness around money and working and why and how in the world I am going to "figure it out." You can tell when I'm tired as my handwriting is terrible, sentences choppy, and thoughts scattered.
I'm feeling lucky, just a little tired is all.
a few days later in Cornwall, England.
The trees are like those in Mendocino, all windswept and still as if carved from the earth. I suppose they are well equipped for this environment.
We made our way from Brighton to Cornwall, an eight-ish hour drive. Quite tired, It's misty and damp outside as we sit in our cozy little hut--quite literally.
Will be an early night tonight. Looking forward to a clear head tomorrow.
June 19th, 1:40 pm. in Coverack, England.
We're sat at the end of a coastline just north of the little town of Coverack.
The water is turquoise, wildflowers are in their fullest form, and I'm feeling a little more creatively inspired as the trip goes on.
June 19th. a little later that day
Saw a rosebush today that looked like one we planted in the garden at tuckaway, just through the trees that curve over the road like a tunnel.
June 21st, 11:23 pm. at Susan's flat in Glasgow (summer solstice)
I just realized how the same old things are looping and looping through my head.
What's it going to take to change them? Like in a really big kind of way?
June 23rd, 8:58 am. while staying in the Highlands
We're in the Highlands, staying at a little Airbnb in the town of Acharacle. I've been wanting to write, "she says every single fricken day," so today I will.
Today I will, but first, off to get our ferry tickets from Mallaig.
This place is magic. I could move here in an instant.
June 23rd, 7:57 pm. thoughts while on the ferry to the Isle of Harris
You can always change your mind and you can change the story that's being told:
"wanting to do more with--arms spread up and out--this."
I've been in the same cycle for so long now, and I AM THE ONLY ONE stopping myself from doing those things I only dare dream of.
The only one.
It's the limitations I set around myself. Miles high.
I've never broken them down, at least not until now.
June 25th, 7:07 pm. on the Isle of Harris, part of the Hebrides. Actually, I'm pretty sure it's Lewis.
It's magic here.
I haven't any words to describe it.
I mean, of course, I do, but I already know that they won't do it justice.
We're out to go and make use of the free to roam that Scotland practices.
We saw a highland cow earlier. The wildflowers and beaches are incredible.
The little town we're in is a called Reef (Roif), and the history of it is surely fascinating for such a small and remote place.
June 26th, 10:53 pm. outside of our place in Roif
The sun is beating down on my back. There's a gentle breeze.
This might be my favorite place I've ever been. It feels like I've been here before, in the best kind of way.
Do you know what I mean?
June 27th, 1:11 pm. sitting on a 300 billion-year-old rock.
I might just be more content and at home with a place.
It's a feeling.
It's like all the goodness, the people and the moments I've lived through, are all here with me right now.
Reminding me that this is all I'll ever need.
June 30th, 10:09 am at the farm south-east of Carlisle, England.
This place has reminded me of so many things.
Things that I might never be able to explain. Also, this farm is just lovely. Roling hills all around, and a cat that joined us for breakfast, plus three domestic deer that joined us for dinner last night.
(Snow White, is that you? )
July 4th, 5:58 pm. in Mallorca, Spain
A bit stuck at the moment.
Decisions, the responsibility of happiness, when I am unsure of my own.
My breath feels shallow.
It's nice here, a bit touristy, but that's nothing to complain about.
I think I'm just feeling a bit anxious about being away from home during such a big transition.
July 9th, 11:30 pm. back at Susan's flat.
Today, while gloriously sunny, we popped into a bookstore full of old classics and oddities.
I even spotted Walt in there! A first edition I do believe.
July 15th, nearly 7:00 pm
It's been a week:
1. We arrived home from our month long trip
2. The next day we helped the family move into their new home
3. Sue gave us all the Garden Book
4. And now I'm back in Bend, in a home I'd love to show you
July 21st, 2:52 pm
It's been a week since I've arrived back from our month in Europe.
You'd love it here.
I'm gathering all sorts of ideas of how I'd like to plant a garden of my own.
There's a plum tree, apple, pear and cherry tree branching over from the neighbors garden. They invited us to join in on the plentiful fruit. So much so that Cory and Sue will make pies for the party in August.
Until next time,