In 2009 Melissa asked me to blog alongside of her on her quilt shop blog. The following is an exert from my first post:
Monday April 27,2009
"I can't begin this journey without telling you a story. I am the mother of four children. Melissa is the oldest followed by Mike, Katie and Heidi. Two years and five months ago, my son, Melissa's brother was killed in an accident. Mike's death launched all of us on a grief journey that none of us were prepared for. We had not packed, we had no map. The English language fails when an attempt is made to put words to this grief. I would compare it like this. You have planned a trip your whole life. A place you want to live, maybe Minnesota, even Australia. You have done your research, trained, prepared. You are optimistic and hopeful, heading toward your destination, the wonderful place where your dreams reside. Suddenly and without any warning you find yourself in say...Bosnia. A war torn country where you know no one, you don't speak the language and you understand in the deepest place that this is where you now live and you will never go back to the place you were. I tell you this because I can only write from where I am. I know that I am not alone. Many people share stories of their own, some of them about trips planned for a lifetime and others, like me, that got shuttled to a place they have never been."
My desire was to bring you stories of Mike but in many ways that would be like roping the wind. Anything I have told you, maybe everything I have told you needed more. I wrote the stories as I know them now, cloaked in my desperation and pain. I may have lost sight of the original intent as I tried desperately to lasso that wind. Mike was more than there are words for.
Then there is this: Mike's fascination with buffalo began well before he worked out west. I think in his mind it certainly had to do with sustainability, lean meat, profitability and rotational farming, all of which interested Mike. But more than that I think it was the romance of the breed. The power of the breed. The idea that just maybe there was a chance to bring back something that had been nearly wiped out. Bison are large, mostly docile, courageous and really just want to be left alone. They are one of the few animals on earth tho that virtually 100% of them can be used for something, which made them then and now, an easy target.
In Mike's papers are detailed renderings of his property and his desire to raise buffalo. Like everything else he did he spent years reading and planning for what he was going to tackle in the future. If it had never happened for him though I think it would have been OK, the joy was in the dream.
In 2006 on his way home from the fire season he called me and said he was stopping off in Jamestown, North Dakota. He had heard that there was a herd of Bison there that had an Albino. It interested him and he decided to check it out. A couple of hours passed and then he called again. He was laughing as only he could and this is what he told me. He pulled off the freeway and spent time looking around the museum. He paid the entry fee and walked all over the allowed areas looking for the herd. The complex is big and knowing Mike he covered every inch. Looked at all the displays, read all the historical info, viewed the animals that were there. Never saw the Albino buffalo. He said he got back into his truck, drove through the complex and back up onto the freeway, he turned and glanced to his left and there it stood, right against the fence in perfect view of the freeway.
This is what I know: When Mike died, we all lost someone different. I lost my second child, my only son. The 6 month old infant that I dropped when I tripped walking up the stairs of the old hospital in my hometown only to get inside and hand him over to a surgeon to repair a hernia he had at birth. The 2 year old that got a pair of work-boots and a chainsaw for Christmas never knowing that in the future he would know more about chainsaws and work-boots than most people and it would be his work-life. I lost the 7 year old that struggled to learn to ride a bike and didn't want anyone to know how hard he tried. It was when he discovered he could do anything if he put his mind to it. I lost the 16 year-old that raced a team of sled dogs parralel to the shipping lane of Lake Michigan one dark and below zero night, his ace in the hole a 12 year-old lead dog named Nellie that my brother promised and I counted on would get him through, one year after a different musher lost their way and drowned. I lost a twenty year-old that decided in a weeks time he was going to go to college. It was late August when he decided and he was sitting in his first class when they started the next week. I lost the 28 year-old that went to his nieces birthday party and when all the other people were in the garage talking and drinking beer, he was in the sand-box playing tractors with his niece. On December 3rd, 2006 I lost all new memories of my son and then I lost myself.
I started writing this year thinking I knew exactly what I was searching for but maybe in some ways I simply tried to hard. I looked everywhere I thought the answers were when maybe what I really needed was to simply look off to my left where it has been standing all along. There is a line from the movie "What Dreams May Come" that says "what's true in our minds is true, whether some people know it or not." I thought I had lost that one person that if I was going through Hell would be first on my team. If I had only looked to the left I would have seen him, standing right where I needed him.
I am going to continue to write. I will spend the rest of my life trying to rope the wind.
In 2013 my wish for you all is that you always find the light that leads you home.
till next time.
 |
| Permanently etched into my left hand for Courage For Mike "It's not about understanding, it's about not giving up." What Dreams May Come |
 |
| Mike and "Sammy" at Monica's Party
|
 |
| Chainsaws and work-boots |
