Ogden, Utah.
Well, first off, happy birthday to Alan. 75 today. Whoa!
This morning, I had my second significant dream about Bev. I dreamt I came home, not to our actual home but more like a farmhouse style home, with an attached garage. When I came into the house I called out to Bev, asking if she wanted to take a walk, but there was no reply, just silence, which made the house seem empty. I wondered if maybe Bev had already gone out for a walk with the dogs (although we haven’t had a dog for years, let alone dogs, although in this case I think one of the dogs was Amy and Pat’s dog, Bella), and so I called Bev’s name again, and then looked in the garage and, sure enough, there was Bev’s car, the gold-brown Ford Focus station wagon, just as it was when we had it, so I knew that Bev hadn’t gone out and was still around somewhere. I just couldn’t find her. Maybe she went out walking on her own. It was a short dream, or, at least, that’s all I can remember of it.
Whereas, my earlier, and very delightful, Bev dream, which I’d hoped to have for months since Bev’s passing, was about the return and presence of Bev, this dream, also a nice dream, was about the absence of Bev, and not being able to find her, although knowing she was around somewhere.
That got me awake, starting a very basic and slow moving day, but a good one, as has been the case for each day on this trip. The morning was dominated by a pretty mighty thunderstorm with very high winds and wind gusts, in which I heard crashes on the motel roof and saw parts of the roof come flying off and into the courtyard below. The clouds were low, with a huge black thundercloud covering almost the entire sky, and misty white clouds descending on and increasingly covering the mountains outside my window. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get a photograph. That made me wonder what the weather was going to be like ahead, in the next few days, as I move north into Montana, and then, with my current plan, up into Canada, to Banff, Alberta. I certainly have little interest in driving in bad weather, and definitely not in hiking. I’m a fair weather friend, or a friend of fair weather, if you like.
I stayed in (what else could I do?), did my laundry, and had a rare work-related call at 11 with a treatment program in Iowa, and then spent some time trying to make this blog more user friendly, before finally giving up. I just can’t be bothered to call my internet provider again to figure it out. I also spent some time considering and mapping out the next part of my journey, following Banff, which, essentially, is either starting to head home, back to Massachusetts, or sticking around this part of the world until Russ arrives from Australia on Oct 10, and meeting him in Los Angeles. But more of that later.
By the time Dave arrived to pick me up at 2, the weather had picked up nicely, and it was almost (but not quite) shorts weather. I think for the days ahead, it’ll be long pants most days, and increasingly a sweatshirt, sweater, or fleece, and I think I’ll go get myself a shell to wear over the fleece, to cut the wind. Banff weather looks nice enough, but definitely on the cooler side, and definitely so at night.
Dave and I headed down to Draper, below Salt Lake, where we met Michelle for an early dinner (very early, but I won’t be eating again tonight). Nice drive down, seeing snow on the mountain tops off in the distance, and the clouds were dramatic.
It was really lovely seeing Michelle, and being with both and Dave and Michelle together. They, and DeLynn, have been close friends with one another for many years longer than I have known them, and I have known them for probably 20 years, or close to it. I very much appreciate, not just the relationships I’ve formed over the years through my work, but the authentic and enduring friendships, and that most certainly includes Michelle and Dave. They are sensitive, reflective, and introspective thinkers with whom it is easy to talk and share, and whose thoughts, ideas, actions, and sincerity I appreciate and value. I am fortunate to count them as friends.
After catching up a bit, our talk turned to these realities that pervade our lives, and the mysteries of life and death (corny as it may sound). Michelle has longed faced and so far overcome a life challenging illness, and her mother, to whom she was very close, died a year ago, also from the final and complete losses brought by Alzheimer’s, although was 10 years older than Bev.
Dave lost his son 14 years ago, and is now facing the death of a sister, among other losses in his life, as well as his own health challenges. But, at the end of our discussion, the only conclusion to draw is what th’ hell, I don’t know, when it comes to figuring it out, figuring out how to deal with it, and figuring out how to move on. Living in the moment is the way forward, but how to do that?
I came away thinking that I’ve only been on this post-Bev journey seven months since Bev passed, and only eight weeks since leaving Massachusetts. Perhaps I need another year before having a clearer sense, if I ever do, of how to live life, with a sense of meaning and purpose. Right now, it is one day or one week at a time, and the purpose and meaning is the trip itself.
Dave and I headed back to Ogden, with great cloud formations in the skies ahead, and Dave dropped me off at the motel. And here I am, writing my blog, and still thinking about our earlier discussion, still grappling with these big ideas. “What’s it all about, Alfie? Is it just for the moment we live?”
At the moment of Bev’s passing, meaning, purpose, structure, and the point of it all, and the life we’d built, just collapsed. The illusion of permanence and building something lasting, our lives together, vanished, as it must for everyone in the same position. Now I wonder how to fill things back up again, a question faced by so many other people who have experienced the same loss of someo ne so significant in their lives, in which the relationship itself shaped and gave meaning to their life. Well, enough of that for now. It seems an eternal question, with only one answer: I don’t know.
As for my journey ahead, I’ve at least tentatively mapped out staying on the west coast until October 10, when Russ arrives, and heading back to Massachusetts after he leaves from San Francisco (from where he’ll be heading to San Antonio, Texas, for the ATSA conference), which will get me back home sometime after October 20. For now, that’s my plan, but the next few days will shape that, including the weather.
