I Miss You

Yesterday my sanctuary failed me. I could feel nothing. No words came to me. It was a certain kind of emptiness that was unsettling. All I could do was stare out, watching the clouds move and the darkness cover the sun.
Despite the troubles of yesterday, I still returned, hoping and pleading with myself. I was treated to some low lying clouds that made the mountains seem mystical. I hiked up to the ridge as the sun began to peak out from the clouds. This time words were coming to me. Thoughts were coming to me.
And so many memories of our boy. They came crashing into me. I turned the music louder trying to drown out the despair until I could breathe again.
I sat with my books and my writings. The memories continued to hit me and I sat with so much sadness and despair.

Morning Poem
Every morning
the world
is created
Under the orange

sticks of the sun
the heaped
ashes of the night
turn into leaves again

and fasten themselves to the high branches-
and the ponds appear
like black cloth
on which are painted islands

of summer lilies.
If it's your nature
to be happy
you will swim away along the soft trails

for hours, your imagination
alighting everywhere.
And if your spirit
carries within it

the thorn
that is heavier than lead-
if it's all you can do
to keep on trudging-

there is still
somewhere deep within you
a beast shouting that the earth
is exactly what it wanted-

each pond with its blazing lilies
is a prayer heard and answered
lavishly,
every morning,

whether or not
you have ever dared to be happy,
whether or not
you have ever dared to pray.
- Mary Oliver

Nature continues to call to me. Even as these memories slam against me.
I breathe.
In.
Out.

A bluebird flies to a nearby tree and hops up and up. Oh how I love sitting in nature and witnessing so many beautiful creatures. And how these creatures can just be. How wild and free.
Despite all this beauty, there is still so much pain. Pain for knowing our boy should still be here. And how much he loved life. And how he taught us to be wild and free.
And to love.
And to live.
And to be kind.
He was our whole world. And then he wasn't. And here we are wondering what our world is now. I seek this nature and way of being in hopes of figuring out what is next. How our hearts will go on, how we can open ourselves back up to this world. How to honor his death and make sure his life is never forgotten.
And I cry. Nature brings these tears once more. I think I'm so numb and unfeeling and not for this world. But I sit here with the gentle breeze and the sun blazing against my back and I'm reminded I'm alive.
Breathing.
Living.
Loving.
And maybe I'm not as closed off as I think I am. Maybe I'm not as numb as I think I am. But oh how I wish I could keep these feelings after I leave the ridge. And explain to people why I love coming here and how I find myself here again and again. How I try to live again. Love again.
The bluebird flies off, soaring high above in the sky. I crave that freedom. That wildness. If I crave something, then I must not be so lost. Am I?

I miss you dear boy. I miss you.

I Will Be Okay

 Yesterday I climbed up on the ridge in the pouring rain. I inhaled the scent of rain in nature, breathed in and out and just stood admiring nature in the storm. It reflected my own inner state and thus, gave me some measure of peace to have the outside world match my inside.

Today I climbed the ridge again. This time bathed in sunlight. And I thought how interesting nature can change so rapidly and every day is anew. One day dark and stormy and raging...and the next soft and bathed in sunlight. And I wonder if that can be me too? Can I be dark and stormy one day and leave it there in that day and wake up the next day anew. Bathed in sunlight. Back to peace. Back to calm.

And I think perhaps this is why Kreed loved nature so much. He always took each moment by itself. He could rage in one moment from the storm happening in his body, but be peaceful and happy in his next moment, the storm calmed and he feels back to himself. Bathed in the sunlight of his heart.

Why can't I feel that now? I lived in those moments with him and was able to shift as he shifted. I could go from protecting him with everything I had, to joyfully laughing as he stuffed Five Guys french fries in his mouth without ever giving another thought to the storm we raged against an hour before.

Now I find myself constantly cycling into the storm, sometimes without seeing a way out.  Then I climb this ridge and I think maybe.
Maybe it won't always be like this.
Maybe I won't always feel like this.
Maybe I can be bathed in the sunlight of my own heart.
Maybe I can calm the storm raging inside.
Maybe the pain won't be so great.
Maybe I can connect to this world again.
This nature provides a hope nothing else can. To see it rage with the storm and to see it heal with the sun coming up, lighting up the world.

"But if a man would be alone, let him look at the stars. The rays that come from those heavenly worlds, will separate between him and what he touches...The stars awaken a certain reverence, because though always present, they are inaccessible; but all natural objects make a kindred impression, when the mind is open to their influence."

"The lover of nature is he whose inward and outward senses are still truly adjusted to each other; who has retained the spirit of infancy even into the era of manhood. His intercourse with heaven and earth, becomes part of his daily food. In the presence of nature, a wild delight runs through the man, in spite of real sorrows. Nature says,- he is my creature, and mature all his impertinent griefs, he shall be glad with me. Not the sun or the summer alone, but every hour and season yields its tribute of delight; for every hour and change corresponds to and authorizes a different state of the mind, from breathless noon to grimmest midnight. Nature is a setting that fits equally well a comic or a mourning piece." - Ralph Waldo Emerson

And here I am mourning in nature. Feeling the sun trying to light up my dark, the cool crisp air wrapping me in a breezy hug and the beauty begging me to connect with the world again.
Will I connect?
How will I connect?
I don't know. But I will come here again and again seeking my own heart and soul in the places where Kreed felt truly alive and the pain and rage inside didn't matter. And I realize that I felt the same as him- despite the pain and the storm raging inside, nature always brought me back to myself- with him- and now with myself.
Yesterday it was dark with rain pounding down. Today the world is lit up with a blazing sun.

And I think maybe, just maybe, I will be okay.

Stay Wild With Me

"Promise to stay wild with me. We'll seek and return and stay to find beauty and the extraordinary in all the spaces we can claim. We'll know how to live. How to breathe magic into the mundane." -Victoria Erickson, Writer
That was my promise to you dear boy. We lived wild. We found magic everywhere. We found the extraordinary in every space we inhabited. You sought the world without limits, simply seeking to do more than exist but live. And to teach the rest of us that it's okay to love simply, live simply and live in this world as one big adventure.
Even as you sat day after day in the hospital searching for answers, you had a grand adventure and touched the hearts of everyone you met. Even the staff in the hallways as you went speeding down them on your scooter- they couldn't help but curl their lips into a smile and for a brief moment they felt happiness- watching you experience joy so simply and so free.
You taught me to be wild and free- to make sure you experienced this world in every possible way.
I watched the way you walked through nature, inviting the wind to embrace you, greeting the trees and leaves, sometimes with a little lick because you wanted every sense immersed in this world. Or raking your hands through the branches and flowers to say hello. I hope, dear boy, you were happy- I hope you felt wild and free. I hope you felt love- from us- from others- from nature.
Thank you- for your love.
                     Your life.
                     Your teachings.
                     Your heart.
                     Your soul.
                     Your everything.
I hope I can live as you did-
Free.
Wild.
With love.
With everything I have.
I miss you. Here at 7am, high up on this ridge, I wish you could climb with me. To see how it called to you. To see how you felt it.
I sit here and FEEL you. And let nature catch my tears. And I just want to live this life and be good- and make sure the world knows how extraordinary you were.
And how to live this life wild and free.

To Go On As We Never Have

"It is impossible for you to go on as you were before, so you must go on as you never have."
-Cheryl Strayed

And here I sit. Trying to find...what?
Myself?
My grief?
Love?
Kreed?
My soul.
I sit high up on a ridge, letting nature consume me. Desperately seeking connection. Feeling. My tears fall softly and nature catches them. The tree's keep the secrets of my grief. This ridge gives me my feelings back. I sit in the world and just be. Nothing else exists in these moments but me, my body, my heart, my soul. Where is my soul?

I think of Kreed and the way he craved nature and the way he could just exist moment to moment. And he taught me that too- but I seem to have forgotten that lesson.

But- love- his teachings of love- I feel every day. As Carie and I navigate this life without him and carry this burden of grief, we still love.
Each other.
Our life.
Him.
And every day we breathe.
To keep ourselves present.
To stay above the currents of grief.
To find solace in each other.
And to remember-
Him.
I sit on this ridge and just exist. For myself. For him. For her.
And remember my soul can still exist. And I breathe.
In.
Out.
He is no longer with us- now we must exist for ourselves. And decide. What will we do with our one and wild life. And I think- Kreed taught us it's okay to live this life wild.

The Summer Day
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
- Mary Oliver

"To be fully human is to be wild. Wild is the strange pull and whispering wisdom. It’s the gentle nudge and the forceful ache. It is your truth, passed down from the ancients, and the very stream of life in your blood. Wild is the soul where passion and creativity reside, and the quickening of your heart. Wild is what is real, and wild is your home."
- Victoria Erickson

This Grief Journey

Grief is a long inward journey. This has been mine lately.

August 3rd, 2017
It does not matter the state I am in, when I begin to read the words, my heart is transformed. And oh how I read of Kreed in these pages- and my own life too.
When I think of him I feel- I remember, I have to go on.
To love the world the way he loved the world.
To feel the world the way he felt the world.
To experience what this world had to offer. 
But that's not always so easy- I miss the way he experienced this world.
The way he FELT this world.
Wholly.
Purely.
Joyful.
Without Limits.
I get locked into numbness and distracted by the comings and goings of this world. Do that. Don't forget this. A million things to do. We forget to just be.
To just experience the wind whipping across my body. The sounds and stillness of the creek. The wonder and beauty of the canyon at sunrise. The hummingbirds call and small body darting here and there.
We forget that sometimes it's enough to just exist.
To feel peace. Happiness. Solace.

To be glad we just exist in this world.

Oh do you have time
to linger
for just a little while
out of your busy

and very important day
for the goldfinches
that have gathered
in a field of thistles

for a musical battle,
to see who can sing
the highest note,
or the lowest,

or the most expressive of mirth,
or the most tender?
Their strong, blunt beaks
drink the air

as they strive
melodiously
not for your sake
and not for mine

and not for the sake of winning
but for sheer delight and gratitude—
believe us, they say,
it is a serious thing

just to be alive
on this fresh morning
in the broken world.
I beg of you,

do not walk by
without pausing
to attend to this
rather ridiculous performance.

It could mean something.
It could mean everything.
It could be what Rilke meant, when he wrote:
You must change your life.
- Mary Oliver, Invitation

July 31st, 2017
As I began my hike today, I passed by some geese I don't normally see. Instantly I thought of this poem:
Wild Geese
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
-Mary Oliver

And I thought of Kreed who loved what he loved and felt joy simply- for the world was a wonder to him. Now I hike daily in the early hours of the morning finding ways to love again and see the beauty of the world. The day he left us it felt like the dark clouds came rolling in and began the storm. It has raged over us for over a year and I didn't think or know if we would ever get through it. I still don't know. But the mornings I hike and stare up at the sun and feel it's warmth and see the beauty of this world, sometimes I wonder.
I wonder if we just start again.
I wonder if we find joy again.
And how.
I wonder if we find happiness.
And if it feels different.
I wonder how we live in this world without the most joyful and innocent of souls.
And I sit and stare out over the vast expanse of nature before me and know at the very least, we must keep going. We are here. Alive. Breathing. The world offers itself to us and somehow we have to find ourselves again.

July 30th, 2017

My grief journey and daily musing while hiking in the early hours of the morning. I wish I could have taken the courses in college now versus then. While I was a psychology major, I took a healthy dose of English classes too. But then I was naive and unknowing and didn't understand what I was reading. I had zero life experience to understand the value of the words and the impact of them upon my heart.
Then I met Kreed. And for years I didn't read nor did I need to because we were experiencing what people write books about. I watched him in the sun and the joy of his hopping through the forest or the way he stopped and felt the wind whip passed his body. Or how he stared at the wonder of a waterfall. Or pressed his face into the cool water, wanting every sense he had to feel what nature had to offer.
I hike now in the early morning, maybe in some attempt to find him there. To feel what he felt. To see what he saw. To hear what he heard. To immerse myself in the feeling of being in such a beautiful place that only offers itself in all its majesty and nothing more. And I search for the joy he found in those moments. I miss him.

Border Line

I used to wonder
About living and dying-
I think the difference lies
Between tears and crying.
I used to wonder
About here and there-
I think the distance
Is nowhere.
-Langston Hughes

 

He Is The Only One

Guest Blog from Kreed's Grandmother Tammy:

"Life can only be understood backwards, but must be lived forward." - Anonymous

Whenever I see this quote, it always makes me think of Kreed Joshua. As doctors and specialists "look back" at Kreed's life and research the gene that wreaked havoc and destroyed his body, Kreed LIVED life always moving forward.

Of course, I do not need to read a quote to be reminded of, or remember Kreed! I have a kaleidoscope of memories of him! Not only in my mind, but as I look around my home and see the many pictures that we so proudly display, and the mementos that he gave me, his Grandma Tammy, or the things that Erin and Carie "re- gifted" me after we lost him. I have a small Christmas tree that I set up in honor of him and his love of the holidays that is decorated with the Peanut characters that he adored. Books that I gave him surround it. Cards that he sent me and signed hang proudly on my wall alongside the  pictures and cards that my other grandchildren gifted me. As any grandmother can attest to- - - the gifts received from the grandchildren are so precious and become treasured mementos. Kreed loved the outdoors, so I have dedicated a part of my garden in honor of him as well. I painted a bicycle orange, his favorite color, and have a Superman sign there as well. Kreed was a Superman, a real-life superhero.

Kreed Joshua "bounced" into my life less than a decade ago, but the impact that he created in my life will last forever! To know Kreed was to LOVE him. His charisma drew you to him instantly. He had a smile as wide as the Mississippi River is long. He could be as loud as a race car going 100mph, and flashed a colorful personality that was as vibrant as a Fourth of July fireworks display. There was never any doubt that when Kreed was in your presence, he was not ignored! His playfulness was contagious! Exhausting at times too, but his heart was genuine.

Although Kreed could not "speak" in words what he felt, he surely found ways to articulate his desires, and it was always with much enthusiasm. Whether it was to go out to eat (always!), go for a walk, go shopping, go out to play, go boating, etc., one thing was for sure, Kreed wanted to GO! His zest and excitement for things could sometimes generate lively displays of various emotions. This would cause stares from fellow shoppers and restaurant goers, but Erin and Carie took it in stride. These animated displays of pleasure and displeasure never kept them from exposing Kreed to ALL kinds of wonderful new adventures! He had the privilege of going kayaking, boating, tubing, horseback riding, bicycle riding, camel riding, hiking, swimming, and flying across the country, just to name a few! He was eager to try new things, and definitely had, NO FEAR!

Kreed Joshua, I miss you immensely. You inspired me and many others to enjoy life to the fullest. You knew that "tomorrow" always brings a chance to make new friends, eat more fries, learn new skills, smile and giggle, cuddle, and bounce! In a play on words from Tigger, the fun loving, always bouncing character from the Classic Tales of Winnie the Pooh... You are bouncy, trouncy, flouncy, pouncy, fun, fun, fun, fun, fun....

             But the MOST wonderful thing about Kreed...he is the ONLY ONE!!