7/16/16

This weekend I had the opportunity, between everything crammed into my busy schedule to go and visit a friend of mine in Arizona. This is a man who I worked with in Alaska, someone who I haven’t seen for at least 5 or 6 years. But like it is with a lot of my family and friends, at least those who I consider to be real family, it doesn’t matter if it’s been 6 years, or 6 days, it is always a rejoice to see each other. This trip brought a lot of things to mind, and things into question about my life (and the next). It was a good trip, but not because there was singing and dancing, but because there was honest thought and love. This was the hardest trip I have had in a long time. Not because of the solo drive and the short stay, but because of challenge I had with a common question I thought I had answers to. Let me explain…

I need to start by telling you about this guy. I worked with Chris while I was at NorthStar trekking and Above and Beyond in Juneau Alaska. He and I met shortly after my brother Mike had passed away and Chris was somehow instantly special to me. He has that nature, he is the kind of guy that after a short while with him, you want him to be your friend for life. He’s the kind of guy that would give his shirt to a stranger, or his house to a friend. He sees the best in people and sees the world as a beautiful, mysterious adventure. He was skilled on the ice, and in the water (although I never had the opportunity to explore the deep with him). He is a talented artist and brings his passion into his daily living. He is the kind of guy that sees the world for how it could be, how wonderfully magical and peaceful it could be; and he feels the impressions of the universe around him. This is all complemented by his always smiling wife, Keely. She is a young, blond heli piolet who has not only allowed Chris to chase his feathers in the wind, but encourages him to and expects him to.

I haven’t been to see Chris, despite our best intentions to get together more than once in the past, in what felt like a long time, and I guess 6 years is a long time. Regardless, I still held him as family, and he held me the same. We would text from time to time, but he had 3 kids and a life, where I had 2 and an equally demanding life. So, naturally as it seems friends to, we drifted. There is something though about the friends you make in Alaska – they may drift, but it somehow doesn’t change the relationship.

A couple years back, Chris was diagnosed with ALS. I heard about it by a post I saw on Facebook. When I read it, my jaw dropped. ALS, amyotrophic lateral sclerosis or Lou Gehrig’s disease, is a very rare (less than 20,000 cases in the US per year, nervous system disease that weakens muscles and impacts physical function. Although doctors think there is a genetic component, there’s no known cause. And although medication and help slow the process, and increase comfort, there is no cure. Most diagnoses say 2-5 years before it finally paralyzes your diaphragm and you pass away without the assistance of mechanical breathing. While your body rebels against you, you mind doesn’t; so all the while you’re still keenly aware of the world and your situation. I knew all this, and I knew that it wasn’t good. I had to see him. So I drove 9 hours south to his house for a 4-hour visit before turning and heading back – he would do the same for me and he would have mowed my lawn before he left.

So a month ago, after seeing the post, I reached out to Keely and asked if I could come see him. She agreed and I started making plans with my family and work. When I finally got down there it was roughly 500 degrees in the shade at noon. I waited for him to come home, and when he did it took all my willpower not to break down sobbing. Here was a guy I knew to be an adventurer, a surfer, mountain climber, artist, musician whittled down by illness. Someone strong and tall with hair I would kill for. He could barely stand and required assistance when he was on his feet. Standing up out of his wheelchair we embraced and I cried. He, Keely, his three cool kids, and I spent the next few hours hanging out. Doing nothing. Talking about anything. Chris would smile his sideways smile at some stories I told from the past, but the disease had nearly taken all this voice and his smile and laugh were only shadows of what I remember. They are still in there, you can see them, hear them. They are just deep behind the assault of this disease process. I would put the glass of Alaskan Ale I bought for him in his hand, which it too had lost nearly all of its strength, and remember how strong and gentle these hands were. They made me think of my brother Mike’s hands. They were huge, Mike had paws that I have only ever seen on one other guy (Mike Miller). It made me remember my brother’s hands as his body laid in the casket. They were Mike’s, but they weren’t his. I don’t how to best explain this: This guy in front me was Chris, my good friend, a man I loved deeply, but it was Chris held back. I could see him wanting to jump out of his chair and say, “F***ing Eh Charlie!” like we used to. ALS had robbed him. He still laughed, he could still talk with me. Even still he was positive and told me he would beat it. He said it with a smile on his face and a warmth that radiated from his heart that seemed to overpower even the Arizona heat.

I left too soon to make a long car drive home to see my kids and wife, and get ready for my hectic life to resume. But really I left to mend a broken heart. I stood him up again from his wheelchair and hugged him. Told him I loved him and he said, “I love you too.” I began to cry and wanted to find a way to eliminate the horror of the situation. I have seen disasters before. Working in the Emergency Room I see death and destruction too often. My heart goes out to many, and I have even sat with some patients and family and cried with them. However, it is always excusable in my life, something I can dismiss. I hugged Keely and walked out the door. I thanked them for letting me come, and walked to my car. I got in, and wept.

So here’s the rub… I love Chris, and I am sorry it too me so long, and something so monumental, to finally get off my butt and go see him. I am not sure when I will see him again, and that’s hard – really hard. That very well may have been a “good bye” visit (although I hope not) and I consider myself very fortunate to have someone so special in my life that a “good bye” visit is tough. I am lucky to have such a friend, and in that fortune, in my love for him and the blessings I have felt from him, the departure is tough. But as I thought more about it, I don’t think that was all why it was so hard for me. I think there is another level that plagues my mind.

‘Why does God let bad things happen to good people?” I have heard this from a lot of people, a lot. I always thought I had a good answer that explained the thinking of God, or at least, the thinking of people around us. “Free Will” always came into the discussion at one point or another. But what about when it isn’t something that was influenced at all? ALS for example seems to be a selective and serious thing that no one really has any clue about. So why does it hit some and not others? Why Chris, why not me? If we want to bring God into this, the only thing that makes any sense at all in my mind in regards to that anymore is Matthew 5:45. Now, understanding that God allows His sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and “sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust,” I don’t feel like He is going to step into our lives very directly, very often. He has caused the sun to fit into a pattern and it does it, regardless of me or you. Much is the same in our lives – things are in motion, maybe by Him in some obscure way, or by others, and they are allowed to play out, come what may.

“What’s next? What happens when we die?” This is a tough one. I think it is tough because none of us have been there (at least that I have met) and all of us are going there (none of us get out of this life alive). I feel a lot my thinking on this has been influenced by my upbringing and the religion of my youth. I didn’t expect the conversation with Chris to get this philosophical (not that he isn’t capable, he certainly is) but that it was meant to be a lighter reunion and a time to celebrate. However, as I waited for him to come home, I sat and wondered if I was asked, “will I see you again?” “will I see my family again?” what would I say? I have learned somethings from my youth, and one thing is that I don’t know a lot of things. I have hope in a lot of the things I thought I knew, and faith in something greater than me. I know there is a loving Supreme Father who looks upon all of His children with hope and love. I don’t know what the afterlife looks like, but I have hopes and some suspicions. There is nothing that goes with us into the next life that we can carry. It’s only “us.” So what’s “us”? Our intelligence, soul, spirit. Whatever name we put to it, it is the part of us that is real. Everything else is just a temporary filler.

So this part of us that bears the nearest resemblance to the Divine, is the part that feels love, and hate. It’s the part of us that when we look at our children, bursts into a million pieces of gratitude. This is the part of us that lives past this life. Now, if we join some collective intelligence, or if we sit around talking about how great God is and worshiping at His feet, or if we get to have some job like paying a harp or helping create something, I don’t know. I suspect that there are many who, when they die, they go through a period of time ‘learning’ that they have died. I don’t think that our loved ones are waiting, as if at the airport, for us to arrive. I think there will be some kind of adjustment, some sadness for having left other loved ones still in the living world. I imagine that we may not totally recognize the afterlife world and the individuals there. However, I feel strongly that, once we have learned and accepted that we are no longer living, but that we are still alive, once we accept the Divine truths laid before us, we start the looking for people we love. Somehow I feel like they will be near, and the closer they were with us in this life, the easier they will be to find in the next. I am sure that they will be as anxious to find you as you will be to find them – which makes the hunt a little easier.

So do I think you will be with your wife and kids again after you die? Yes. What does that look like? I am not sure. Will God be there to shake your hand, kiss your face and divulge all the secrets of the Universe to you? I’m not sure. Maybe… but not at first. I think that will take time; time for us to learn a few things and accept a few things before something like that can happen. After all, the intelligence or spirit or soul that we are now doesn’t just automatically change just because we shed this bag of bones. At least, I don’t think so.

So my visit to Arizona, to see my longtime friend was a good one. Good that I had the chance to see him, tell him how much I love him and remember how amazing he is. Good to see his lovely wife and three awesome kids. It was good to contemplate some deeper things that I haven’t for some time. Good to feel so deeply that it still brings me to tears.

It was a good trip, but it was one of the saddest and spiritually wrenching trips. I am so angry with the universe for this injustice. Here’s a guy who loves his family has three amazing blessings that brought him so much joy. A 10-year-old daughter who looks at her dad like a hero. A 9-year-old who doesn’t understand why this had to happen and wishes he could change it. And 3-year-old who only knows this and is beautiful and playful. He has a wife who loves deeply and works hard. She is strong, she’d have to be to have loved this wanderer, and smart. A caring mother and a loving wife. Here’s a man who is one of the best I know, who loves to have adventures with his kids and wants to teach them how wonderfully mysterious and beautiful this life is. And yet… he is trapped in a cage, unable to do what he wants in the way he wants. I am still brought to tears and I feel guilty for shaking my fist at God thinking I know better than He does.

This trip also brought up a love of feelings I had when my brother died. Like, why did this happen? I don’t know. Will it take him away from this world too soon? I don’t know, but I imagine, yes. I feel like it already has in some ways. Will he be ok? I don’t know, I hope so. Will I see him again? I hope so. In this life or the next, I would feel incomplete in part if he weren’t out there somewhere in my world making it a better place like only he can.  It reminded me of a quote that was sent to me when Mike died that helped me let go of a little. “Why love, if losing hurts so much? I have no answers anymore: only the life I have lived. Twice in that life I’ve been given the choice: as a boy and as a man. The boy chose safety, the man chooses suffering. The pain now is part of the happiness then. That’s the deal.” So that’s the deal. I hurt and I am angry and confused and sad. I don’t have answers like I feel I should. I am lost in some way. So why do I love people when this is the result? The pain now is part of the happiness then. The happiness was a knife that carved into me only as far as the pain could go. They go hand in hand, and I am grateful for both when I really take a moment and ponder.

My brother Mike loved Winne the Pooh, and so do I. There is a lot of simple wisdoms in those books and cleaver stories. One that comes to mind with situations like this is chapter 10 in which Christopher Robin and Pooh come to an enchanted place, and we leave them there. Christopher Robin was going away. Nobody knew why he was going; nobody knew where he was going; indeed, nobody even knew why he knew that Christopher Robin was going away. But somehow or other everybody in the Forest felt that it was happening at last. And Eeyore the donkey reads his poem:

“Christopher Robin is going
At least I think he is
Where?
Nobody knows
But he is going-
I mean he goes
(To rhyme with knows)
Do we care?
(To rhyme with where)
We do
Very much
(I haven’t got a rhyme for that
“is” in the second line yet.
Bother.)
(Now I haven’t got a rhyme for
bother… Bother.)
Those two bothers will have
to rhyme with each other
Buther
The fact is this is more difficult
than I thought,
I ought-
(Very good indeed)
I ought
To begin again,
But it is easier
To stop
Christopher Robin, good-bye
I
(Good)
I
And all your friends
Sends-
I mean all your friend
Send-
(Very awkward this, it keeps going wrong)
Well, anyhow, we send
Our love
END”

I feel a bit like Eeyore here. It’s very awkward this. I feel like I should start over, but it’s easier to stop. I, and all your friends, send our love. Maybe in hopes that you can carry a portion of it with you wherever it is you will go.

In the end of chapter 10, Christopher asks Pooh, “Pooh, whatever happens, you will understand, won’t you?” Chris, in the end of it all, I will understand. I love you brother. I miss you. I hope to see you again.