the aftermath

When Amaya first asked me to do the walk as a family I said, "Ugh"

So far out of my comfort zone

So not ready even after 12+ years

But Royce and Amaya chipped away

With their increased closeness from last years walk

Shared memories that are theirs alone

I have three brothers

We rarely call each other just to chat

We are comfortable in the knowledge that we are there for each other

We move along in our lives

Coming together to celebrate milestones along the way

Then scattering back to the day-to-day

My dad was not big into idle chitchat

He was, however, into family

He would watch the chaos

Chime in from time to time

Discuss art, music, history, anything

Or just sit

Silent

Observing

Marrying into this family comes with a price

We have a gene that means...

We don't always communicate

We feel comfortable sitting

Silent

Listening

Observing

It doesn't mean not caring

It doesn't mean not interested

It just is

It is difficult to change patterns

To compliment

To praise

To discuss rather than decide

To ask for assistance

To accept help

To realize that it is okay not to be in control

Not to be perfect

This past six month have been tough

A lot of buried memories have surfaced

There were a lot of questions, some for which I had answers and some that I never will

It made look at where I was, where I am, and where I want to be

So Saturday, June 9th, we walked

Amaya, Royce, Taylor, Jessica, Melissa, Mari, and I

In my head the plan (there must always be a plan) was:

Arrive at 6

Start walking at 7

4 miles/hour

Finish at midnight

Home by 2

Done

Get back to normal

Not so much

It was more than that

It was being in a sea of people that in some way, shape or form knew first hand what you had been through

It was seeing the immense amount of support that flowed from one group to another People that you had never met and would most likely never see again but shared a bond with forever

It was knowing by seeing the colors of the beads they wore around their neck who they had lost

And surprisingly it wasn't grim

Maybe it was the adrenalin

Maybe it was keeping track of my "peeps"

Acting as "momma bear" as Melissa called it

Maybe it was Amaya constantly yapping at me to watch where I was walking

I didn't fall and break anything, which seemed to be a big concern of the kids

The weather was picture perfect

Walkers and bystanders were friendly 

There was a sense of camaraderie 

Of helping everyone complete their walk

Royce pushing a woman in  a wheel chair up a hill (big BIG hill) until he ran out of steam and another walker took over

Taylor doing her power walk at 3 am 

Pictures at the mile markers

Sometimes we walked in a pack

Sometimes we were more spread out

Each in our own little space trying to make sense of it

What it meant to each of us

And who we were walking for 

Walk

No you can NOT have a 20 minute rest

Walk 

Really

Walk

Do you want to get into the sweep van

No

Then walk

I do sleep deprivation well

I do focus well

I do not do whining well at all

I apologize to any and all that I snapped at

The ride home was very quiet

Except the part where we almost got taken out by a red zoom zoom car cutting across 4 lanes of traffic

I think Walter heard words he had never heard before strung together in a way that was creative to say the least

Again, I apologize 

Pain relief soup

2 Tylenol

1 Advil

1 Aleve

Follow with 2 Tylenol and 1 Aleve 6 hours later

NOT a recommendation, but no sore muscles or blisters

I would like to say that seeing all the friends and family at the house was more than I could have ever imagined

The melding of so many people from so many different stages of our lives was truly remarkable

I think Richard would have been pleased

That friends and family are are reconnecting

That we are all, in some way, getting a degree of closure

I am now trying to get back to normal

Normal was changed by the walk

It's been like taking a pickle out of a new jar of pickles and then wanting to put it back in

Nearly impossible and messy

So I am moving forward

Slowly

And as always, trying to control the mess

45 days to go

I am sure that I will finish the walk

Probably very gimpy
Partially due to the fact that I am not 30 (okay, even 55) any more
Partially because I have very little time to train
I expect blisters and a sore hip
Nothing that soft socks and a handful or two of Tylenol can’t cure

But it is really not about the walking

It is the head
It is the heart

It is all the memories
The good and the bad
The terribly funny and the just plain terrible

Life with Richard was good for a long time
Then it was bad
Then it was over

I could have made a career out of “if only” and “what if”
But it would not have changed the outcome
When he died our lives turned upside down
Everything was forever going to be different

I have spent more time thinking and talking about our life together in the last month than I have in the previous 12 years
It is very strange for me to spend so much time focusing on something that has a outcome I could not change
To share with friends and strangers alike a part of my life that I still don’t have closure for
Richard used to say that I could compartmentalize better than any person he knew
I do not believe that he meant that as a good thing
But he was oh-so-right

So little by little I share more
I smile more I laugh more
In memory of Richard
Who could make a room brighter just by being in it

overnight walk 2012

Today I bought shoes.

Not the kind of shoes to make me feel pretty and counteract looking like an aging Smurf 40+ hours a week at work.

No, these are walking shoes.

Shoes that I plan to walk in.

A lot.

Last year Amaya and Royce joined forces in New York for the Overnight Walk with the American Foundation of Suicide Prevention. 18 miles. Overnight. In honor and remembrance of their father.

I, on the other hand, was not ready. New York is not my thing. And I am not the kind to march for a cause or share with the world.

I did, however, see the difference it made in Amaya and Royce’s relationship. In Royce’s self esteem, and his ability to define what he wants out of life and to stand up for himself. It opened up our ability as a family to share the good, the bad, and the day-to-day struggle to keep moving forward.

This August will be twelve years since Richard’s suicide. Six months shy of half of Royce’s life.

This year the walk will be in San Francisco.

The weekend of June 9th.

I will be walking in remembrance of Richard.

And to thank him for the greatest gift he ever gave me: Amaya and Royce.