betsyashbrook's Xanga

Farewell to Comfort

Fri, 21 Mar 2008 20:47:24 GMT

Ok, last post for real. From this point on, find me on the web at http://walkingtomaine.blogspot.com

This is xanga's final farewell. I am saying goodbye to the comforts life, only to take up a 50-pound (?) backpack and 2 walking poles and a heart full of gusto.

Bye bye sushi.

And bye bye running water. How I love you in the morning when my eyes are not awake.

How I love you in the noontime before the meals that I partake.

It's been nice being with you, Mom's Butterscotch Pie.

It's been delicious, Thai Iced Tea.

I'm missing you, dad. But we'll be closer on the Trail now than before.

You know how you spent so much of your life dreaming of what's beneath the surface?
Now you know...

I feel like we're about to crack our own code of sorts out in the forest.

And I'll see you soon, Sis.

You'll drive us to Springer Mountain. You'll meet us at the Smokies and take Trail for awhile. Maybe too, when you meet us you can bring us Tide with Downy, freshly-washed blueberries, cell service...and ice. The Office on DVD. A lazyboy. 2 buckets of buttered popcorn. A space heater. The sound of the ocean. A hammock and a stack of magazines. 5 frozen peppermint patties and my fluffy white bathrobe.

This is a farewell to the comforts of life. Hopefully the next time I emerge we'll have made it to Maine!

Sunday, March 09, 2008

Sun, 09 Mar 2008 23:10:31 GMT

Hello xanga friends. Thank you for your concern, and for praying for me and my family. I have learned a lot about grief over the past few weeks, more than I thought existed on the subject. I feel an overwhelming compulsion to explain my dad from top to bottom so that when you hear "my dad just died" it doesn't sound so...common. Dads die every day, right? But I want you to know that he was my dad, and he was wonderful and he will always be the backbone of our family. I want you to know that he grew up fishing the Clinch River and was a basketball star in high school, and had a 33-year career applying for grants to provide running water to people in backwoods Appalachian towns. I wish you knew how his face changed after a day on the lake, that he bought my mom incredible Christmas gifts, and that he liked milk with his pizza.

But I can just assume that you all know what it's like to have love come out of your heart for another person in a way that is best described as effortless. So, here I am on this side of saying goodbye in a surreal but promising way. You're gone for now, but I'll see you soon.

I've had a luxury that I'm sure a lot of people don't have when dealing with a death, and that is being able to be home and sit and talk and revisit details and heal. We've talked about dad and laughed about him and our memory pool is bottomless. Soon after the accident I wrote a letter to a friend and got a lot of emoting and storytelling off my chest and I thought I'd go ahead and post a chunk of it here on my xanga so that you can know the whole story, and understand again along with me how bad things can (and will) happen, but the world will keep turning and Daylight Savings Time will continue to screw up our sleep and it won't mean God has fallen off the throne. Why does it take the dark, scary, awful things to teach me the most? And how does it work that something awful (death) can yield something fruitful?

I see the whole world differently. I thought I would feel sorry for myself and envy everyone else going about their daily routine. Nothing could be further from the truth. Sure, I’m sad for mom who doesn’t have dad in her golden years, and I’m sorry my kids will never sit on his lap. But I suddenly have crystal clear perception of those who have fathers and husbands and sons but take them for granted, hold them at arm’s length. I’m left reeling in the goodness that my dad built into our family story, starting way back when he took us daughters to do grungy boy things on the riverbank. I pity those who didn’t have him for their dad or husband or friend or fishing buddy. I have no regrets and lots of gratefulness for the life I had with him at the helm.

I guess I also feared that trauma would make me as jumpy as a cat, but nope. I hold life a lot looser now. I can’t control death any more than I can life, and rather than left questioning why this awful thing happened, I’m amazed that I’ve been spared so much. It is just unreal all that has happened. This is the story.

It was Thursday, February 14^th – Valentine’s Day. And it started as a great day. I had given dad a bunch of stuff to read that I’d printed off the internet about glyconutrients, because it is helping people with MS. He’d spent the day calling people all over the US and was so amped that he called my sister to tell her how hopeful he was to do something new, and if that didn’t work, he was going to keep researching stem cell injections in Toronto and China. He never gave up looking for a way to get better. But then he would say God had more things to worry about than his legs. We all kept praying for him. But I guess he prayed more or harder or better or whatever, because his one prayer was “God, please let me die before I’m ever in a wheelchair.” Boy, I used to think that was a selfish prayer.

Mom, Dustan and I got home Thursday night around 9:30pm. We were all standing in the kitchen wondering where dad was because it was unlike him to be gone so late. Mom remembered that when she left the house just a little before 7, dad told her he was going to drive down to “smell the river.” She said to him, “You’ll always be my valentine” and he replied “I love you more now than I ever have.” We believe the accident happened right after mom left the house, that dad was dead instantly, and that he laid there until we came home and Dustan found him.

The MS was really starting to take a toll on dad’s body. He struggled to walk even with a cane because of bad balance and “heavy legs.” He had poor foot control in a vehicle – worse even than I knew. He used his hand to pick his leg up sometimes and told Dustan often “Don’t stand behind me when I’m backing up because I don’t have any soft touch” (we laugh now at the understatement), so it was no surprise to us when we were able to see the accident site in daylight and put together the pieces of what must’ve happened. Because dad was the last one to leave the house that evening, there were no cars behind him and he could be less cautious than usual when backing up. We could see the grooves in the pavement where the wheels spun on the asphalt when he hit the accelerator too hard. The result was that the truck was thrown back. It busted through the fence at the bottom of our yard before he could get his foot to the brake, and after that was airborne. You can see every tire track in the side of the hill and broken pile of glass where the truck hit, and if you could just see the grade of the hillside – it is a total drop off. Dad was dumped out of the truck and then the truck kept on tumbling down the hill. Standing on our driveway, the bottom of the hill where his truck ended up is like looking into a valley and spotting a distant piece of wadded up metal. It is a long way down.

Dustan discovered the accident while Mom and I were wondering where dad could be inside. He had gone out to unload something from our car when he heard the dogs barking and looked to see that a big chunk of the fence was down. (Now at night when I see it, it is like a black gaping hole and I wonder how we didn’t notice it immediately). We also kept our old aluminum river canoe laying there by the fence and Dust could see that it had been hit and was turned sideways. He ran to the edge and could see down to the valley and hear the ding dong from the truck, guessing the door was ajar or the dome light was on, never minding that the whole truck was crushed and the taillights were hanging out. It was way too far away to see that. He says that in that moment he put everything together. Knew my dad had crashed through the fence and that it was his truck dinging way down in the valley. He scrambled back inside, screaming for us to call 911. I think that was the worst moment of my life. I just remember he busted through the back door so hard that he shattered Trail’s porcelain water bowl. Then just like that he was gone, over the hill, calling for dad.

I have retraced those details in my mind countless times, convincing myself that he wasn’t cold, he didn’t suffer, he didn’t know what hit him. Many of our friends that are paramedics assure me of this but still I wake Dustan up asking if he is sure there was plenty of internal bleeding. He tells me again and again what he looked like and how blood trickled out of one ear and, oddly enough, that brings me much comfort. In the rush of panic when Dustan first discovered the broken fence and while my mom was calling 911, I grabbed my dad’s deer spotlight and started over the hill. I was wearing a sweater and I immediately got hung up in the briars. It was so cold, I was so panicked. I just stopped and craned down the hill with the spotlight. That light was so bright I saw everything. Too much. I could see his black truck waaaaay down the hill shiny and crumpled. Thirty feet up from the truck I could see Dustan moving and then I slowly understood that I was also seeing my dad laying face down on the ground. That image stuck in my mind for hours, but now the trauma of it is wearing off, and I cling to any new details Dustan can give me. I wish now that I had gone down and seen him but mom says I was right to stay with her, and that I would not want that image in my mind.

Last night mom found an old video. Just one. We have watched it over and over. It’s from 1994. We see now just how beautiful he was then and how much weight dad had lost recently, and how much dexterity and balance and strength. I have never thought so much about heaven as I do now. And how I used to detest those “God is good” clichés but ironically they have never seemed more true. This is the system we live in: people get sick and die. I am only grateful that mom and dad had a magical marriage, that dad loved us practically and wonderfully, that my life and childhood is full to the brim with the stories of trips to the river on hot summer afternoons and sickeningly Walton-ish Christmases. It is the grace of God that Dustan and I have been living here for two months, that mom was not alone through this whole ordeal, and that none of us witnessed the accident. I even find the silver lining in the fact that dad had slowly declined to the point of forcing mom to care for this home and land by herself. She is going to be ok.

We have a thousand stories to tell. They’ll keep going forever. We also have a lot of living left to do, and we will say “wouldn’t Dad have loved this?” and “wouldn’t Jeff be so proud?” and “Boy, Dad would have liked this day” – over and over, and we will wear those phrases out.

I know I won't have the energy to type these details again. I wanted to tell it though because somehow it is very therapeutic for me to tell this story. I know dad would get a big kick out of telling it. If you knew him, you’d know that he would tell it a few times trying to get the words exactly right. And when they fit and he got the story down, he’d tell it again and again the exact same way. He would love to know (and maybe he does) that a few days after the accident, our family took his loathed cane and threw it off the bridge of the river he fished so much in his youth, and was on his way to smell on the night of his death.

We are still going to hike the Appalachian Trail, starting Monday, March 24th. It's nice knowing dad was so amped about this plan. In fact, this is my last post before the hike. From now on you can visit me at my other home on the internet at http://walkingtomaine.blogspot.com.

Much virtual love,
Betsy

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Tue, 26 Feb 2008 20:16:30 GMT

I am not really sure what to say. On Valentine's Day my dad was in a tragic car accident and he was killed instantly. There are a thousand words to say, details to give, thoughts to share.

But for now, Dustan and I are still at home with mom. We are so grateful to have been here for the past two months, and to have been with mom through all the actual trauma. More to come.

We're still gonna hike the AT, but we're not starting it until after Easter rather than the March 1 plan.

Wednesday, December 26, 2007

Wed, 26 Dec 2007 01:17:47 GMT

It's official. I no longer have an internet life. I check my email and I have 88 unread messages. Do you know how crucial it is that I am daily able to receive messages from Loan Consolidators of America and Jamie X*70 who has posted new pictures for me to view? Yeah, so I guess I come back looking around, wondering what all the hype was about when our DSL crapped out. After all, you can always find a spot on the couch with one of the many cans of soda in hand, watch TV, lounge with the fam. Wrap a few presents and take another nap. Who needs Dooce and Ingliseast and Fuglys anyway? It's been nice, this little hiatus from the world of work and routine. The weird part is, I'm not going back any time soon.

I'm in Big Stone Gap, VA where there are big stones in between gaps, but they also have high-speed internet. Christmas is pretty much over except for a traditional girls' breakfast tomorrow morning. I will be passing through no less than 7 coal and small Appalachian towns to get to Cracker Barrell, where I will have the opportunity to eat grits and more country ham if I want it. At some point I'm going to eat a salad and try exercising again. Might be a good idea to try that before I start a 2,175 mile hike in March.

I have a new home now

Tue, 18 Dec 2007 21:21:25 GMT

Well, we made it. Saturday a ton of friends came over and helped us stuff all of our possessions into a U-haul. We threw the canoe on top of the Passat and took flight across the state on Sunday. We drove - but it was so windy we almost flew. The animals did great travelling. When we pulled into Lebanon, seven hours later, so many awesome people were waiting on us with hot chocolate and strong backs.

We got the storage unit packed up, and now, we're squatting at mom and dad's. Internet access is rare. Right now I'm at the Russell County Public Library. I feel like I've been away from my blogroll and email for a month. For the first time in a looooong time, I had country ham and gravy for breakfast. Yesterday I had my teeth cleaned and the dental hygenist told me they sing Jesus, Take the Wheel at their church on a regular basis. I was stunned. You should see Beartown. Bear Town? It's this snowy mountain that looms over the town of Lebanon. How do you get there? Why haven't I ever been there? And has anyone ever hiked to the top with a snowboard on their back? Friday my sis and Mike will come to Hidden Valley, where mom and dad's house is tucked between two hills owned by the Nature Conservancy and the interior won the blue ribbon for number of nativities found in one dwelling. Mrs. Claus made a special trip from the North Pole to award it to mom personally. It snowed while we unloaded our furniture. It's so good to be home.

In flux

Sat, 08 Dec 2007 18:36:57 GMT

Today is the second day of feeling good. On December 5th I woke up with a rash all over my body and a swollen face. More specifically, a pair of collagen-injected Joan Rivers lips and a snout. My face was too tight to allow a smile. It was coincidental that the night before Dustan and I joined our friends at the Great Wolf Lodge Waterpark and I woke up thinking I had contracted scabies from the Racoon Lagoon. I am way too prideful to post pics, although I know if I did the comments would swarm, saying, OMG, Betsy? Are you going to make it? After a shot of steroids in one hip and some liquid Benadryl in the other, I'm starting to regulate. No more swollen glands or tonsils (or face) or sore throat or fatigue - just a slow fading rash. At the end of the day I will say I had acute tonsillitis and an allergic reaction to penicillin.

Have you ever been sick for over 3 weeks? Then to you, I apologize. Come on over in the middle of my packing and take whatever material possession would make you feel better. I have good things laying around. All sorts of remote controls have surfaced. And three years at a radio station will land you a goldmine of random CDs. I've been guilty of taking my uneventful body mechanics for granted, even though I've thought Thank you for my good health in my mind, it hasn't been a sincere wellspring of joy in my heart. Because now I know a little better what it is to have a healthy immune system, and lymph system, and to have all the organs ticking right without having to doubt that they are doing their job, or wonder if there's something you should be doing to help them along a little better. That's a horrible, helpless feeling. So, my door is open.

Now I have a new lease on life. I'm a tiiiny bit itchy, but feelin' good overall. Last night we celebrated Dustan's birthday. He bought a book on CanoeCrafting at Barnes & Noble and we watched August Rush. I won't say much. I will say, a little too much melodrama for me, but laced between amazing music scenes that might inspire me to pick up the violin again. And if you only watch it to see Keri Russell's hair, you won't be disappointed. This morning my wellness (and Prednazone) continues to make me heady with happiness. I'm cleaning my house and starting to pack more seriously. Big emotional things will go into the box - paintings that make the house feel like home, and spatulas that are so essential I just don't know how I'm going to get by this last week without them. It's never time to dismantle. It's going to be such a stripping process hiking the Appalachian Trail, knowing that all you have in the world is strapped into (hopefully) less than 50 pounds on your back.

Suddenly people are starting to question the AT all over again. "Now, are you guys taking off on your hike soon, or is that already over?" "What are you going to do about Trail?" "Are you taking a gun? You're not?!"

I found this chic's blog on her experience of hiking the AT. I love it because 1) she took her dog 2) she made a meticulous list of her gear and 3) it's a very user-friendly website. This is how I expect the weather to be for most of the Trail, because the AT is known as "the rainforest of the East." If you are curious about just what one would take on a journey into the woods for 6 months, read Rachel's gear list here. And for our pup, we're taking something very similar to this. It is such unreality that a walk this long is facing me.

Pop Culture, Take Two, and Christmas wishes

Fri, 07 Dec 2007 19:39:50 GMT

#1 All I want for Christmas is The Office to come back.

This is one of the best bloopers. "Ok, I'm gonna kill you for real now, big tuna."

I just did my Neti pot this morning. It made me think of Dwight, besmurching Jim's gift to Pam.

Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova made it into my world thru the movie Once, (which made it into my world when a record label sent a pirated copy to Amy) and the soundtrack is aaaaaawesome. I wish for them to give me a concert in my living room. They love each other, makes it better.

Lastly, I'm obsessed with this coat.

Best, best, best, best

Fri, 07 Dec 2007 16:13:45 GMT

Yay! I'm so happy. My girl Feist has been nominated for 4 Grammys!

Best new artist
Best pop vocal
Best song "1234"
Best music video

You don't even want to know how many near-death experiences I've had in my car while jamming out to The Reminder. And Open Season - Sis are you the one that gave me all those remixes? It might've been another friend Ben...definitely not Amy. That is another great Feist production.

Things I Love to Look At

Mon, 03 Dec 2007 18:28:48 GMT

In random order.

#1 My sister's nephew on Halloween. Couldn't be happier with himself.

#2 Reese Witherspoon's bangs. Now the highest-paid bangs in female showbiz. $29 million. Yup!

#3 These guys. Because....yeah.

#4 Linds when she was a girl. I can remember feeling exactly like this. Magical swimming.

#5 Something about the choice of climbing shoe...

#6 Parenthood romanticized.

#7 Rachel as Pam, complete with her Office Olympics medals.

To be continued....

A Funk Before the Storm

Sat, 01 Dec 2007 20:54:23 GMT

Still sick. This has been the most prolonged ailment I've ever experienced. I guess I have acute tonsillitis because my mouth looks like this and those sure are my symptoms. I'm on an antibiotic and I'm trying to take good care of myself. You know - staying up late, eating lots of sugar, walking around barefoot outside and biting my fingernails as much as possible.

I had a good Thanksgiving, thanks to my friend Barb:

and the season is changing beautifully here:

I should also share that I'm getting ready to really move now. I mean, for real. In two weeks. I'm feeling a little ... displaced. I'm really excited about moving back to the mountains, where there's one long road through the middle of town and I can add things to my Dad's "tab" in some stores. It will be odd to not have many of the things I've become familiar with at my fingertips. Like J.Crew and concert venues and my job at the Tide. I'm also ready to shake this blasted throat thing so that I feel energized enough to pack and clean, get organized and happy.

Last night we had a party with most of our closest friends in Williamsburg. It was a blast. 3 out of 5 girls are pregnant, and the other one who's not already has a baby. So that leaves me - everyone waiting for us to hike the AT so that we can join the Baby Einstein Club. It's strange, looking at life from this angle. On the precipice of a major jump into Unknowns. Taking life by the handles and shaking it until all that is familiar tumbles out. In place of this life in Williamsburg will come a new location, new climate, new setting, new systems, new friends, new boundaries, new expectations, new schedules, new grocery stores, new driving routes, new jobs. All new. In two weeks, our friends will come and help us load all our possessions into a big U-Haul. I'll take Ruby, stuff the dog and the cat in and the canoe on, and set out 7 hours across the state until I come to a storage unit. By the time Dust and I make it to Hidden Valley (the little piece of home where mom and dad live in the boonies), we'll have just the bare minimum. Venus razor, Bridger's litter box, journals and the camera. Then - we're there. We're there until March when the hike starts.

Speaking of - Bridger is a quite a success. He's gone from this:

to this:

That's him lounging on his Christmas fleece with Smiley Head and Christian Bear. Look at these luscious paws!

Holy cow, he's the cutest. Just a few more pics:

The other morning I heard his basket creaking beside my bed. I guess Dust was up before me and caught Trail trying to be a cat. I think she's jealous of Bridger's set up. The fleece, the basket, the whole nine yards. Here she is, sooo sleepy. I guess she could fit, but not enough room to lay down. I can't believe Dustan finally captured the tongue-curling yawn on film. We love how her head unhinges to gulp around exhaustion. Note that in the second frame, she's cursing her oversized doggyness as an ornamental cat toy hangs brightly by. By pic three, she's trying to sleep sitting up. Nothing annoys Trail more than not being able to find a good spot for sleep.