Sojourn to Death Valley

It's the sort of event I have a difficult time putting into words. How does it feel to wake up with the thought, "I'm spreading my husband's ashes today"? That is exactly the thought I had on the morning of October 17th, or more correctly, "I can't believe I'm spreading my husband's ashes today." Literally. No ceremony with friends and family gathered around a spot with a third party holding the container (who does such a thing for a living?), but me personally, complete with the irony of a slight breeze shifting to follow my every move. I found by the time I had finished my legs and shoes had the lightest of dustings from the ashes. Emptiness is the only word that comes to mind. An empty feeling within me that can't be filled by thoughts or words. No way to give voice to this experience. But the image of that spot will stay with me always, along with the stunning views of the desert there.

Logistically, the trip went like this: Sarah and Aaron and I all met at LAX on Wednesday, Oct. 15, where we rented a car, found a taco truck for some late night burritos and tacos, and made our way to Beverly Hills, where we spent the night with Carol and David. Woke up the following morning and made our way to Death Valley, just under five hours away, after stopping at the grocery store. We stayed at the hotel at Stovepipe Wells in the park. That afternoon we explored the sand dunes near our hotel and had an early night.

We awoke Friday morning to head to the mouth of Titus Canyon, located on the road to Scotty's Castle. There, a 20 mile dirt road leads out to the Nevada border. About 6 miles up this road there is a small spring, evident by cattails and tall grass, and a rock just off the road that has ancient petroglyphs. We hiked in the 6 miles, spent about a half an hour or so there to spread his ashes and just sit, and turned around to return the six miles.

For the rest of the afternoon, Sarah and I enjoyed the spring-fed pool at the Furnace Creek Inn while Aaron explored Zabriskie Point in the late afternoon light. We spent Saturday similarly: this time, we managed to get up to see the sunrise, and then explored a few sites such as Badwater Basin (the lowest geographical point in North America) and Dante's View overlooking the valley. After a picnic lunch, Sarah and I again enjoyed the pool and Aaron found yet another trail to explore. His photos of the weekend are stunning. I've posted some, too; which you can see here or by going to the link titled More Photos at the right. No comparisons, please!

There was a simplicity to the weekend, of the actual event that I found deeply comforting. I think I would have been a mess if we would have made a ceremony of it. The week prior was difficult enough as I anticipated it. The weekend was complete with an invigorating hike up to the top of Wildrose Peak on Sunday morning, an eight mile hike that gained about 2000 feet in elevation. I wasn't too sure my worn out, out of shape body could make it, so it felt doubly fulfilling to reach the top. To look out over the valley and remember Joshua there.

Here, I think, is where Joshua's adventure ends, and therefore, my postings to this blog. He has gone on to something else, somewhere else. Or, perhaps as was his belief, he is simply gone. I am working to go on as well. Honestly, I am having a pretty good go at it, getting myself put back together. As I look back over the last five months, I realize how much I needed to disengage for a while, to recover from the previous months.

As I move forward, I begin to see how much my life has been forever changed by this experience. Not only my life with Joshua, marked by a love so deep and a partnership so unique that he will always be a part of me, but also the witnessing of his life coming to an end. And my acceptance of the love and support of so many people. As strange as it may sound, I am a better person because of this. I cannot say thank you enough to all of you for the prayers, visits, love, food, warm thoughts, letters; for reading this blog and staying present with us through the very end. I wish for all of you the love, kindess and laughter that Joshua brought to this world.

I'm pretty late in getting this posted. I've been home from New York for two weeks but have somehow not found - or taken - the time to write. Last week was a little rough for me, but more on that later.

My ten days in New York was busy, just like the city. Saw a lot of old friends and had plenty of time to do what I love to do most there - walk. Just to wander the streets, especially in Brooklyn, where we lived. Our last apartment there was in Park Slope on a tree-lined street with classic brownstones, lots of great little stores and within a few blocks of Prospect Park (cousin to the better known Central Park). And yes, lots of memories of Joshua everywhere. Having dinner in our neighbor's garden, I could look up at our old bedroom window next door and remember our last two years there (I think my favorite years of all my time in New York). Walking past the dog run in Madison Park, where he and I would meet at the end of my work day at Credit Suisse. Central Park, where he ran and we had many a picnic. Union Square with the giant farmer's market and Barnes and Noble, where he worked for six years, at one end. Ali Baba Turkish restaurant, a favorite hole-in-the-wall place that is now rather upscale with a back garden.

I met with a small group of about eight friends in Central Park on that first Sunday I was in town. The weather was amazingly gorgeous and warm. Meeting in Shakespeare's Garden was perfect - a little grove at the top of a stairway, tucked away from the Sunday crowds. It was a very casual afternoon - Tracy brought some wonderful wine; Cha Cha and Liz brought buttery rich cookies from everyone's favorite Italian bakery, Veniero's; Erasmia, as always, concocted a delicious pasta salad; and to top it off, Jennifer brought one of Joshua's favorites, Peep's. Halloween-themed pumpkins that, like the traditional Easter bunny Peep's are nauseatingly sweet. We all toasted with a Peep in his memory.

I was surprised at going through a bit of culture shock when I arrived. The noise, in particular really got to me. Staying in Manhattan was pretty intense because of that noise and the high energy that hits you as soon as you step outside. It was so soothing to come up from the subway in Brooklyn, where life is much calmer and quieter. It took me a couple of days to adjust; a big difference from being there last year when I immediately felt at home and soaked up all of that high-octane energy. So, with all that said, it is very doubtful that I would actively look for work there. I think a lot of people have expected that I would plan a move back, but as I keep saying, unless someone literally calls me with a job offer - not a job to apply for, but an actual offer, with excellent pay, I have no plans to go back.

On that note, I have begun the dreaded job search. OK, I've sent a handful of emails to some old contacts, sent in one resume and created a list of calls/emails I should make. Hardly a committed hunt at this point, but baby steps are something. I know the routine of getting up for a job will be good for me. One thing I have learned is that I need structure and routine. Just like Jackson, who is strangely sensitive to my moods. Although instead of comforting me when I'm really upset, he tends to hide. So much for licking my tears!

He hid quite a bit last week, as we both found me in tears at least once a day. Oh, one time he did come over and sniff me before running off to burrow under the dresser in the bedroom. The cause for the tears - aside from the obvious? Anticipation, I suspect. Once again, dreading an upcoming event that will probably pass without incident. On Thursday of this week, I will be in Death Valley with Sarah and Aaron (my sister and her husband). Our goal for this pilgrammage will be to spread Joshua's ashes in a place he selected in the park a year ago.

It was a bit of a compromise, this desert spot. His first choice was to have me take him to some far off place, preferably along the ancient Silk Route - an area through Asia that he had always wanted to visit. I feared he'd wind up sitting permanently in the closet until I got the money and courage to take such a trip solo, so Death Valley became a good alternative. He'll rest next to a small petroglyph along a dirt trail. Interestingly, when we were there last year to visit this spot, we met a man who had scattered his partner's ashes in the park. I knew then we were making a good choice.

I hope everyone (and by that, I mainly mean family and close friends) will understand my need to do this so privately. I probably shouldn't be so concerned about it. I guess the caregiver part of me wants to be mindful of everyone else's needs. A few friends have asked about joining us, but I've felt strongly about just the three of us going. My sister has been a rock for me through all of this, and I trust once again she will be exactly the support I need for this. I know that Joshua would have wanted this done as a solitary - or near solitary gesture. It's very fitting for how he lived his life, a lone figure for much of it with his wide network of loved ones surrounding him from a distance.

Thursday, September 18

My anticipation of this day was worse, much worse, than actually getting through the day. It would have been our ninth anniversary. I filled the day with activities, ending with a wonderful dinner out with our cousin in Sausalito. And now I don't have to face it for another year.

I leave for New York tomorrow. I'm planning to get together with a group of friends in Central Park this Sunday at 1:00 for a little potluck picnic. We'll be at Shakespeare's Garden on the west side of the park for anyone who might be in the city. I wanted to do something in Joshua's memory for our friends there but didn't have it in me to do an actual service of any sort. Central Park was, as I've said before, Joshua's favorite place to run. We spent many a Sunday afternoon there, going for a run and sitting with sandwiches from a nearby deli and the New York Times.

It turns out that Sunday, the 21st, will also mark four months since Joshua's passing. I look forward to the time when that monthly marker doesn't bring me to tears. One of those instances when I'm humming along just fine, enjoying life, and then boom! I fixate on the date and what it signifies. It will be even better now to be spending the day with friends in a beautiful place in a wonderful city.

Not as organized as I thought

OK, clearly, Joshua was the one who kept our little household going. I just cleaned the place for the first time since July and only because I was expecting company (granted I have been out of town most of the summer, but still). I have clutter everywhere. I'm down to doing the dishes once every day or two - don't tell Mabel! I'm perpetually late; the worst was when I arrived at a friend's barbeque an HOUR late. I occassionally forget to feed Jackson in the evening. And, I just realized I've forgotten which button to push to buzz people into the building. So if you come to visit, you'll need to wait in the freezing wind for me to come down six flights of stairs to let you in. I have yet to re-hang pictures in the bedroom and my summer goals of getting the closets cleaned out and scanning all of Joshua's slides are far from getting accomplished.

But I did have a fabulous time in Hawaii doing essentially nothing. Have a pretty good tan, too, and had so much fun spending time with Jason and Kathleen. They have the ultimate cushy job of performing three shows a week with Norwegian Cruise Lines while sailing around the Hawaiian islands.

One of these days I have to start job hunting, because the CIA pension fund doesn't seem to be coming through (Joshua's family will understand this reference). First, though, I'll be making a trip to New York to goof off some more, visit friends and hopefully see some great dance concerts. The weather should be perfect, September being one of the best months of the year.

It's been so long since I've written. I'm not even sure who may still be checking in on this. Of course, Joshua's adventure with us is over, although my own, new adventure begins. Perhaps that is one reason I haven't written.

I've spent July and August squirreled away in Placerville, staying with Dean and Jennifer. With so many lazy days enjoying the sunshine, it's hard to know where the time goes. My days are spent taking Jackson for early morning walks, reading, writing in my journal, enjoying a glass or two (or more) of wine with Jennifer, going out to dinner or a movie. Really, the life of leisure.

I've made a couple of weekend trips back to San Francisco to see friends and check on the apartment. I never get over the cold summers there. One weekend saw a 40 degree difference in temperatures between Placerville and San Francisco. Needless to say, I caught a cold immediately.

I'm looking forward to getting re-situated in San Francisco in the fall, but not before doing a bit more traveling in September. And yes, I do plan to stay in SF at least for the next year, if not longer. It's become home to me and I am enjoying my circle of friends and having family nearby. Besides, I can't fathom such a major transition as a move right now.

Other than that, I haven't been doing much. I am doing quite well, in spite of everything. To be honest, Joshua was so sick for so long that I have to admit to feeling a certain freedom now that he is gone. I can get out whenever I want and no longer feel the weight of worry holding me down. I hope people can understand this, as I know it might sound a bit harsh. I have to believe Joshua has complete freedom now as well. Free from pain and free from any fear of the unknown.

I wanted so much to get up at Joshua's service to speak. Of course, the day was so much for me that it wasn't possible. If I had been able to, I would have said this about him:

He made me a better person, a kinder person. He was my world - my partner, my lover, my best friend, my teacher, my inspiration. He grounded me, taught me to slow down, literally showed me the world. He valued family and friendship as much as he loved getting completely lost within the crowds in an out of the way country. He embodied a commitment to living in the moment, and through our time together and in living through his illness with him, I learned at least a little bit how to do this.

And to all of you I would have thanked you from the bottom of my heart. I do thank you, I thank you for keeping him alive through your collective memory. I was a part of his life for a relatively short time, and he lived at least three lives before we even met. So many of you carry pieces of those lives with you. Your memories of him as a young boy, in the Army, in college, living, working, traveling around the world complete the picture of who he is. Who he was. I am honored to have gotten to know each of you through him and to be a part of your lives.

Joshua's service

I've had a difficult time bringing myself to sit down to write. I'm not really sure where the days go, but it is easy to let them all pass by. Last weekend was filled with time with family. Nearly everyone had left by Monday but I was lucky to have Sarah here until Wednesday evening. She helped me sort through Joshua's clothes and get most of them off to Goodwill. A task I didn't want to do on my own, although with her here I got through it okay.

Last week's service still runs over and over in my mind. It was such a beautiful day despite the cold temperatures and clouds. I wasn't so sure I would actually be able to get through it. In fact, I was threatening to sit the whole thing out on the beach while friends and family carried on without me. I suppose the cold weather convinced me that sitting inside would at least be warmer.

There were about 60 of us who gathered at old Fort Cronkhite, now the Headlands Institute, at Rodeo Beach. All of Joshua's cousins were there, as were two of his brothers. Friends came from as far away as Hawaii and Virginia and spanned his childhood to our move here. Included in that friends category were our nurse, social worker and spiritual care counselor from hospice. My family was represented by my three siblings, brother-in-law, my father and stepmother and my stepfather, as well as two aunts and an uncle. I dearly missed having my mom here, but she is still in Houston receiving treatment for leukemia. My sister stood in her stead not only my rock but also my organizer. She and my brother Keith planted themselves on either side of me during the service, held each of my hands and wouldn't let go. My oldest brother Scott was essentially my security detail for the day. At 6'4" he fit the part and spent the afternoon keeping an eye on me.

With so many people there and feeling quite numb to the whole thing, I found I really only spoke with people who happened to be in front of me. I didn't have the clarity to take time to speak with so many who came from so far. I do regret not havng the chance to speak to many of Joshua's cousins, for example. Perhaps another happier time in the near future. Joshua's family was so important to him and I don't want those connections to slip away.

As for the service itself, it was held on the second floor of an old army barracks building. We arranged the chairs so everyone sat facing a wall of windows that looked out onto Rodeo Beach and the ocean. As the service carried on, we could watch the waves coming in and hear the fog horn blowing in the distance. We had an "alter" at the front of the room (the picture posted on June 14) with all of Joshua's religious things including a few additions that overseas friends have since sent. Carolyn, the spiritual care counselor from Hospice by the Bay, led the service, giving a moving welcome to everyone. It was touching to know that Joshua so positively impacted the lives of all of our hospice care team in the short time they were able to know him. Mabel gave a eulogy, clearly showing where Joshua developed his knack for telling a story. In particular, she shared her story of going on a camping safari in Kenya with Joshua in the late seventies. She had everyone laughing at the memory of her guarded enthusiasm for such an adventure. Just as she had my Aunt Carol and I in stitches on May 21. It was, I believe, the same story she was sharing with us at the moment he died.

We had a military honor guard present military honors and a flag. It was something I had not given much consideration until a friend pointed out how important it might be to Mabel and the rest of Joshua's family. Joshua's military life was so long before our life together that it was difficult for me to fully appreciate its role in his life. While his experience in Vietnam clearly impacted the course his life took, more so, I think, than he ever acknowledged, it was something he rarely discussed with me. It felt to me that this short ceremony brought his life full circle.

In addition to a few readings, which I'll try to post here, we invited people to share stories of Joshua. What was so beautiful and noted by many there was the throughline in everyone's memories of him. He was who he was for his entire life with everyone he knew; he was not the type of person to present one side of his personality to one friend and another side to someone else. His humor, in both good and bad taste, his sense of adventure, his caring spirit were constants in all of his interactions.

We closed the service with Green Day's song, Good Riddance. I had thought for months of using the song at this time and was pleased when Joshua gave approval, as it were. The lyrics fit his life and this journey in particular:

Another turning point
A fork stuck in the road.
Time grabs you by the wrist
Directs you where to go.
So make the best of this test
And don't ask why.
It's not a question
But a lesson learned in time.
It's something unpredictable
But in the end is right.
I hope you had the time of your life.

So take the photographs
and still frames in your mind.
Hang it on a shelf in
Good health and good time
Tattoos of memories
and dead skin on trial.
For what it's worth
It was worth all the while.
It's something unpredictable
But in the end is right.
I hope you had the time of your life.

I starled myself at how deeply the song hit me given that I had been listening to it for months with this moment in mind. So perhaps in the end it was good that I didn't spend the hour sitting on the beach. Perhaps it really was the closure I needed. At least for now.