Monday, February 18, 2013

*Life is in the journey!* ~ Three Pines in a Sunbeam


Life's Inspirational Valiant Endeavors

~ Three Pines in a Sunbeam ~

 Dad’s Colorado
1946 ~ 2012

For several months now I've been pretty quiet here in this space; not knowing how to speak of Life's Inspirational Valiant Endeavors. Not a clue where to begin. And so I've done simply what my spirit and my body have encouraged me to do... Just be. We go about the business of living caring for our children, our homes, our careers, ourselves. And when change happens, we adjust. Well, hopefully we adjust. Our only other option is to wither away... and that is not living.

This past October my childhood fantasies brutally clashed with reality. In one surreal moment, I learned that my dad had taken his own life. There would be no last great rumble with a man-eating bear in the wilds of Alaska, nor would the ocean swallow him up and spit him out onto a tropical island somewhere to live out his days as a castaway, an adventurer, a man among men.That was my dad, after all... Robinson Crusoe. Bigger than life! As a kid, the myth was just easier to live with. Reality was too... well, too real. 

The reality was my father suffered his entire life with, what I believe was, undiagnosed Bipolar Disorder. As anyone who's lived with a family member who has this disease knows ~ If one suffers, all suffer. I don't know firsthand how medication or therapy might have worked for my dad. Though he absolutely knew he was suffering from severe depression throughout his life, he refused to acknowledge that he had a problem he couldn't fix on his own. His life choice tore apart, piece by piece, what he might have held onto with those he loved; and ultimately even the relationship with his children. I loved my dad dearly, but if I've learned anything from my experience it is that misery loves company, and to save a drowning victim you lend a hand, most certainly your pride... but not your life by jumping into deep water after them, no matter how desperately one wishes to do so. My own happiness rode on my discovery that I am worth more than that. 

My dad was life in fast forward; always searching for that one thing that would make him feel more alive and less alone with his own thoughts. His journey was ripe with enthusiasm, adventure, a passion for spirituality, and... an overwhelming fear of loneliness and boredom. Though painful at times, I am incredibly thankful for the love he was willing to share with me. There are some lessons in this life, whether we think we needed them or not, that are simply too precious to ignore. 

I joined my brother on a mountaintop in Colorado just before Christmas to spread our dad's ashes among three pines in a sunbeam. Saying good-bye wasn't the hardest part for me. It was heading back down that mountain. That last step in the grieving process doesn't come easy. I guess that's where I am now... trying to find acceptance. Let me just say, it sucks. Everything is not alright. Opportunity is missing. But I know from experience that that too will change. I no longer have the luxury of debating whether or not I should try again with my dad. What's done is done. The question I ask myself now is, Was I true to myself, as only I can be?  And that my friends is a path we must all eventually take

*Don't give up on yourself*

"In the path of our happiness 
shall we find the learning for which we have chosen this lifetime." 
~ Richard Bach, Illusions

Love My Friends
... and happy learning!

“The best way out is always through.”
~ Robert Frost


  1. I am going to have to come back and read this again and then, perhaps, I can comment more fully.

    Today is my father's birthday and I'm not having an easy time of it. I'm struggling pretty hard at the moment.

    So for now, I'll just say that I'm glad you're alive, Scarlett. I'm glad you're here.

    1. Thinking of you, Em.
      Love! and a Warm ((hug))

  2. Oh Scarlett, I'm so sorry. You write the truth so beautifully here. I pray you can find comfort. Go easy on yourself. *hugs*

    1. Thank you for the support, Catherine.