Moving on...

Tomorrow we head back to the T’s camp on Montana creek. All of us who were there on the 4th when Bret and Porter died are going back to finish the day that we had intended to have. An afternoon of playing by the Su river, teaching our little ones to cast, eating lunch, doing crafts, enjoying the hot sun. I know the weather outlook isn’t the most fantastic, but, Universe? could you make an exception for us this one time?!

I have a deluge of thoughts to extract from my brain- not to “blog”, but to journal, to “put down on paper”. To organize, make better sense…and remember. This will not become a grief or trauma blog. What I actually see in my mind is 3 to 4 separate piles of paper, each for a different set of emotions and revelations regarding the deaths of Bret and Porter, his dog. I’m typing this in WORD, not even wanting the Blogger template to interfere. The reason I choose to publish this publically is that I believe if the ripple effect of Bret’s death can touch just one person in a positive way, then it’s ok.

How We Are Doing:
There is a settling entering back into our lives now. The rollercoaster ride of emotions we have experienced over the last 2 weeks seems to be hitting a straight stretch. I see that with time the rollercoaster with all it’s ups and downs and loop-de-loops, with that feeling that you are about to be flung out of your tenuous seating after every turn, will eventually change. The tracks will straighten and adhere firmly to the ground. That little open topped car morphs slowly into a large, heavy , solid train, passengers enclosed safely inside and carried steadily along. NEVER fully protected because even that big solid train can bring danger. Never fully protected but so much better off than on that rickety coaster with our bottoms leaving the seats after every dip. I choose the metaphor of the train, not because I’m a sicko, but because I believe we must have respect for that metaphor for life. Life is grand and magnificent, but let’s not take it for granted…

Our brains have been wrestling with the events of that day, working in over-drive to process what the brain simply does not understand. Unfortunately that progression has included running and re-running those images through our minds, sleepless nights, foggy unorganized days, the shakes overtaking our bodies at times. At first it was incessant. But from experience, I know that it DOES subside. For Dea, who has not yet experienced sudden loss or such an intense trauma, it may be more difficult. Her brain is doing its job but the poor thing doesn’t have much to work with. She’s not a kid who has been desensitized by media. She’s never even seen a horror flick other then IT. Dea says she is still in a state of disbelief. The image-running has calmed down for her but I’m not sure when her brain will get to a place of acceptance, if ever.

Our friend mentioned that when our brain has processed what happened as best as it can, it will file it away. The idea is not to allow that brain to lock it away in a box hidden in the basement. Currently, my own file lays open on my desk…. I’m certain that all of our files will rest in their spot in the filing cabinet someday-organized and out of the way, but there if we need it, for whatever reason. We have spoken to 3 counselors over the phone, one who is a dear friend and Huz’s childhood buddy in Florida. Her specialty is working with children and trauma and she utilizes a technique called EDMR. In a nutshell, it is a physical approach to replicating the Rapid Eye Movement-REM sleep- that helps expedite the painful “processing” that all of our brains are going through. The anger, grief, flashback images, etc. are all the normal process of our brains just trying to make sense of it all in order to tip the scales back to “healthy, content and stable”. She felt it might be helpful in offering us some relief from of our minds forcing this intensity upon us. At this moment, I feel that my brain has calmed a bit and I don’t need the EDMR. When the images come up, there is a sense of deep sadness because my friend was hurt but there is also a somewhat peaceful detachment that wasn’t there before. I do feel bit disturbed when I see something train related.

Poor Huz is having a very difficult time with train imagery. We watched “Slumdog Millionaire” last weekend and the scene when the 2 bother’s are on the train made him so uncomfortable. I looked over at him and was so sad to see how difficult it was for him. And seeing real-life train tracks…trains will never be the same. Huz also had a terrible time with the images, especially at bedtime, but I think things are settling down for him now as well.

I had worried terribly about Dea but I’m thankful that she has been able to break down openly, seek comfort from us and friends, and that she is willing to talk about it and process with others. She does have her limits and we respect when she doesn’t want to talk about it. We just check in now and then to make sure it becomes neither all encompassing nor totally blocked out.

We are still quite sure that Lo did not see the accident. There are many details that Huz and I just do not remember about the accident and immediately after. But Huz remembers quickly tucking Lo’s head into his neck with his hand when he realized that the dog was going to be hit. But she was frightened of the train, she heard the shouting and I know that she registered the immediate silence after and then everyone’s shock, the grown up’s and even the 2 “Big kids” trying to hold it together, the 911 call….all as very terrible. We chose, at first, not to tell her that Bret was also killed-we wanted to protect her since she seemed clueless about it. But a few days later, knowing that we would continue to spend time with these families and that all these people would need to talk about it, we decided to tell her. A counselor said it would be better coming from us rather than the other kids. Lo did not even really know who Bret was or that he was the owner of Porter but we felt that she should understand the sadness that all these people were feeling. Children can be so… extra sensory! She knew something had shifted intensely here at home-you can’t hide that from a child and she deserved to have an understanding and peace.
True to form, Lo began working through the event right away. We must be doing something right as parents because she has had no fear or trepidation when coming to us about her feelings. And I give us a pat on the back for giving her a supportive and open place to process. Not so much anymore, but for the first week she would come to me and say, “Mommy, I want to talk about Porter.” Or “Let’s talk about the train now”. As with most “things” that overwhelm, over stimulate or even hugely amaze her, Lo will become that thing. A couple years ago, when we flew to New Jersey, Lo was both excited by and intimidated by airplanes. It has a big thing for her and for months afterward, she loved to pretend that she was a plane. When she inherited her sister’s 2 wheel bike, she became a “princess bike” for a season or two. These things and/or events are, more often than not, depicted in her art and incorporated in her games. The day after the accident, Lo asked if we could play train. I knew where this was going. It was very uncomfortable but I knew this was very healthy for Lo in her understanding of what happened. She would be the train and I would be Porter the dog. She would run down the trail away from me to get ready and I would slowly and doofily trot away from her. She would then tell me that she was a train that can see ahead and know when to stop. She would run up behind me and put on the breaks before running into me, I would hop off the tracks and everyone would be happy. Throughout the last couple weeks our roles in the game sometimes change and sometimes the train does not stop and then we are sad, but Lo is in control the whole time and that is what she needs to do to best deal with it all.

A few days after the accident, all of the people who were there that day met up at the T’s house for group therapy with a woman who runs a Montessori school in Anchorage and is trained in grief therapy. Turns out she also lives about a mile down the road from us! She was wonderful and informative and I think she really helped the kids to open to what scares them, how they deal with being scared, how it is ok for parents to be scared and sad yet still be able to protect them… Some of the kids were open and bubbly and some were quiet…more grave. She asked them to go and make a drawing of something nice that they remember about Bret to share with everyone. The kids took off and she spoke more with the adults. Lot’s of helpful info and anecdotes but I was disturbed to hear about the “2 month slump”. Often when one has experienced grief and trauma, their body is pumping more adrenalin into the body and it can last for a month or two. Just when you think you are easing back in to life and things are back to normal, when people are no longer asking how you are handling it, the adrenalin leaves and you crash. FYI:Then is the time that a person can be in most need of the love and support of others. As Dea stated on the day of the accident, “Everything happens for a reason.” And I think I know what the “reason” is for me, but I truly hope that the lesson and sense of stillness I have gotten from this is not just adrenalin.

Children are remarkable. The pictures they presented to us ranged from sweet and loving to severe. The T’s daughter, who had a tremendously loving and close relationship with Bret, drew a picture of him finding frogs in the river with the kids. A bright yellow sun shone upon them all. But one little girl’s picture was simple yet dire: just a train track colored in red and orange. All she had to say about it was “Train tracks are VERY dangerous”. As unsettling as this drawing was, I believe it was telling, therapeutic and brave of her to share this with everyone.
Most of Lo’s drawings have depicted a friendly train on friendly tracks with a happy and “smart” Porter and Bret having jumped to safety on top of the train. We will continue with our drawings, and checking in from time to time.

(Porter on top of the happy train and happy tracks)

Tomorrow we all go back. Not to the tracks, of course, but to the camp to continue to experience it as a wonderful gathering place not one of sadness, and to the Little Su river where we were headed to that day. There are also 2 birthdays to celebrate: Dea's 14th, and W, who will be 5. At Bret’s memorial service, (which was one of the most amazing experiences, and I will get to that in another post) I stated that, for me, I felt a very strong need to go back and have the wonderful day that we all had originally set out to have. My last happy memory of that day was the view in front of me before we heard the train whistle. A line of children and their parents all carrying backpacks and little fishing poles, holding hands and heading toward the river. I think we all need that day. And each other. To connect, to remember and honor, and to heal.