Goodbye Gavin.

This morning’s hike provided me an opportunity to be introspective.   There was a recent tragedy in our small town that impacted my son and as a result, me.

One of Gavin’s classmates was killed in a car wreck early this past Sunday morning.  As adults, we have extreme difficulty dealing with death.  As a 15-year-old, learning of another 15 years old’s death, I can only imagine what is going through my son’s brain.

The details of what happened, where, why, etc. are not important.  What is, is the fact that life ended way too early.  The others involved have to live with the results of what happened as three survived, one didn’t.

We went as a family to the viewing yesterday and I was completely blown away by the support.  The town I live in has less than 1000 residents, but I swear it felt like all 1000 were there.  There was a line around the funeral parlor and out the door.  For once I saw a group of people come together for a cause.  No fighting over politics, no debates over religion, sports, anything.  All were there for support.

So back to my hike.  I hit my normal place Mt. St. Francis.  I arrived at 7:45 am to an empty parking lot (no surprise).  I unloaded, grabbed my gear and headed off on a 28-degree morning.  Unlike a majority of people, the cold air refreshes me.  The cold hitting my exposed face is so refreshing to me.  Like the feeling of electricity.  This, in turn, sparks my brain.

I moved along the gravel path toward the large water tower.  Each step reverberated as the rocks below me were frozen and my steps were releasing them from their solid-state.  The sun was slowly rising to my back and I could feel the warmth on the back of my neck.  This too was invigorating.

As I left the gravel and moved onto the defined dirt path my thoughts drifted to my son.  I thought back to when I was his age and ironically I lost a classmate about the same age my son lost his.  I recall the shock of the situation, how similar the circumstances were and what I must have felt at that time.  My mind has clouded over those memories now and I can only try and help my son through this.

I moved deep into the forest and felt the eerie calm that warms my soul.  Only nature can provide this too me.  The familiar path was covered in a blanket of leaves and as I soon discovered the normal path was obstructed by multiple falling trees.  My path today was misdirected multiple times by the destruction of the trees from the recent ice storm.  The serenity brought forth today was needed.

I made my way to the back of the area and stopped to listen to a flowing brook.  I could hear a squirrel off in the distance running from me as well as a gentle breeze blowing the remaining leaves overhead.  These sounds along with a chill in the air led to a state of euphoria for me.  I looked toward the nearby creek and saw a faint layer of mist rising through the trees and disappearing in the sky above.  It felt like a blanket of comfort to me.  Like a hug, I needed at that moment.  After a few minutes, I moved on.  I approached my favorite wooden bridge in this area, stopped to take a shot, and then meandered across.  The deep bellowing thud of my boots on the wooden planks below echoed throughout the canyon.  It reminded me of why I enjoy the winter.  The leaves muffle the sounds, the winter lets them travel.

At the next intersection, I moved right and headed up a hill I have traveled often.  As always I looked for the cairn that I placed there over a year ago and it was still standing.  It brought a smile to my face.  As I ascended the hill my legs felt like waterlogged tree trunks.  Every step was heavy and took a lot of effort.  The wet leaves, hidden roots and loose rocks added to the challenge.  I finally reached the top of the ridge and again saw more toppled trees blocking my path.  With little effort, I was able to crawl over, around or under each one.

I reached another intersection, I moved downhill toward the stream and a bench.  I decided to stop and sit.  I sat, cleared my mind, and soaked it all in.  I heard nothing but a nearby waterfall and the leaves blowing above me.  I sat there for a few minutes thinking about my son Gavin, and his friend Gavin who he lost.  The reasoning of why this had to happen, and how God chooses who dies and when.  Something I can never comprehend.  The bare trees and decaying leaves all around me remind me that we too have our life cycles.  Some are longer like the 125-foot oak tree in front of me or short like the crushed pencil-thin tree I saw lying under a larger falling tree to my right.  Again nature provides the answers, or in this case similarities.  It was not long I heard a twig snap behind me.  I slowly turned around and saw a red fox staring at me.  He, or she, was roughly 50 feet from me, but we locked eyes for what seemed like 2 minutes.  I thought about trying to get a shot, but it was my moment, and I let it go.  I slowly stood up and the fox darted off.  It was my symbol to head up the hill.

I was now at the top of the other ridge and my chest and heart were pumping, but I didn’t stop.  I turned right and made my way toward the lake.  As I was climbing the hill I spooked two deer and one shot out in front of me, crossing my path.  Like a fool, I apologized to her and moved on.

The path to the lake was covered like the rest of the area, but familiarity allowed me to continue and I eventually found myself standing only inches from the lake.  The lake was calm today.  Like a sheet of glass, reflecting the trees from the other side.  This is a calmness I rarely see here, and I stopped to admire the beauty.

The long bridge across the inlet showed signs of other visitors.  I saw these tracks and decided to take a shot.  My assumption is they are fox or raccoon, but I am not sure.  The lined my path to the other side of the pond as I continued.  I was soon within sight in my car and made my way there.

I will leave you with what I overheard Gavin’s grandfather telling a family at the funeral parlor.  He said “all actions have consequences.  Gavin was a consequence that night.”  He pointed to the kids in front of him and said: “if his death makes your decision to not do something stupid, then his consequence was worth it.”   His family paid the ultimate price.  Think before you react.  Think before you make stupid decisions.  Love your family, especially during the holidays when they drive you crazy.  You never know if they will be here tomorrow.

Until next time,

Tim