A friend of mine died. He was not quite in his winter years. He lived a life that was cut short. When someone outlives the human life expectancy of 80 years or so and they are taken by death we usually see it as "they are in a better place" and if they were suffering from a painful and terrible illness or disease, we say "at least they aren't in pain anymore" and "they are no longer suffering".
My friend was suffering. He was a gruff man who called things the way he saw them. He didn't hold back. He had cancer and he fought it for his life. After he won a few battles, it battled back and after a couple of years, it eventually killed him.
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| A visit with Mala at the VA |
His death was actually quite beautiful though. His loved ones gathered around him and stayed with him in his home and they kept vigil over him. They played great music for him and they relayed messages to him when he was coherent enough to understand. Some of his last words to his friends were to turn on your love light and let it shine.
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| Mala and Tucker |
I knew this man for only a couple of years, but his impact and the stories he shared, his courage in life and in death and his love light that shined brightly, influenced me and touched my heart.
In life, Mala, a man who I am honored to call my friend, had one of the greatest friends a man could ever have; his dog Tucker. Tucker was a hiking dog, a companion, and was said to have been part human. When Tucker died a few years ago, Mala had him cremated, and his ashes were close at hand that day.
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| Best friends on Katahdin |
After he passed away in a very loving environment with incense burning and music playing, his hand held by a dear friend, his wish was to also be cremated. His ashes were then mixed with his dogs ashes as had been his request. Most of these ashes were then to be spread on the Appalachian Trail, near a rock across from Roan Mountain in Tennessee.
A small contingent of his friends were tasked with finding "Russell Rock" to carry out these last wishes. Five of us set out with Mala's new best friend, his dog Little Man, in search of this rock with very little information to go by. Needless to say we shared stories and an adventure but we came up short of our goal. It felt a lot like a Vanagoonie adventure out there wandering around, going up and down the trail in search for enigmatic spot that he requested. I was thankful at the time to be able to share the adventure regardless of the outcome. I pictured Mala laughing at us while he sent us out on a somewhat "wild goose chase".
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| Littleman |
That day, in the parking lot something unexpected happened. I was not ready for the mission that was bestowed upon me. I was blindsided and taken back by it, really. I was entrusted with a small urn. One of twelve. When I was asked to shoulder the burden, to carry out a task, one that I saw fit for my friends' ashes, I felt unworthy. Why was I chosen? How was I even on the short list? I did not know.
I welled up with emotion. The urn was heavy in my hand. "What am I supposed to do with this?" I thought to myself...
Since that time I have come to realize that I am finding ways to spend good quality time with my friend. Before he died, I had encouraged him by saying, "When you get better, we'll take a bike ride together." He was fond of cycling. I was sad when news of his passing had reached me. I lamented that we wouldn't be able to go for that ride. However, it turns out, since I have been blessed with this mission, we went for a bike ride in Grand Teton National Park.
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| Grand Teton National Park |
We also toured the country in my little Vanagon and we saw many incredible places. I have since scattered their ashes in countless places of beauty. They rest in both of America's oceans, the Gulf of Mexico, various rivers, on mountain tops, and at a variety of scenic lookouts. They are watching, looking out if you will, at Mount Rainier and Mount Katahdin.
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| Abol Bridge |
