A history lesson, my friends...
Theodore Roosevelt's first wife and his mother died on the very same day. After going through my own personal journey and tangle with grief, I cannot even imagine the immensity of this grief he must have experienced. He decided to move himself, and just himself, to the Badlands, to regroup, to recoup, and to find himself and to figure out what his "next steps" would be.
This story has always made such an impression on me. I had heard it while performing in the musical and was able to experience the beauty of the savage land myself. I have blogged numerous times about the impact this area of North Dakota has made on my life. The life-long friendships I created there, while performing under its starry skies. The crazy stories of adventures into the Badlands at night to hike and reach out and touch the stars. The wonderful people I met while working out there. The opportunities I was provided by performing out there.
Years and years ago, right after my Mom's awful divorce from her second husband and shortly after I came out, I thought it would be a wonderful idea to head to Medora and the Theodore Roosevelt National Park for a weekend. It was my hope that it would be a rejuvenating weekend. Little did I know that it would be a life moment that would forever change my life, my focus, my thought process and I think, hope, and pray, that it was as important for her as well. We went out to see the Musical, we stayed at the Badlands hotel, we ate downtown at the Roughrider Hotel, we had ice cream, we shopped...it was a wonderful weekend. I decided to see if she would be open to going hiking in the Badlands. We could go for a drive and take in all the wonderous sights...but I wanted to get back out into the hills that made such and impression on me those years ago...
She agreed.
We got into the park and I remember going immediately to the trail for a hike...she was open to going onto the trail...which had mildly shocked me...she was always afraid of heights...we began our hike and taking in all the breezes, taking in all the natural beauty and then I saw this rock off to the left side...I asked her if she would want to go climb up to that rock and sit for awhile and just take it all in. She agreed and we climbed up. These are the photos we took of the event and they quickly became my favorite photos of all time...I cherish these photos with all my heart. It was a shared moment that I would later print out and have framed for her stating, "This is our moment. The moment of looking out over these vast Badlands but seeing only the potential of what is to come. The possibilities are truly endless. Forward from here. Onward."
I have this photo in my classroom today and share this story with my kiddos every year because of this idea of ENDLESS POSSIBILITIES. I love that concept.
Jump years and years and years ahead. Our lives have moved forward and we have experienced much. Grief came knocking on the door and I found myself succumbing to its grasp. My confidante and closest friend had departed for somewhere far away, out of grasp, and I was left to figure out how to navigate without her guidance. I know that in the back of my mind and on my heart, I would eventually find solace and peace of mind and heart back in the land that Theodore Roosevelt found so many years ago.
And this was one of the things that became extremely important on my personal check list...I needed to find that rock, go back there for her, in remembrance of that one particular afternoon in the Badlands and leave a memorial out there for her. For the endless possibilities. For my heart and mind. I needed to find it to connect with her.
I got up early in the morning, got dressed, got in the car and headed to the entrance to the park. I paid my fee and began my journey. I put the music I had prepared for my trip into the CD player and began to trek into the park. It was the music from her service, the special music she had asked for...It was the music I sang into her ear as she left this world and it brought back such sweetness...but also such incredible sadness and tears.
I came to the familiar fork in the road...but all of a sudden could not remember which way was the right way to turn. I decided to go right. I did not grab a map. I was here until I found our rock. Shortly after the turn, I quickly realized that this was a wrong turn...but I decided to go forward and take in the early morning beauty of the park. AND BOY HOWDY...it as AMAZING. The buffalo were out in full splendor...the witty prairie dogs were out convening with each other...the sun made all of the striations on the buttes pop out even more.
In the back of my mind, I could not remember what the name of the trail was....it had been so long ago and me without a map. So I drove until I saw something familiar.
I stopped at Wind Canyon, thinking this was the spot, and got my sunscreen on, my backpack out, my hat on and shoes tied and began to the hike. I quickly began to realize that none of this looked familiar...was nothing like our photographs. SO after taking some time to take in the view, I got back in the car.
I drove a little while longer and actually drove past the true hiking trail but after a turn around at the fork in the road, I came back and parked the convertible. I got myself back together and began the hike. I knew that the rock was on the left hand side of the trail. I began to look and look but nothing looked familiar. It had been such a long time and I began to doubt myself as to how far it actually was. But I HAD TO FIND IT. I was not going to turn around. I began to see nothing on the left looking familiar but everything on the right was as it had been in the picture. I turned over my left shoulder and there it was and I immediately felt the tears well up in my eyes. I stood there and waited for the emotions to pass. They subsided and I began my climb to the rock.
It was very steep and I remember saying out loud, "Dang Mom, I am so impressed you and I made it up this"
I struggled my way to the point and just sat down on the rock, laid back, and gasped for breath, trying to calm myself, mostly out of exertion from being out of shape and of all the emotions I felt in the moment. I got my breathing down and then just laid there and sobbed. I had made it and I could feel her everywhere.
I sat on the rock and took in the view and journalled in my journal my thoughts being in this moment, at this time, so close to her and to this wonderful memory of what we had shared so long ago at this point. Thoughts were all about gratitude...for this moment, for our relationship, for my Mom and all she meant to me, to her family, to her friends.
Moments passed. Flew by actually.
I got my bearings and decided that I would go up the hill/butte behind the rock to leave my requiem to her. It was perfect...overseeing the Badlands as well as the rock. It was a place we had not climbed to but yet it seemed perfect.
I got up there and took in the view and it was glorious.
I got out my letter I had written to her and slowly pushed myself forward, through my tears, to read it to her. I had brought trinkets of hers inside a red Zip-lock baggy. I had brought a locket I had purchased for this very moment.
The entire top of the hill was covered in red scoria, this burnt rock that is signature to the area. I dug down into the scoria and found dirt and dug farther. I folded up my letter, put it back in the baggy, and took some of the dirt and scoria chips from the bottom of the hole and placed it into the locket and closed it tightly. I laid the baggy into the earth, offered a prayer for Mom up to the universe, and then began to bury it, finally piling scoria and rock on top to protect the important contents.
I sat up there and documented it all with photos for remembrance and just took in the view. And it was breathtaking. I felt that I had achieved something very important...not only for myself but also for my mom and I.
The hours had flown by in a blur. I packed up my belongings and began my descent. And I felt lighter. I felt peace in my heart for the first time in a very long time and even more gratitude. I had accomplished what I had set out to do and I felt Mom every step of the way.
Grief is such a crazy journey friends. And what is so weird is that it is so different for each of us. I hope and pray that when the time comes for you to go down this avenue of life, that you have a mountaintop experience where you can come to some sort of peace. A lightness of heart. A sense of accomplishment and a moving forward.
What a journey this all turned out to be. A lot of time to collect my thoughts. A great moment to reconnect with family and friends. A chance to regroup and find a small sense of closure. Looking back on everything, it was perfect. Everything was as "she would want it" and I feel a strong sense of completion in begin able to do this for her. For myself. For my family.
Kindness on my heart and reconnecting with a strong sense of gratitude at all times. Finding peace on the heart, and follow the path and course of loving everyone as fully and as deeply as you possibly can. Nothing is guaranteed in life and you have to live each moment as fully as you possibly can...take time to enjoy the journey...the drive can get blurry if you get going too fast.
On the way home, I want to think that Mom had arranged a wonderful, dramatic, breath-taking, beautiful road trip finale...I mean come on...all of this in a 14 hour drive? AMAZING.
And make sure your life is a 
Jump ahead to August 5, 2017. Many conversations had, many decisions made, and how perfect that on her birthday, we were able to all come together and remember her life, celebrate all that she had given us, and bury her ashes. I made sure to have some of her ashes pulled for two small heart urns that matched hers for Steve and I...also making sure that those who wanted some of her ashes would get some.
A life well lived
So many years ago, a little boy slowly descended the ravine into an amplitheatre built there. The benches were rough, the path down was long, and the experience was magical. We, as many North Dakotans, went to this musical every year. That little boy was in awe of the music, the dancing, the live horses, the stories being told, the history lesson brought to life, the fireworks. It was all amazing to his little mind and he just sat there year after year taking it all in, vowing one day to try and become a part of it all...Jump ahead to a cold February morning...this little boy...now off to his first year of college...hopped a plane to head to Minneapolis for an audition. He was so green behind the ears...not even sure I remember the audition song or the dance routine...but I remember the feeling of getting that call from Fred Smith those many years ago, telling me that I would be a Burning Hills Singer that summer. And that opened the door to a vast amount of adventures, terrific memories, life stories, WONDERFUL friendships that have withstood the tests of time, and experiences beyond compare. From working in the town of Medora during the day, to clogging on HUGE moths on the stage under the starry skies, to mice having babies in your boot found right before you have to go on, to rainouts, to the parties back in Belfield...our home away from home...with folks who quickly became dear friends...
It is a little jarring to go back and see their Ticket Booth Building at the top of the Hill. Lots and lots of photos and memories of past productions...over 50 years worth of photos and costumes and memorabalia. I say jarring as they have lifesize cut-outs of my very first year during our clogging routine.
They are magnificent and grand.
And the more I look at that list...the more, at various times in my life, I know that this represents my parents. I am so grateful for their gift of life, for leading me in the proper directions, for nurturing me, for taking care of me and making sure I had everything I would need, for guiding me in faith, for showing me I am strong enough, and for giving my the foresight to "Go it Alone" but to be grateful for the journey.
I also felt like we needed a little levity from the moment...So here are a few selfies taken at the Buffalo Sculpture on the Heritage Center grounds on the Capitol Grounds in Bismarck. I took my husband to see the Heritage Center back for my twentieth high school reunion and we took a couple of goofy photos here at this sculpture...so I snapped a few more to send to him and the friends who were with us that day many years ago...It made all of us giggle.
His name is Buffy. And we have joked in the past that that I have left my now husband for someone bigger, someone brawnier, and someone beefier.
This story has always made such an impression on me. I had heard it while performing in the musical and was able to experience the beauty of the savage land myself. I have blogged numerous times about the impact this area of North Dakota has made on my life. The life-long friendships I created there, while performing under its starry skies. The crazy stories of adventures into the Badlands at night to hike and reach out and touch the stars. The wonderful people I met while working out there. The opportunities I was provided by performing out there.
In the back of my mind, I could not remember what the name of the trail was....it had been so long ago and me without a map. So I drove until I saw something familiar.
I stopped at Wind Canyon, thinking this was the spot, and got my sunscreen on, my backpack out, my hat on and shoes tied and began to the hike. I quickly began to realize that none of this looked familiar...was nothing like our photographs. SO after taking some time to take in the view, I got back in the car.
I drove a little while longer and actually drove past the true hiking trail but after a turn around at the fork in the road, I came back and parked the convertible. I got myself back together and began the hike. I knew that the rock was on the left hand side of the trail. I began to look and look but nothing looked familiar. It had been such a long time and I began to doubt myself as to how far it actually was. But I HAD TO FIND IT. I was not going to turn around. I began to see nothing on the left looking familiar but everything on the right was as it had been in the picture. I turned over my left shoulder and there it was and I immediately felt the tears well up in my eyes. I stood there and waited for the emotions to pass. They subsided and I began my climb to the rock.
I struggled my way to the point and just sat down on the rock, laid back, and gasped for breath, trying to calm myself, mostly out of exertion from being out of shape and of all the emotions I felt in the moment. I got my breathing down and then just laid there and sobbed. I had made it and I could feel her everywhere.
I got my bearings and decided that I would go up the hill/butte behind the rock to leave my requiem to her. It was perfect...overseeing the Badlands as well as the rock. It was a place we had not climbed to but yet it seemed perfect.
The entire top of the hill was covered in red scoria, this burnt rock that is signature to the area. I dug down into the scoria and found dirt and dug farther. I folded up my letter, put it back in the baggy, and took some of the dirt and scoria chips from the bottom of the hole and placed it into the locket and closed it tightly. I laid the baggy into the earth, offered a prayer for Mom up to the universe, and then began to bury it, finally piling scoria and rock on top to protect the important contents.
The first night we were there, Moni, Jen and I put the top down on Mom's convertible and we drove around Bismarck to see how much it had changed. We found old haunting spots, heading to the ole Capitol grounds to take goofy pictures. We actually drug Main, and went to Big Boy for a chocolate shake, a pizza burger flying style, and a Hot-n-Tot and more. 
We then had a gathering together of old high school choir buddies...a reunion of sorts...and it was WONDERFUL to see old friends and here again, pick up where we had left off. We shared fond memories. We laughed. We cried. We shared stories each of us had somehow forgotten and it was glorious. We reveled in each other's lives and how much we had changed and yet hadn't. Isn't that funny how that is?
