Don beside a Redwood along Prairie Creek in California in October 2006.
Today is that day. As of today, it’s been 15 years since Don died and life alone with my dogs began. A couple of weeks from now is our 49th anniversary, so I’ve now spent more than a third of what should have been our time together, living alone. It’s been a pretty strange 15 years of existence. If you haven’t been there, you wouldn’t really get it even if I tried to explain how it feels. Suffice to say that things didn’t turn out anything like what we had hoped and planned for. In spite of the debacle, I’ve tried to make the best of it. I can’t say it’s been easy and, as I get older, I know that life will just become more difficult. However, there’s not much point in dwelling on that reality. I just try to keep on keeping on in the company of my canine tribe.
Anyhow, it’s sort of customary for me to put down a few words on this anniversary, so this is it.
Due to some computer troubles a few weeks ago, I have had to move photo files around on storage drives. Of course, that got me looking at photos from the past 23 or so years since I went all digital. I’ve also been doing some work on my old blogs — cleaning up broken links and doing a bit of editing here and there. And then I started up this new blog. All of this to say that I’ve had occasion to look at a lot of photos from the past and also read many old blog posts from before and after Don’s death in 2008. It’s been both good and sad by times.
Brown Pelicans along the Pacific coast near the Klamath River estuary.
One thing that came out of all of this is that I’m so glad that Don made the trip out west to spend time with me in the final week of my month long autumn photography travels in 2006. I took him to see all of my very favourite places along the Pacific coast, and in the Redwoods. The Brown Pelicans were migrating along the coast at the time, and it felt like we were part of the crowd as we went from beach to beach, meeting up with them again and again, watching them diving, fishing, and flying in strings, so close to the water that, at times, they would disappear behind the waves.
Brown Pelicans skimming over the waves as they head southward along the Pacific coast.
We went up some of my favourite rivers like the Chetco, the Winchuk, Illinois and the Smith. Spent time camped on shoals or in the redwoods where I prepared some of what, I’ve been told, are my legendary fire-cooked dinners made with fresh California produce. And we spent a couple of days of quality time with our good friends, Paul and his father, Bill.
Don beside the Smith River
Don sitting beside the Illinois River in the Siskiyou region of southwest Oregon.
We visited some of my favourite trees in the Redwoods like the Corkscrew tree, and a particular Redwood along Prairie Creek. Such a tree. So fortunate that it was never felled after having a springboard stuck in its side.
Don with the big Redwood along Prairie Creek.
So, yes, I have been looking at those October 2006 photos and thinking a lot about that autumn trip as well as a number of other autumns spent wandering around in Oregon and California. That part of the continent means a lot to me – it is an integral part of my personal mythology. The 2006 trip seems particularly precious — almost like some last marker point at which all was still normal and good. Within a couple of years, Don became ill and died. Then Bill. Then our dog, Sabrina. Then my mom. Then Sage(1) and Shelby. And then my friend, Paul, died this summer. Other friends as well. All gone.
Don on a beach near Crescent City in northern California.
Well, at least we had that very special time out west. When I left home and began travelling out west with my dogs after Don died, I revisited all of those places – and have done so again a couple of times over the years. It wasn’t easy to return, but it was something I needed to do. Sometimes I feel like going back one more time, but I’m sure it would all feel very different as it’s been quite a few years. Things were already starting to change the last time I was there. Oceanview condos starting to crop up all over. Also, the network of friends that always felt like a series of safe port-of-calls across the continent, is pretty much in tatters now that almost all are gone. I expect that wandering around would feel rather empty and weird.
Well, in any case, I’m very glad that we were able to spend some time together on the Pacific coast visiting my favourite places. I’m sorry that Don didn’t get a chance to do more travelling. I tried to do so for both of us. It’s what he would have wanted me to do.
Me beside the drifted Redwood stump at McVay Beach near Brookings, Oregon
Beautifully written Bev, sending love and hugs currently from Lisbon – we get the ‘forever’ premise.
Thanks, Chris! Glad to hear that you are in Lisbon. I hope you have a wonderful time. Looking forward to seeing some photos!! 🙂
Thank you for sharing this moving memory. The pelicans and trees, your friends and dogs and, of course, Don all make for indelible memories. I hope you find happiness amongst all these transitionary experiences.
Thank you, Charles. I do find happiness in many places. The dogs and nature.
Thanks for this, Bev.
Here’s some kind of ephemeral toast to you…loss is ours to live through, to deal with, now at this time of our lives. Life is bittersweet at this age, l find, and from now on l don’t see it being anything else. Our personal losses may differ, but in many ways it’s the same. I find the salve, the balm, to be in my connections to the greater world and all its denizens…and l bet it’s like that for you too. And l don’t bet much.
You’re so right, Jamie. At our age, it often seems that the losses just keep coming. I too find the balm to be in looking outward, especially at the natural world – the birds, the insects, the sky. Always much to see and think about. And then there is the vegetable garden and my dog tribe. Playing music, making art, and reading. Life is quite full in many good ways.
Even though I never met Don your words and ongoing love have made me feel like I almost know him. I would have loved meeting you two on the beach here. We would have had such a wonderful walk, especially at a minus tide. Then, I would have cooked a delicious vegetarian meal, the one we call our “regular.” It’s sliced tofu marinated in a bit in tamari and then sprinkled with nutritional yeast. Lightly fried on both sides. Then, a large pot of steamed veggies from the garden. A piece of chocolate for dessert.
We will raise our wine glasses tonight and shout out a loving hello to Don into the large and vast universe.
Don would have loved meeting you on the beach. And he would have loved the vegetarian meal as well! That sounds so good. I can see it in my mind’s eye! Yes, raise your wine glasses and say hello to Don. It never feels like he is wandering too far ahead. <3
You and Don were in my thoughts this morning when I saw the note on my perpetual calendar that this was the last day of Don’s life. The life and love you shared moves me once again, especially this series of photos from your trip to the Pacific Coast and the sight of the pelicans. Yes to that image of Don walking somewhere ahead of you and the feelings that go with it.
Art and nature sustain me. Always will.
Thank you, am. Yes, those Pelicans. They were wonderful. Art and nature sustain me as well. Take care.
Dear Bev, such a lovely tribute to Don, and just a small part of your beautiful life together. I am in tears as I am such a sentimental and emotional person, but they are tears of joy, as well as sadness. What a wonderful life together, traveling, seeing amazing sights, raising your dogs, living on a farm… I am so very sorry it was cut short, and your future had to change. But so grateful that you have such wonderful memories that live on.
Thinking of you. ~Lisa
Thanks, Lisa. Yes, we did have a wonderful life together. It’s been hard being alone all this time, but I feel fortunate for the years we did have. <3