Where do I even begin?

Exactly one month ago from today, I received a text that forever changed me. My sister-in-law, assuming that I had already heard the news, felt impressed to send me a message letting me know that Jason Connolly, one of my best friends from high school, had been tragically killed the day before. He was entering the freeway when he noticed debris on the on-ramp. While trying to clear the road of the debris, he was struck and killed. The worst of it was, his kids were in the car and witnessed the entire incident.

Upon hearing the news, in the solitude of my own car, I was instantly hysterical; I couldn't comprehend the news. I've been fortunate enough to have never experienced a personal loss such as this prior to Jason's death. And it wrecked me. After the immediate shock wore off, I began reaching out to the other friends in our old group, letting them know of his passing. Each message, each phone call made the ache hurt deeper as we all came to the realization that our next reunion will be without him. It is a heavy thought to know that the next time we fully reunite with one another, it will be at his grave. 

The days following his death were rough. I was flooded with emotions, both the good and the bad. So many memories came pouring in. I immediately set about gathering every photo, every letter, every tangible thing that I had of Jason. His name filled my journals from high school, first as a person of interest and then later as a most trusted friend. I have pictures from making pizzas, from going to school dances, from Halloween parties, from New Years get togethers, from our trip to his cabin in Taylor... and more. I have the letters that he wrote to me while he served his mission in the Philippines. I sent him care packages often and was there the day that he returned home. In turn, he was at my baptism, there for me the first time I went through the temple, and at my sealing. Thankfully, I have so many things to remember him by. Every nickname. Every song we shared. Every inside joke. But how do you say goodbye to someone when you don't have the opportunity to say goodbye?

The funeral was held ten days after his passing. I was hesitant on whether or not to attend, but in the end I knew that I needed some sort of closure - some sense of peace. The service was beautiful. Listening to his father (Papa Bear), his [not-so-little] little brother, and his cousin speak made my soul feel... comforted. I knew that I was where I needed to be. And the biggest tender mercy of all was that I was in the company of three of the remaining friends. We had made so many memories together in our younger years; we had carried one another through pivotal moments in our youth. And here we were, sharing in a new moment together. We shared the weight of a death.

In the weeks since the funeral, the seven of us remaining in the wake of Jason's passing have been able to reconnect and rekindle friendships that we (more or less) have forgotten to nurture as a result of the thief of time. Our relationships with one another aren't the same as they once were when we were younger, but Jason's death has helped each of us understand that it is important to value meaningful connections. We've been reminiscing and relearning about one another all over again. And I know that Jason would have loved it.

He also would have loved that, despite the situation, I have been able to reconnect with another sweet friend as a result of his death. After high school, I was convinced that I was going to marry my missionary (spoiler alert: I didn't). My missionary's sister-in-law just happened to grow up with Jason, so she has been an integral place of comfort for me in the last few weeks. She asked if, on the one month anniversary of his passing, we wanted to do dry ice bombs out in the desert in Jason's honor. So yesterday morning, that is exactly what we did. 

I will not get to see Jason again in this lifetime, but I'll always be able to carry him with me through the memories and good times we had together. 

365.4: WEEK 48

Starting the week at a friend's funeral. Celebrating the mr.'s birthday with a free cupcake. Cashing in free birthday treats for the oldest two [several weeks late]. Watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade ballet performance on Thanksgiving morning. Setting up Christmas trees. Hanging Christmas lights. Entertaining one another before church.

November 23rd - November 29th

365.4: WEEK 46

I didn't forget to post last week; it was intentional. I needed a moment to collect myself, a moment to breathe. I'll post more when I'm ready, but not now. Not yet. In the mean time, two weeks ago. Hiking Pass Mountain with my favorite person. Attending the Desert Botanical Gardens (with the mr. and my parents). Celebrating Veterans Day, reverse parade style. Playing out front. Having a rough day and finding comfort in my cat. NO PHOTO: this was the day that I found out that one of my closest and best friends from high school had been killed. Learning what it means to grieve.

November 9th - November 15th

CALI TRIP: SEAL BEACH

After our time at Great Wolf Lodge, we drove about a mile northwest to meet up with my parents at their Airbnb in Garden Grove. The next four days were meant to be beach, beach, beach. First up, Seal Beach on day three of our vacation. Following a delicious breakfast, we lotioned up, loaded up, and headed out. I was nervous what the parking situation would look like at 10am, but to our surprise, we easily found prime parking. The kids had a blast playing on boogie boards, tossing their surfer dudes in the waves, and building sand castles. We really could not have asked for a better first day at the beach. Just as we were deciding when to wrap it up, an alarming incident occurred. Unbeknownst to us, my mom went down to the water to rinse the sand out of her shoes. I turned from our spot on the beach to see her sitting on the shore. I thought nothing of it; she was probably just playing with some of the kids. It only took a few seconds for my brain to register that she WOULDN'T be sitting like that to play with the kids - she'd be in the water, but never sitting on the shore. Just as this thought crossed my mind, I saw the mr. walking down the beach towards her, so I figured she had just fallen and that he'd help her up. But he couldn't seem to help her to her feet. When she continued to get sucked in further and get tossed about by the wild waves, I started to panic. My dad swiftly made his way down to my mom to help the mr., but even the two of them could not lift her out of the water. They, themselves, began getting knocked down. I dashed down to the beach and arrived to hear my mom simply state, "I broke my ankle. I know it. I heard it snap." My dad asked if someone could call 911 and my mom protested. I took off, flying in the direction of my phone but instead decided to sprint to the nearest lifeguard tower. Three lifeguards jumped down and sped down the beach in their truck as I raced back to my mom. A good samaritan had assisted the mr. and my dad in getting my mom to her feet. The three of them helped her walk a couple of feet to the back of the truck, where she and I were brought to the parking lot near the lifeguard tower for an assessment. They packed her ankle with ice and gave her some oxygen while I ran off for water. Once an incident report had been filled out, they allowed my parents (both retired nurses) to head to the nearest urgent care facility on their own. Sure enough, my mom had snapped her fibula the entire way through when a rip current and a strong wave simultaneously hit and twisted around her feet at the beach. She was sent home a few hours later on crutches with a temporary brace and had been told that surgery would almost definitely be required. While we waited for them to return to the Airbnb, we swam. Unfortunately, the pain and difficulty of crutches became too much to bear and my parents ultimately decided to go home a day early. Since they've been home, my mom has had a series of medical appointments. Initially, it looked as if a fiberglass cast might be enough to adequately mend the bone. At yesterday's appointment, my mom found out that she will be requiring immediate surgery after all. Even though this is not how we had hoped recovery would pan out, we are all well aware that the situation on the beach could have been so much worse. A man was actually killed by a wave in NC a week after my mom's incident.

TRAUMA & MIRACLES

Bear with me. This is long.

I've been staring at the remainder of the pictures from our snow trip, trying to figure out how to best explain what happened next. Looking at these pictures, writing about the events, and talking about our experiences causes me to relive the trauma. But in order to more forward, sometimes we need to reflect on what has passed.

After our snow play, the intensity of the snowfall steadily increased as we packed away the snow gear, sleds, and boots. We decided to eat a quick lunch in the car before making the trip home. I hadn't even finished my sandwich when the urgent feeling of "leave. NOW." hit. The road that had once primarily been dirt was now covered in a layer of white. I cautiously continued forward until I felt comfortable on the snowy road. We drove several miles onward towards the Rim, awestruck by the beauty of the snow. Having driven Rim Road a dozen or so times, I knew I'd feel relief once I got to the familiar road. Instead, fear stopped me in my tracks and I brought the car to a halt. While a gentle snow had fallen on us as we played, the edge of the Rim had been blasted with blizzard-like conditions. Everything was covered in white; there was no trace of color anywhere. My cousin/friend did everything she could to bolster my confidence, but I only felt terror at the 18 miles that remained ahead of us; Rim Road is a dangerous road that can be difficult to navigate under the best of conditions. There are sheer drop-offs and deep ravines along the entire length of the road, which stretches 36 miles from just north of Strawberry on the 87 all the way to Heber on the 260. And we were in the dead center in an active snowstorm. I finally mustered enough courage to start up again, taking Rim Road west to the 87. As I slowly drove along, each mile we passed helped me to feel a little more at ease. That comfort soon vanished as we hit ruts in the road, which - mixed with inches of snow and ice - caused the car to lose traction; the car would slide along the road uncontrollably. My heart was in my throat. After 7 miles on Rim Road, we faced a winding hill that sloped up and around. On the left was a bank of trees and snow. On the right was a deep ravine immediately off the side of the road. And in the middle, there were ruts in our path. I knew the ruts would pull on the wheels, so I hesitated and slowed. We hit the ruts and slid towards the ravine on the right, so I slammed on the breaks. All momentum was gone. We were not going to make it up the hill; every attempt caused the car to slide further and further to the edge of the road. When the front wheels were just a mere TWO INCHES from the edge, it was clear that we were going to slide off of the road and into the ravine. Terrified, I got out of the car while my cousin/friend got into the driver seat and put the car into neutral. I was screaming and crying, but I threw myself at the car and pushed with every ounce of strength that I had. I still do not understand how I was able to get the car to move; I had to push it up and over the curve of the sloping road to prevent it from falling into the ravine. The kids were hysterical - and an image that will always haunt me - but they quickly calmed as the car finally started to roll away from the edge. The car rolled across the road and landed in a ditch on the other side. Try as we might, we could not dig the wheels out of the snow and mud. We were stuck. It was just after 2pm and we were 11 miles from the highway. I was able to get an SOS message out to my husband before service dropped. About an hour later, I was able to place a spotty call to 911. They informed us that a deputy was on the way to assess our situation and told us to sit tight in the meantime. A few texts came in from my husband informing us that the ranger station was closed due to a government shutdown. He had tried several off-road towing services, but never got anyone to answer the phone. I was in a panic. My mind started racing to all of the possible outcomes, most of which looked pretty grim. We were no longer in imminent danger, but we didn't know when or how someone would get to us. Cell service was broken at best. Snow continued to fall. And while I knew right where we were, we were having trouble sending a pin to anyone with our exact location. An hour later, we received a message from the sherif's deputy, informing us that a tow truck was over an hour out, but it was on the way. At about this time, I also got a phone call from old neighbors/family friends of 20+ years who live in Happy Jack - the Merkleys. Robert had gotten ahold of them and told them what he knew of our situation. They were driving down to help us. I almost told the Merkleys not to come as a tow truck was on the way, but something stopped me. They tried to take the road from the highway to get to where we were, but they ended up risking getting stuck themselves. The Merkleys told us they would turn around and wait at the highway until we reached the safety of the road - that they would call us the moment they saw the tow truck. So we waited. And waited. After another hour, the anxiety came rushing back. The tow truck should have reached us at this point. We hadn't even heard from the Merkleys to let us know that the tow truck was on Rim Road, so I was frantic. It was getting dark and we had no idea when help would arrive. At 5:20pm, I told my husband to text the tow service. They were 10 minutes out and coming from behind. Within 7 minutes of my husband's response, amber lights flashed through the dark, snowy sky. I cried. The tow truck had finally made it to us. I fell out of the car and stumbled to the driver, Eliot, crying. He ushered me into his truck where I started talking about a game plan with his girlfriend, Steph, as he assessed my car. We made a plan and were getting ready to make necessary adjustments when HIS truck began to slip due to the snow and ice. Our plan was immediately dropped. Eliot asked if I was willing to abandon my car as conditions were too unsafe to tow us to the highway. We were split into groups and I watched as he loaded up my cousin/friend, her daughter, and three of my children into his truck. At the last minute, he grabbed one more of my kids - my youngest boy - before driving off into the darkness and leaving me alone with my two remaining boys. As I was mentally preparing myself to be alone in the car in the dark for an unknown stretch of time, the passenger door opened and Steph hopped in. Again, I cried, but tears of relief. I would not have to be alone. She assured me that Eliot would keep everyone safe. It would be a 30-40 minute drive to the highway before he would double back for us. I just had to hold on for about an hour. Never had time moved more slowly. I had no way of knowing whether the Merkleys had stayed at the highway or not. An hour later, I received a message from the Merkleys asking if the first group had left the car. Had they left? Fear washed over me yet again. It should have only taken 30-40 minutes for the first group to make it to the highway. Where were they? Steph continued to calm me and explained conditions had probably worsened further and that Eliot would take every measure necessary in order to keep my family safe. 15 minutes later, we got a call from my husband that Eliot had made it to the road and was connecting with the Merkleys. I learned that the Merkleys then took my cousin/friend, her daughter, and my four to a nearby church to warm themselves and get food. Eliot was returning to the car retrieve me and my two boys. In under 40 minutes, he was back and we were moving only what was vital to the tow truck. Everything else would be left in the car. It was after 9pm, 7 hours after I had pushed the car into the ditch. The 11 mile drive from my car to the highway took 50 minutes. The storm had not settled and made the journey slow. There were areas where visibility was only about 2'. Temperatures had dropped below twenty degrees and 6"-7" of snow had fallen in some places where NO SNOW had been earlier in the day. My heart remained in my throat the entire ride and my eyes never left the road. Any time the road skirted the edge of the Rim, my chest tightened and my breathing became labored. It felt as if the terror would never end. Finally, at 10pm, I saw the highway up ahead and two cars on the road. My husband, his father, and a brother-in-law were there waiting for us. We had made it to the highway safely. Numbly, I climbed into my brother-in-law's car, where most of my kids were waiting. My kids fell asleep almost instantly. I, however, couldn't sleep. I couldn't look out at the road, but I couldn't sleep, either. So I cradled my youngest as she slept and messaged my mom and the two of my friends who had known of my peril. I cried and I fought remaining anxiety as we drove through the storm to Payson. Once we passed the storm, I slowly felt my body relax. Just before midnight, we pulled up to my house. Safe. My car was trapped in the snow of a ditch on the Rim, but we had all made it home, safe.

Eliot was able to go back up to the road the following afternoon and by 9pm that night, my husband and his father had gone to Heber and returned home with my car. It was covered in snow and ice, but it was without damage.

On that trip, I experienced fear like I had never known before. I experienced helplessness and hopelessness, too. But I also experienced relief on a whole new level. I experienced courage and bravery, too. My story could have had so many different endings the moment we got back into the car after playing in the snow, but I am grateful for the one we had. I mentally went to hell and back with all of the emotions and thoughts that I had that day. But we are all okay. I am okay.

All images were taken by my cousin/friend with my camera. The first was when we arrived at Rim Road. The remainder were taken when the tow truck first arrived. All images are unedited.

365.3: WEEK 47

We are in the heart of the holiday season and it feels as if things are speeding by faster than ever. Halloween? Gone. Disneyland? Done. Thanksgiving? Over. Christmas is less than a month away and I don't feel as ready as I'd like. Everything has been so... last minute this year. The most amazing part? I hardly care. Is this me finally letting go of some of my OCD tendencies? Probably not. But I'll enjoy this pause in my general break-neck speed and savor the holidays. Playing at the park as a family. Getting loves from my littlest when my autoimmune disease has me down and out. Waiting for the train to pass to meet friends in Anthem for a play date. Having a helping hand with Thanksgiving Day pies. Decorating the Christmas tree. Cutting hair. HOLIDAY SNEAK PEEK.