Mom has flown...

On March 10th, mom's confusion and anxiety finally ceased. After nearly two years of suffering with the late stages of Alzheimers, she passed peacefully in her sleep. Her life was brave, beautiful, challenging and miraculous. Lots of it didn't go the way she wanted. But, what mattered most to her went just as she had always hoped. Family was everything to her. She had her children, grandchildren, siblings, her brothers and sister in-laws, her neices and nephews, and many dear friends. Mom basically created family wherever she went. Her life was love, plain and simple. I love her with all my heart and always will.

The journey that Alzheimers took her on was life changing for all who knew and loved her. In the case of my sister Nicole and I, it literally changed everything in our lives. We both left our homes in Central Washington in 2018 because she could no longer live independently. Mom became the central focus and responsibility of Nik's life for the last couple of years. I can't say enough about the love, care, and endurance she demonstrated. She could not have honored our mother more! I am so very grateful for her! I had my son in Seattle to continue guiding into independent adulthood as well as Jackdaw to build. So, I was only in Olympia to care for mom and give Nik a break about a quarter of the time.

For those of you who are currently, (or have), provided 24/7 care for a loved one with Alzheimers, you know how heartbreaking and exhausting it is. Nothing else I have experienced in life even comes close. It stretches the bounds of your physical and mental endurance at the same time that it reveals the depth of your love. Mom was always there for us and there was never any question we would be there for her when she needed us. But, all the love and devotion in the world won't keep you from the emotional wear and tear of providing full time care for one you love afflicted with Alzheimers.

But now she is free. Free of the confusion and terror. Free of her physical pain. She lived a long and very blessed life with far more joy than sorrow. With her passing, not only is she free again, so are we. In occasional lucid moments in the last year she always expressed her frustration with the fact that her care had become the focus of our lives. It was very difficult to see her get upset and cry about that. I know I would feel the same if I were in that situation. As the weight of her care has lifted from our shoulders, I feel like I've reached the end of a year and a half hike up the face of a mountain and just set my pack down for the first time. It's an almost uncomfortable lightness at times. One I sometimes feel guilty for relishing, until I remind myself that this is what she wanted for me, for us. She wanted Nik and I to be free to pursue our lives with all our strength, focus and talent. She loved us enough to let us go. I don't expect the sadness of her passing to be out of my daily awareness for quite a while. But, it's not as bitter as I expected. I think that's because I know she's with me and is getting another of her wishes- To see her children free to fly as well. And so we shall. Your love rolls on Mom!

Leaps show us the way...

It's a stunning spring day here in Seattle! I threw open the back door to let the sun and freshness pour in as I write this post.

In a little over four months, I will have lived in Hella for two years. Some things have gone as I'd hoped while others have not. But, my faith and focus on my purpose remain unshaken. Even so, there are times when I lay in this bed in this little steel box awaiting sleep and I think to myself, 'What the fuck have I done?!' I'm 54, a professional photographer, and all I have in this world is this truck and the possessions that fit in it. Let me tell you, that's an interesting place to be at this age! At moments like that, I literally do laugh out loud!

I believe in what I'm doing and the sacrifices I have made to make it possible. The work I do is deeply meaningful and a blessing to all I create for. As satisfying as it is, I have been relearning some old lessons lately. One of them is that the successful manifestation of whatever you set out to build or do cannot make you any happier than you are without that thing. True serenity must come from within, not without. There's nothing you can do externally that will make you feel truly whole and valuable. No job, hobby or relationship can fill you up if you haven't connected with the wellspring of your own self worth. For me, staying connected to that source is a matter of following my heart even when doing so poses personal or emotional risk. My risk tolerance has increased as I have walked this path. It has been further heightened as I have helped care for my mother as she descended into the depths of Alzheimers. Witnessing her decline has left me with no illusions of having plenty of time to do what is on my heart.

One of the risks on my horizon is rolling south for the winter in November. Mom is now living in an exceptional memory care home and is no longer dependent on my sister and I for her 24/7 care. My son has come into his own and is becoming the independent adult that I knew he would. I'm doing all I can to gain more patrons to help cover the expense of taking this mission on the road south. But, I will go even if I don't have all the support I would like. I feel an urgency and desire that I can no longer deny. I'm looking forward to the adventure and serving new communities, but I'm also sad about the distance doing so will create between myself and the ones I love here in the PNW. Leaving them for the winter feels selfish and goes against my grain. I have always been the anchor, the one that everyone could count on to be in a fixed position, ready and able to help them in whatever way they need. Hoisting that anchor and setting sail will not be easy for me. It will require me to have faith not only in myself and my instincts, but also in my loved one's abilities to take care of themselves. That personal separation is definitely the hardest part of taking on this kind of life. I will once again have to become very familiar with finding serenity within myself, by myself.

There's that wide open vista again! The one that is equally exhilarating and terrifying. Journey on!

Hella mileage milestone!

See that number written in Sharpie above my speedo? 14265 is what the odometer read when Hella was dropped off a dead hulk in my driveway nearly four years ago. Writing that mileage on the dash was the first mark I made on the rig. I knew I had months of work ahead of me before she would even start, let alone run around the tiny town of Ellensburg. After a couple years of literal blood, sweat and tears, she was truly road worthy and I hit the road putting my faith in the work I had done. There's been lots of mechanical hurdles to overcome along the way, but we've tackled them all with ingenuity and determination and she's a truly solid daily driver now. I know she'll throw more curves at me, but I've proven to myself that I'm up to the task. It's a truly awesome feeling to know a vehicle's systems as thoroughly as I do this truck's now. It gives you confidence to really stretch your legs and take the path less traveled.

Last night on the way to Ballard from an evening with my son in Lynnwood, she turned over mile 28530. In less than four years I have doubled the miles she put on in her 20+ years of military and steel mill service before being rolled into a barn to sleep for over 30 years. This big beautiful doll is officially more mine than she's ever been anyone else's and that's a big deal to me! I am one of those humans that gets extremely attached to my ride. I've had two different rigs for over 13 years each. I modified them heavily, but nothing even remotely on par with Hella. This rig is truly a dream manifest for me. I feel so very blessed to be her caretaker. We take excellent care of each other.

My partnership with this truck is likely to be the longest of my life as far as vehicles go. I plan on running her to the very end and then she will be my kid's. Whether they keep her or not, (she's a serious handful in lots of ways), will be up to them. But, no matter what happens, I know she'll go on being loved and bringing smiles and thumbs up everywhere she rolls. That's a very cool part of my legacy, one that makes me happy to think of. It's not even close to the importance of the work I'm doing for families, but for a lifelong old-school gearhead like myself, it's deeply satisfying.

So, congrats Hella! Whaddya say we roll a few hundred thousand more?

(PS- Not one dollar of Jackdaw support has ever been spent on Hella's restoration and modification. I did it all with my personal savings and the sale of possessions I no longer needed.)

Memory is a precious gift

We rarely fully appreciate something until it is lost. No one gets through life without the experience many times and in many ways. On the fortunate occasions, we heal or grow without permanent damage or loss. But, not always.

As many of you know, my sister and I, (primarily my sister by a large margin), have been our mom's caregivers for the last two years as Alzheimers has steadily taken away her memory. It's been a horrifying and crushing thing to witness. I can't imagine a more devastating fate for a human to endure at the end of their days. I am one who steadfastly seeks the lesson or opportunity within terrible circumstances. But in the case of Alzheimers, I have yet to see the good.

Two and a half years ago, a fall I took at work badly tore up my left knee. I was on crutches for several months and in constant pain. After six months I was slowly and rigidly walking without crutches. Years later now and it's still not 100%. I don't know that it ever will be again, but I can walk. The thought early on that I may be done walking was terrifying. But, losing my mobility would be nothing compared to losing my life memories. I would give up any other sense or ability I possess in exchange to keep all that I have known, lived, loved and experienced in my life.

Think of those you love and who love you. The love and trust you give, build and share with them is the greatest force in your life. It binds us together and entwines our fates beyond this life. Now, imagine slowly, relentlessly, becoming a stranger to one you share that bond with.

Far worse, imagine what the other side must be like. Knowing the person before you is of significance to you, yet there is no memory to tell you why. As a matter of fact, you don't know anybody anymore, yet they are telling you what you must do. Assuring you that you can trust them. Oddly familiar strangers giving you medications, dressing you, helping you move about within limitations you do not understand. Not ever truly grasping your situation. Having thoughts that are so fragmented that you cannot articulate them in even the simplest of ways.

All because your memory banks are incrementally shutting down in a slow cascade of confusion.

The words, 'Remember me', written on the rail car in the above photo got me thinking about all this. We all want to be remembered by the ones we love in life. We all think about how we'll be remembered and hope it's positive and inspiring to those who's lives we have touched. Mom doesn't always remember who I am, but I will always remember her as the sweet and loving soul that had unyielding faith in her beliefs and her children. She's still there before me no matter what wretchedness this disease visits upon her. I'll be spending the next few days taking care of her so Nik can get a break. I'm anxious because I know I will be stepping into her life as a stranger again and that hurts. Funny how no matter what our age, being in a parent's presence gives rise to a desire for their recognition and approval. A flash back to childhood when mom or dad would scoop us up in a big, warm hug of pride and joy! I miss that more than I can say.

At this point in mom's journey, all those that love her are her memory now and we remember her. We see her for who she has been to us all her life. We know she loves and is proud of us. We know she trust us. The disease is not who she is. It presents confusion, desperation and anxiety. I will never allow the face of Alzheimers to reshape her.

I love you mom. You are remembered.

You are enough. You have purpose.

This is my dear friend Chuk Lame Crow. I don't know who the photographer is that created this, but I know it was shot in the Temple of Grace at Burning Man in 2014. I just learned yesterday that Chuk passed on a week ago. I was not prepared for that news last night and it wrecked me.

Some people are special to us because we've spent years with them and they know us like nobody else could. I've probably spent a sum total of 8 hours talking with Chuk and I feel about him like people I've known all my life. The combination of the timing of meeting him and the human he was, had a massive impact on my life and inspired a lot of what I am doing today.

Chuk was a longtime Temple Guardian at Burning Man and one of the first people I met in Guardian Camp at my first burn in 2014. He immediately recognized the sea of grief roiling beneath my surface. He welcomed me with a big hug every day as he did everyone. He and I both had roof top tents on our rigs and that got us talking right away. It didn't take long for him to call me out. I cried on him a lot and he let me do so without trying to console me or solve my problems. He was a shining example of empathy and one I aspire to everyday. He defined the spirit of a Temple Guardian, one that holds space for another.

Through the conversations and tears he managed to weave two significant messages into my heart. Firstly, that I was enough just as I was. Secondly, that my life still had purpose. Both were things I was a million miles away from accepting at the time. But, I eventually got there and sure enough, he was right.

It was clear he knew how I was feeling because he too had had similar experiences. He assured me that in a few years time, so long as I had the courage to embrace change and seek my heart's true purpose, I would come to a blessed place of gratitude and joy. He would sit across from me and put his forehead against mine and I would cry, deeply. He understood my pain and welcomed the chance to help me let some out. Chuk was as sweet as a human could ever hope to be.

I learned so much about empathy from him in those moments. Amazingly, I witnessed him doing the same for many others both in camp as well as in the Temple. This was a man who knew his purpose and embraced it with exceptional heart and balance.

I saw Lame Crow again at the 2015 burn and when he passed through Seattle in September of 2018. It was a thrill to share with him what my experiences in life and at Burning Man had inspired me to do. The last time I saw him he told me he was excited for and proud of me. I'll never forget his last hug and him saying, "See? I told you you'd find your way!". Indeed I have Chuk, and you were a huge part of guiding me.

I love you Lame Crow. See you on the other side Brother.

My biggest inspirations

In late 2013 and all of 2014 I felt like willing my heart to stop beating. My marriage had failed and for the first time in my life, I was facing the truth of all aspects of who I had been and why. The painful personal work of peeling back layer after layer was unyielding and felt unbearable. In the first year of my separation it was my children that kept me alive. In those early stages of grief and awakening, I needed someone more than myself to live for. They gave me that reason no matter how dark my world felt. They loved me through and brought precious moments of normalcy and warmth to what was a terrifyingly cold and empty new reality. With them, I got to be Dad despite all my wreckage strewn about me. They didn't see me as the broken man I had become. They saw me as their father who they loved no matter what, and that saved me. It truly did.

Like every parent that holds their child for the first time, my love for them has always been total. What is amazing to me is how it just gets deeper as we go. Aja and Talon have become my biggest inspiration to make the most of the rest of my life.

The legacy I hope my example will inscribe on their hearts is to find their purpose and burn passionately with it. To be fiercely vulnerable and willing to make mistakes. To have the courage to become who they truly are in every aspect of their lives. To trust their inner voice and always choose love over fear.

It is my deepest hope that I will inspire them in these ways, just as their steadfast love and support has inspired me on my journey. I can't thank them enough for loving me through the dark years that seem so long ago, but really weren't.

Aja, Talon, you are my heart guys. I love you always and forever. That's one thing in all your lives that you can count on never changing.

Love,

Dad

A late Christmas...

Christmas comes late for our family this time around. We waited until my daughter, Aja, could join Talon and I at my mom and sister's house. Aja is a freelance photographer and she lives in the SOMA district of San Francisco. She arrives early Tuesday morning and we'll be taking a few days for family. Always a very important thing to make time for! Especially when everyone lives in different places. She will likely join me for my Pike Place Jackdaw day a week from today. That should be fun!

I continue to hear from all kinds of people that saw the KING5 feature. The response has been wonderful and encouraging! I've also been contacted by several new agencies that would like to have me shoot for their clients, which is awesome! I'll be very busy after Aja's visit is done. It's been great meeting so many new people as a result of the TV exposure! I'm hoping all of you that have engaged me will give www.jackdaw.love a good read and consider becoming patrons of this work. It is gaining momentum and blessing so many! I'm optimistic that by the end of 2020 I'll have enough patron support to survive on as I gift. Thank you for your time and consideration.

Sincerely,

Rich 'Jackdaw'