Disappearing at Slab City – Photo: L. Weikel

Epic

Death is just so damn weird.

In some ways, it feels like Karl’s been gone so long that the stories we tell are becoming epic in nature. Indeed, sometimes they sound like tall tales.

He lives on in our memories, for sure. And memories are notoriously selective.

But he lived a life that could be mistaken, in many ways and by many people, for a tall tale. He lived life bigger in his thirty years than most people live life in thrice that long.

He lived an epic life. Epic in its grandeur and charisma and talent and epic in its plunges to the depths of chaos and self-sabotage.

1111 Devotion

One year ago today, I realized I wanted to make a commitment – a statement – that celebrates my son’s memory and life. As a result, I’ve written a post every single day since November 12^th , 2018, as a way of honoring the creativity and vibrancy of Karl’s life. No morbid or flowery bullshit for me. Rather, a single act of creativity, short or long, personal or political, day in and day out. A simple Act of Power, every day, in remembrance of him.

Not that I’m taking a victory lap around the track yet. As of today, my 365^thpost, I’m only a third of the way around the loop. But it’s a milestone.

Let Me Be Clear

My Act of Power, however, is far from epic. It’s simple, but visible, reminder that, unlike him, I still have the ability to laugh with his father Karl, take walks with our pups, touch the earth, and mow the lawn. I’m still able to hear his brothers’ voices, see their smiles and feel their hugs, watch them love and thrive, and share their triumphs and struggles.

I still have the ability to sit beside the Tohickon and hear her voice, remember when Karl and his brothers splashed (and tormented each other) in her rocky shallows, and witness the gift of hawks and eagles cruising her length or standing watch over me as I write beside her.

I Wish

I wish I could feel his arms around me once again. I wish I could see his sparkling green eyes and devilishly charming smile trying to cajole some concession from me once again. I wish I could hear him mimic something silly, like a dolphin, just to make me laugh until tears run down my face. I wish I could have the chance to see him continue creating and experimenting with the next edgy concept.

He’s Not Really Gone

And yet I know that he visits me occasionally. He’s gone to great lengths, in fact, to make sure to assure me that his body may be gone but his spirit remains quite alive, thank you very much.

Just this morning, when I was reading the text and FB messages, as well as the emails from friends and families – so many of you dear ones who’ve made this journey with me these past 365 days – I remarked to one of you:

“Thank you. Hard one this year. Not sure why – it’s now been eight years. Maybe I’m ready for him to come home now. Weird.”

I sent that email reply and – as Goddess is my witness – I flipped over to FaceBook on my iPhone only moments later. I scrolled down one message and this is what I saw:

Knock my socks off. If you doubt that Karl didn’t photobomb FB to let me know that he’s still around, and can hear me… just compare this photo with the one on my website. Tell me you wouldn’t have taken a double-take too.

This is the type of thing that happens in my life all the time. I am blessed. I am loved. I am So. Incredibly. Lucky.

To all of you who’ve been walking this 1111 Devotion with me by reading my posts:

Thank you. I love you. I appreciate your support more than you know.

(T-746)