Re-Emergence

Our lives interlace the past with the present and at any given moment collide at the right angle, to impact our future ~ TL Alton 

Where I am working at Moberly Lake Provincial Park, almost a half hour away, is the town of Chetwynd, B.C. 

Moberly Lake Provincial Park

This small community was not on my map prior to me coming to work up North. A month later, my footsteps have been left in the dirt, as I make my trips for groceries, laundry and the local library. 

While in the outdoors, I collect the litter dispersed all over. The other day, the path I was walking along, led me to an unexpected revelation. Nearing the corner of town, I saw a half-flattened can of silly string and decided against throwing it directly in the garbage. Instead, I saw a half wire basket attached to a local trash bin. As I placed the rubbish in it, I saw the name of the recycling company—Wishbone. This drew a smile upon my face, as this is the same company who created my late daughter Shayla’s Memorial bench, overlooking Okanagan Lake. I am familiar with the business as I wrote a blog post about them and the lovely bench of remembrance. 

To be employed in the North and have a piece of litter connect me to Shayla, is another moment of grace. I have discovered, even with the tribulations…there are glints of light. 

In the town of Chetwynd, I would find the hub of ingenuity, spread within numerous chainsaw carvings that boggle the mind.  The process used to create displays of artistry is astounding; a crafting tool being a portable saw which cuts with a set of mechanical teeth. 

I was not able to attend this year’s annual Chetwynd International Chainsaw Carving Championship. Nevertheless in my research, I contacted the Chetwynd Visitor Centre to inquire about the source of the wood used. I received a prompt email from Kristin Hart – Visitor Centre Student Office Assistant. Her helpful response:  

The wood used in the Carving Competition is cedar wood. The wood for the chainsaw carvings are selected from several woodlots throughout BC then transported to Chetwynd. Cedar wood is the “carving wood of choice” because it is the easiest wood to carve!

I am grateful for Kristin’s answer and would like to thank her and Chetwynd Visitor Centre.

When I first saw the winning carving on-line, I thought the person was real (sitting at the piano). Turns out the Lady Gaga cedar figurine titled “Joanne” is incredibly realistic! Gaga penned the tribute memorial song to her aunt Joanne Germanotta, whose young life ended at 19 due to Lupus.

To witness such craftsmanship is to bear witness through the cedar, the grief of Lady Gaga’s family battle scars that were etched into the wood and brought out into the light to heal. 

Winner Jeff Samudosky
Source: Alaska Highway News

There is something so unrefined in being broken, when you allow your vulnerability to be open to the elements. 

Recently, my words reached out to the past and echoing back was a reaction from someone that was part of my life, thirty years ago. 

In 1988, I was seventeen…a broken filament who was running from a bout of darkness. I had closed many doors to my heart that I did not believe it was possible to ever know what it felt to be truly loved. I wore betrayal like an 80’s rocker t-shirt –the caustic edge was merely a way to cope with what I was fleeing. 

In my English class, I met a young man. His wit, charm and smile that set hearts on fire, soon became a fixture in my life. As I write this, I still reminisce over the poetry he wrote bound to roses he tucked into my school locker. He and I spent time at his parents’ home in Falkland. He would take me outside to an open loft deck and that is where the planting of my book, Under the Sitka Tree, was given life to the tree house. Listening to the playlist of Journey, we were two teenagers in love…unprepared for the train wreck coming my way. 

On December 16^th, my estranged father died of cancer, at the age of 41. I had departed my own home on bad terms and my 4.0 average began to unravel, as my world did.

Knowing now what I do about loss and having being educated through taking the GriefShare course, I recognize that we take the most unbearable pain and project it on those we love. In a matter of weeks, I shattered the relationship I had with him and broke his heart. Yet despite me leaving town and later becoming pregnant with my daughter, he and I kept in contact for many years. 

As time went on, it was apparent we would part on good terms. I never spoke the truth of my feelings or grant him an apology long overdue. 

In 2000, I was sitting beside the river’s edge and encircling me were a grove of trees. I marvelled at the towering Sitka, whose canopy eclipsed the skyline. I envisioned a tree house up in the lofty branches…a refuge where one would be safe from the hazards of life. Grabbing a pen, I ripped a page out of my note book and began composing.

Last week, past midnight, I could not tire and found myself searching—yet again as I had over the years for my old flame. This time, the young man I had dated long ago, seemed to be the gentleman I was about to send a simple message to. 

My purpose in wanting to contact him was two-fold. First, he knew of Shayla, as over time, I sent him pictures and letters. Their care-free, old souls also were rock hounds who loved to write poetry. 

When my daughter was graduating, I shared with her about my former love. Likewise, I told her about the unique connection to UTST. She was enthralled by the stories of the loft and passion for the written word he and I had shared. In her wise 18 years, she looked at me and said:

“You’ve never forgiven yourself… have you momma?” 

Now, if I expected to hear back a message, I was not holding out hope. 

However, the next morning was a reply. It was the young man I had shared part of 1988 with.

We exchanged a rapid set of messages. Suddenly, I knew I had to disclose the loss I had suffered. I told him that Shayla had died on December 12th, 2011. His kind hearted responses were what I needed, to receive closure for myself. Over the years, I had carried a wave of emotions, linked to him and now I was able to let it all go. 

To hold onto such blame is no longer a burden I need to carry. From this man’s compassion, stems a branch of forgiveness that I don’t even know, if he understands the value given. 

Loss can be a kaleidoscope of unbearable misery and if delayed, it carries over into other painful times when we have to say goodbye. However, through nature we can pull from a cedar or a sitka; the source of our authenticity…freeing from within that needs to be released.

By TL Alton