I read over all of the messages, and some new ones, and had another cry this morning. I guess it is cathartic. It has helped Jim to be able to vent and talk through his experience over and over. He has struggled with guilt feelings about Dr. Crowe’s death, thinking that if he hadn’t shouted “We’re going over”, maybe he wouldn’t have jumped. On the other hand, maybe it helped save others worse trauma to have been warned, he also reasons. There is no answer I tell him, and no one can make rational sense of what they did during an event that lasted about five seconds and forever changed all of our lives.
I laughed at him yesterday as he wanted all of his bruises and mine, photographed. Yesterday he went back to the clinic. They wrapped his chest tightly and explained to him that he had held onto the chair leg so tightly, that the power of the wreck really wrenched and tore that muscle and that is why he is in so much pain. Every move, breath and burp. He slept really well for the first time last night. It doesn’t matter how severe your injuries are, the emotional trauma can be debilitating, as we all know.
I keep thinking of Sara Dailey’s words, Walk In Beauty. They resonate constantly in my mind and I try to keep them foremost. Also the words of Carolyn, Richard’s sister, “…we look through a glass darkly…” How true, and then we must move on.
I also heard from Stuart Koch, the father of a young officer with the Sheriff’s Department, Zach Koch, who loaded my pictures from the canyon and the accident into his hard drive, two days back. We gave a lengthy recorded statement as well. Stuart, from Chicago, said he was so proud of his son and seeing the pictures gave him a perspective of what his work entails at times. (Pretty gritty.) Zach spent time with Mrs. Crowe and was very much affected by the families trauma, as well. Being in law enforcement does not make you immune to suffering.
I’m getting restless and feeling kind of trapped in our tin can. Many of you know we are in a motor home in the camp ground for Canyon de Chelly. As travel bloggers, we are used to getting out and doing things. We discussed maybe driving the South Rim overlook that we had to quit because the wind nearly blew us off the ridge. That happened the day before the accident. In fact, I took pictures of the dust that seeped into the motor home even with the windows closed that day.
This is the window closest to the dinette table. I drew my finger through the dust on the table before taking the photo. Of course, I wiped the table but the window sills throughout are heavy with dust.
This photo is of the bedroom window sill, again with my finger run through the dust. I’m hoping today I have the energy to haul out the vacuum and get rid of most of it. The road of life is a dusty one, Jim keeps telling me.
Because the accident has kept us here, we had our mail rerouted from our expected destination in Durango, Colorado. I drove to town, and Jim got his new credit card after it was skimmed. And I finally got my absentee ballot for California. The time was short, I marked my ballot, put it in an express mail envelope and went to send it and I had driven to town without my wallet and didn’t have a dime to pay for it. It was late in the day. I drove back and tossed it on the dashboard. The first time I have ever missed voting in an election since I was old enough to vote.
A lot of firsts happened to us this week, the least of which are the small irritations like missing my vote. Last night, I loaded all but one of the accident pictures into an album if you have the need to look at them. You can see them at this link: