I remember the day
like it was yesterday. We were on our way to Fernie to camp for a few days and were
stopped on the highway for what seemed to be a highway accident or some type of
emergency ahead. My brother was driving his own vehicle, as he was going to attend a
hockey camp in Fernie and would hopefully be offered a position on the team, so he would possibly
need to be staying in Fernie if he made the team. My Mom was concerned at first
that he had been involved in the accident and was relieved when he texted that
yes, he was stopped on the highway ahead of us, also waiting for the emergency
vehicles. We drove by the emergency vehicles a short time later but were unable to
see anything other than what appeared to be rescue divers in the creek.
That sense of relief
was short-lived as a few hours later my Mom was talking back and forth with her
sister who indicated that our Uncle Clark had gone on ahead of her to the
campground and she hadn’t heard from Clark for a few hours and was quite
concerned. My
brother and I rode our bikes around the campground to see if he had just set up
camp at one of the sites and we were not really worried, after all, Uncle Clark
had relatives in the Pass and it was very likely he was just visiting his
Mother, as he did on every occasion he could, and just lost track of
time. That
was Uncle Clark, just a wonderfully happy soul, who lived in the
moment.
We were shocked that
by the time we had to go a practice that evening that he had not been heard from
and then ultimately saddened and shocked to find out that our wonderful Uncle
Clark had been the victim of the car accident we had passed earlier in the
day. He had
apparently driven off the highway and ended up in the water.
Our lives were never
and have never been the same. Uncle Clark and my Aunt and her children were like our
extended family and we did everything, I mean everything, together. How could we go
on? What
would we do without Clark? Was there any real reason to smile again? How would we ever
have the courage to heal from this horrific loss? Grief is such a horrible
thing. I remember that achy, empty feeling every morning that reappeared each
day.
But, as a family, we
were able to bond together, hold each other up in love and through our faith
have hope that we could recover, or recover at least to the point that we would
be able to smile when we thought about Clark and all the good memories would
overcome the tears which would someday end. This is me and my families’ story of
how we struggled with the courage to live each day without Clark and the hope
that we would find strength in our love for each other.
My Mom attended a
Grief counseling session with my Aunt (“The Grief Recovery Handbook” by John W.
James and Russell Friedman) listed the steps to healing which she shared with
us. One
important step was to allow ourselves to share our feelings of grief. Also it is
good to talk about our feelings and those things that we wish we had the chance
to say to our beloved Uncle before his life was cut short.
-Spencer Barthel
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