Downhill skiing had always been a favorite pastime in the winter for us. We spent many weekends and Spring breaks on the slopes as a family. Lutsen was probably the most frequently visited, we have so many good memories of the mountain and resort.
After skiing the morning on Moose Mountain, the legs burning on the Moose return trail would just about put us out for the day, but it didn't. Curtis stoking the fire in the room, he loved to play with fire! Making the kids go out for at least a few runs in the morning in the rain, because we paid for the ticket after all, before they could go to the indoor/outdoor pool...just to name a few.
It was Lutsen that Dave and I took a long weekend only a few weeks before Curtis was killed, our last ski outing. We talked about how strange it was to be enjoying something when he was in such a volatile area. How we wanted to keep the tradition of a family vacation alive once he got out. Maybe that is part of the reason we hadn't skied in almost two years, the memories. Until this last weekend.
The first Winter after Curtis was killed skiing barely crossed my mind. If I did think of it, I would dismiss it just as quick. Skiing takes alot of concentration, and I didn't have any to spare. I think that is one of the reasons I like it so much, when you are on the slopes, you don't think of anything but what you are doing at the moment. This Winter, I thought of it more often, but we were busy many weekends so again, it got put aside. Talking to Dave only a week ago, we found we had an open weekend, and made our plans.
My concern was could I keep my mind on the task? Would the memories of a place our family loved so much be happy or sad for me? Would it really be like riding a bike, you never forget? My fears were put to rest as soon as we entered the room. The carving on the fire hearth stated, "Rekindle Your Heart". To me that put a tone to the weekend. Curtis was there with us, enjoying the runs just as much as we were. Yelling, "Watch me!", as he went off a ledge.
My memories were met with a happy heart, not sadness. I thought of all the wonderful family moments that cannot be taken away from me. I am so glad I have them. In many ways I rekindled my love of skiing along with my heart.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Friday, February 3, 2012
Books
I have a stack of books bedside. When I'm in a low place I like to read them for inspiration, but interestingly enough, when I am in a relatively good place, reading them will bring me down.
I just recently discovered this oddity. Finishing my most recent book the other night, and still not sleepy, I decided to pick up one of the 'self help' books. After only a few pages, I started to feel a panic attack coming on. How could a book that brings so much comfort at times of darkness bring on a feeling of dispare when my emotional state is relatively calm?
After much thought on the subject, I've decided the difference. When my thoughts are in turmoil, knowing someone out there feels and acts the same way is comforting. Grief is a very lonely place. Even though I know there are others suffering the same fate, I can slip into my own world of solitude. I may socialize, and talk normally, but the demons in my head cause me to isolate myself.
When my emotions are calm and things are seemingly good, the words make me feel like I am not normal. I think they bring on many more questions than answers. How can I be feeling happy today when I have this horrible thing in my recent past? Obviously, losing my son is not something I will ever get over, but learning to live with the pain does happen. Maybe reading these books keeps me from learning to deal with it in my own way, but when I slip they put me on track again.
This is a new life full of discovery of myself. There are things I would have never thought before, things I would have never done, writing to mention one. It brings a quote to mind from the most recent book I read, "Sometimes the worst thing that happens to you, the thing you think you can't survive...it's the thing that makes you better than you used to be." Funny how I can do some easy reading and extract a line that makes the most sense.
I just recently discovered this oddity. Finishing my most recent book the other night, and still not sleepy, I decided to pick up one of the 'self help' books. After only a few pages, I started to feel a panic attack coming on. How could a book that brings so much comfort at times of darkness bring on a feeling of dispare when my emotional state is relatively calm?
After much thought on the subject, I've decided the difference. When my thoughts are in turmoil, knowing someone out there feels and acts the same way is comforting. Grief is a very lonely place. Even though I know there are others suffering the same fate, I can slip into my own world of solitude. I may socialize, and talk normally, but the demons in my head cause me to isolate myself.
When my emotions are calm and things are seemingly good, the words make me feel like I am not normal. I think they bring on many more questions than answers. How can I be feeling happy today when I have this horrible thing in my recent past? Obviously, losing my son is not something I will ever get over, but learning to live with the pain does happen. Maybe reading these books keeps me from learning to deal with it in my own way, but when I slip they put me on track again.
This is a new life full of discovery of myself. There are things I would have never thought before, things I would have never done, writing to mention one. It brings a quote to mind from the most recent book I read, "Sometimes the worst thing that happens to you, the thing you think you can't survive...it's the thing that makes you better than you used to be." Funny how I can do some easy reading and extract a line that makes the most sense.
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