Loss on the trail…

Loss is hard. That is a blog post in itself. We experience loss in so many ways--for me it has always been a time where I felt the need to show up for others. It triggered this need to organize, be in control, and at the bottom of it all, deflect my own feelings. I have spent years perfecting this mask of strength and resilience. Not to say that I am not resilient, but it is easier to do when you push your feelings aside and focus on others. In my own way, it became my trademark move. Someone dies and you jump in to help plan, organize, give a eulogy, anything to take away from the gaping hole in your heart and feelings of depression and dread. 

I have been open in these posts about my mental health. This year has been a year of losses, but also a year of renewals. I lost my identity as an elementary educator and had to blaze a new trail in the world of high school. I have lost family members and pets. I have had to face my own traumas and fears as I navigate life as a bisexual man in a heterosexual marriage. There is no handbook for life, no map, or guide. I have, for the first time in a long time, relied on others to help me through things. I have sat back and observed others and my own feelings. I have let myself feel the feelings--to venture into the dark times--and navigate my way out. 

Recently, I lost someone very close to me. A man who

was like a second father--a guide, a sounding board, a fellow seagull in the flock of Kidd men--my Uncle Charles (for those of you who know me well you are reading that as Chaws (with a slight southern accent). I'd say he was my favorite uncle, but I would be lying--I have been blest with the Fab 5 as I call them (and their spouses). My dad and his siblings are pillars in my life--they have all played a key role in who I am, and I would not trade any of them for the world. As I have slowly lost them over the past few years, I am reminded of how precious family is--how the bonds we form are what hold us together. 

When my Uncle Charles died, another pillar was lost--I felt so alone. But I knew I needed to feel those feelings. For the first time ever, I took a step back. I let others help me grieve, and I savored the moment. Who would have thought that one would "savor" the moment of the loss of someone, but that is what I did. I allowed myself to let in the grief and pain and anger along with the memories that I cherish. My uncle was a person all his own. He was one that loved his family and supported all of us. He showered us with love and attention and gave me experiences that I will never forget. My early memories of "mountain climbing" in Catoctin or "taking to the seas" on the Oxford-Bellevue Ferry have stuck with me for decades. The irony in both of those memories is we never scaled a mountain in Catoctin and the Oxford-Bellevue ferry is a 3/4 mile ferry ride crossing the Tred Avon River--but he made them so special that they seemed larger than life adventures. 

Car rides, trips to Deep Creek, learning to ski in Cannane

Valley, the horses at Assateque and Chincotoque, kite festivals in Ocean City, drives to Lancaster and New England, the Christmas Craft Fair in Frederick, birthdays, holidays--the list is endless. Growing up, Uncle Charles was famous for loving lasagna and jokes about artichokes. He was our Garfield--I had lasagna for many a birthday dinner and we would always eat fast because Uncle Charles was there--he was always there. No milestone in my life was missed--birthdays, little league games, graduations, my wedding, the birth of my children--their life events--he was there. Garfield said of Odie "To you, Odie might be just a dumb, stupid, smelly dog. But to me, he's all that and much more. He's my friend" My uncle was my teacher, a dad, an uncle, and most importantly a friend.

 

I will cherish every memory, every car ride (even the long ones to get a fried oyster sandwich)--he made me the dad I am today, the man I am today, and the teacher I am today. Everything came with a story--a lesson to learn. I could write for days about all of the trips we took and memories we shared, but the life lessons are the ones I want to convey--Enjoy all the moments in life. Take risks and work hard for your dreams. Family is the most important thing that we have. A long drive to a good destination beats a day inside any day of the week.