Nov 9, 2010

Tuesday, November 9, 2010 Dead or Alive?

Most people that know me know that although I am generally very upbeat and can laugh about pretty much anything, there is a side to me that suffers from a fair bit of anxiety. I’m a worrier. I worry that I’m not doing quite enough for my daughter, I worry my parents will get sick and I haven’t spent nearly enough time with them, I worry that our collective fucked up consciousness will cause another massive natural disaster and thousands of innocent people will suffer and die, I worry I don’t do enough for my students, I worry that something really awful will happen in my life (like a family member will be killed or get cancer again) and my comfortable little life will be shattered. I try not to dwell on it, but it does pop into my pretty little head once in a while.

Lately the ‘target’ of my worry has been a dear friend of mine that I’ve known for over half my life. He’s someone that through the years I have been through a LOT with, and we’ve always tried to be there for one another when things got really, really low. This friend has not had an easy life. He has battled some real demons and lived through some extremely tough shit. Recently he found out that he had another daughter, one he had never met (if she is anything like his other daughter, he would definitely want to meet her. Anyone would!) Upon finding out about her, he immediately took a leave of absence to comb the most violent, drug infested area of Vancouver to look for a daughter he never met and didn’t know if she was dead or alive. But that is my friend. He would do as much for a stranger. He is just so full of love and one of the most spiritual people I know, and even though he has struggled through so many of lifes difficult battles (and won), he’s NEVER played the victim card and still manages to stay positive, maintain his killer sense of humour, and continue his quest for spiritual enlightenment.

The last time I saw him, we pulled this crazy stunt where we decided to raft and kayak about 60 miles down the north Saskatchewan river. It was a trip that should have taken 3 or 4 hours, but it ended up taking 7. (the raft sprung a hole in it, a huge storm blew up, all kinds of things went wrong). But I remember feeling safe with him and knowing that no matter what, we would get back because he was an experienced ‘woodsman’ and wouldn’t let anything happen to me. Floating down that river together, in the beautiful wilderness, was just so peaceful and relaxing, and just what I needed to restore my broken spirit at the time. We stopped on a little island for lunch, had several water fights, and just enjoyed being on the water. It was one of the best days of my adult life.

When we finally reached our destination, we were exhausted, worn out, but happy. As we hugged goodbye he told me he was going to scout out another river trip for us. Since his giant raft had a hole in it, I told him just to use my kayak. So he picked it up a couple weeks later and headed out to his campsite with it. Being a worrier, the thought crossed my mind that if he somehow lost all his perfectly honed survival skills and ended up drowning, then it would be MY fault because I encouraged him to take my kayak, and to find us another spot for another perfect day.

My fears grew even stronger when I didn’t hear from him in several weeks. Not one word. Not a text, no phone call. Nothing. I have left him several messages, and he is someone who ALWAYS calls me back in the next day or two at the most. Whenever I need to go for coffee or just need a laugh, he is there with his sparkly smile and twinkling eyes to make me laugh and melt my troubles away. but I just have this gut feeling that something is wrong. I can feel it. This is so not like him. Someone suggested that he just wanted to keep the boat so he just took off. But they obviously don’t know Ricky. He would NEVER sacrifice a 25 year friendship for a kayak worth a measly few hundred bucks. He just wouldn’t. I would trust this guy with the keys to my house, my kid, my life. So why am I typing out this story when I should be marking papers?? Because more and more I believe that what you put out into the universe, sends a message, and affects or alters either conciousnes or reality. Maybe he will somehow get the message and let me know he’s ok. maybe someone will read this, say a little prayer for him, and it will help. Now I am starting to feel like he did when he went to Van looking for his missing daughter not knowing if she is alive or dead. I miss him and I hope he’ll call soon.