Grief: Part 2
The muse comes, leaves...and comes again?
I don’t know how to write this. I don’t know how to organize it or make you all understand. It isn’t about foraging or health or preparedness and it’ll probably cause some to unsubscribe. Honestly, I probably shouldn’t even be writing this right now.
As my dad says, if you don’t know where to start, start at the start. In 2008 a nature-loving girl had just graduated from high school in Houston. She liked the idea of learning wild edibles and a search turned up several foraging websites, including mine. She had lots of questions which she considered “dumb”, but couldn’t find their answers anywhere. She emailed them to several foraging instructors, but I was the only one who responded. More importantly, she said I didn’t make her feel dumb for asking and explained things clearly with both humor and respect.
She attended my classes but was too shy to introduced herself, so I never knew she was there. She had the mind of a scientist and loved lab work, so she got a degree in biology, hoping to work in doing meaningful environmental research. She also gave very astute help organizing and improving foragingtexas.com over the years.
Everything was going well, then the cancer hit. Battling it left her physically wrecked in many ways, but no need for details on that. It coupled with some other traumas put her in a reclusive state for quite a while. One of her few joys was seeing all my outdoor adventures. She loved hiking, camping, RenFest, and the such. My social media posts allowed her to live those things vicariously.
It wasn’t until 2022 that she actually revealed to me in person that she had been the girl back in 2008 and all the years since then. She was still mostly reclusive but things I had hinted about in my past made her think I’d understand the damages her body had suffered, and she wanted help dealing with coming to terms with herself. She guessed correctly.
In exchange, she constantly reminded me of the importance of my work. No longer faceless, she became the face of all you fans, cheering me on, especially at times when things became very tough/dark for me.
You have her to thank that I didn’t walk away from everything after Medicine Man Plant Co. imploded.
Some cancers can be beat and some just retreat. The autopsy report hasn’t been released yet, but based on certain physical issues she had been displaying these last six months, I suspect the cancer came back and overran her already severely damaged organs before it was realized. There weren’t any signs of foul play…she was just dead. The muse of Foraging Texas was gone.
I was inconsolable after getting the news Saturday. I had to hide inside, unable to look at anything natural. All I could think about was her lying in a stainless steel drawer, in the dark basement of a morgue, freezing. She hated being cold and she hated steel and she hated being trapped inside. Gone, gone, GONE!
Most of you know I’m very Catholic, with all the beliefs for this world and the next. So what happened next is still requiring me to think about a lot of things. Three things occurred.
Saturday night I had a dream - Johnathon, the person who informed me of her death, was in the dream. Strangely, we were in high school, just before lunch, talking about her death. Through the school window, I could see it snowing outside. We had lunch and then were sent outside until lunchtime was over. Johnathon, a bunch of her friends, and I gathered under a pavilion but a crack in it let snow continue to fall directly onto me, but no one else. Then an unknown lady joined us. She was radiant, glowing like gold in bright sun. She came beside me and suddenly the snow turned to Mexican hat wildflowers. The lady and I took turns catching the blossoms as they fell, then she turned to me smiling and said, “You don’t need to be sad.”
For the last few weeks, she had become infatuated with the idea of catching and eating a bunch of wild crawfish but she didn’t know how or where to do this. Of course, I was able to tell her, but she never managed to get out and do it. Yesterday morning another close friend finally dragged me out for a hike, hopping it would help. Along the trail, far from any water, I found an unused crawfish trap. There was no logical reason it’d be there.
Several weeks ago I had emailed my publisher about a new book idea on edible mushrooms, but got no response. When I checked emails after getting home from the hike their was an email from the publisher stating they were very interested in such a book. They need more details from me before final approval, but based on how well my previous foraging book is still selling, there’s a lot of goodwill towards me from the publisher. She LOVED seeing mushrooms and had a standing request that I send her pictures of every mushroom I find.
The end result is I’m feeling a little less bleak. I think she really is in a better place, but still watching over me, continuing to help me, and telling me to keep doing this. I refuse to ponder it any deeper than that or try to fit it into the believed mechanics of the universe.
The next time you are out with friends and can do so, order a shot of Bushmill’s (her favorite) and give a silent toast thanking her. She HATED any sort of attention, but will understand this and forgive my request.
Stay wild.