Water Works
We've been quiet on our blog for quite a while. While we're more active on Instagram in general, we've also slowed down a bit there, too. We hope this post helps to explain why and to serve as a catalyst for us to post more consistent material.
Meredith:
We've been grieving. The pain hasn't been perpetually present, but it's still there, like a consistent, dull throb. It hasn't gone away, but we've settled into a new rhythm where we learn to live with the ache and without our best friend, Deke.
Deke was our 16-year-old black lab. The loss of a pet is a difficult grief to explain. There's no bereavement policy in an employee handbook that stipulates the number of days you can take off to mourn. But in addition to the inability to describe and justify the sadness to others, there's also a host of other feelings that come along with being a part of a mixed family that the three of us created.
You see, Deke wasn't my dog from the start. I wasn't a part of his beginning, and I would argue that it wasn't me who took him in. Along our journey, Deke was the one who adopted me.
Deke was Scott's dog. Actually, Deke was his son's dog. But, four years ago, when Scott's life was thrown into a tailspin, Deke was left behind along with Scott. The two of them, both abandoned in some way, became an inseparable duo. When Scott and I began dating, Deke was a part of it. When we moved in together, Deke moved in, too.
I've always been a pet owner. But life with Deke was different. I became part "owner" and caregiver. He taught me more than any other dog that's come into my life before - love and responsibility among them. And, Scott and I didn't know each other without Deke present. We didn't know our relationship without this unconditionally loving creature.
Losing Deke also sparked an intense feeling of guilt. Who was I to grieve a dog that was never mine? Deke was the only one left when everyone walked out of his life. Who am I to cry over his departure? Certainly Scott had more to mourn.
Scott:
We said goodbye on July 3. We really relied on the water to help heal us. It was important that part of that terrible day was spent on the water.
For us, the water has a calming effect. When I'm on the water there are no distractions. I was able to reflect peacefully about my life with Deke. I wasn't sitting in an empty living room, staring at the floor next to me where he'd normally be laying.
The next day I immersed myself in hosting a July 4th paddle. Five of our friends joined us and we ended up meeting up with even more paddlers as we watched the D.C. fireworks from the Potomac.
It was more than just a distraction. Being on the water and with other paddlers helped us start to heal.
Getting back into a routine also helped. I still had SUP classes to teach, SUP camps to run, and races to compete in. It didn't hurt that we have an amazing crew of Monday night students. These folks have been meeting with us for over three years and some have paddled with us for much longer. It's like a family. And having your family surround you with their love and support makes all of the difference.
But that's the paddling community. The waterman community is unlike any other I've ever been a part of.
I'm an amateur rock and ice climber and have bagged many summits across the country.
I'm an amateur mountain bike racer and have raced up and down the East Coast back when the bikes didn't have shocks or pedal clips (ouch!).
Most recently I've joined the running community, mostly thanks to Meredith (or not).
But none of these communities have the familial type of closeness that the waterman community has. And I'm so thankful to be a part of it, especially when life gets difficult.
Meredith:
With a little time, a lot of paddling, and a ton of friendship, we've started to heal our hearts. And while life will never be the same without our best friend, we've moved past much of the anger and sadness thanks to our time on the water.
