In case you're wondering why things have been so quiet on this site in the last few months, this figure shows the mood of your average PhD student as a function of time. It was generated by a friend of mine who just completed his degree in December after a long and courageous battle. The gray dot indicates my present location -- at least on the time axis.
But dammit it will all be over soon. And I hope that it will end on the "Woo!" side...
A quick note to fill in a few blanks from last week's post. First, I am getting back to my normal self as the emotional strain from last week is releasing itself.
The search was one of the roughest I've experienced. Looking for two teenagers, suspecting the worst while hoping it is only a prank, has its toll. In addition, it was a high-profile search: our staging area was swarming with media, family, friends, and curious onlookers. It was also my first time being involved in the management side of a real search. On Wednesday, I was on site from 4:30 am until 10:45 pm, dealing with search management issues.
Throughout my years working on the search team, I have learnt that I am often proficient at blocking out emotions during these events. This allows me to think and act calmly. Essentially, I hide in an objective "shell" and guard myself from emotions during the event. Though I hate to say it in such cold language, it can almost feel like I am playing a game at times. In many ways, this is an advantage for the lost person. While it does not remove the sense of urgency from the event, it allows for clear thinking and (hopefully) sound judgement. A sense of responsibility, rather than one of frantic compassion, ensures thoroughness and efficiency of one's actions. I believe that this response is enhanced by the training. Having practised what to do, over and over, one's mind is able to focus on the actual doing.
When the search is over, however, the reality of the outcome -- especially if it is a negative one -- begins to percolate into my thinking. Last week, instead of slowly removing my protective shell, it was smashed violently by the reality around me. Suddenly it was over. Family and friends, dozens of them, were consoling each other in front of the media and other onlookers. The fire department had counsellors helping them handle their grief. Paramedics were present, monitoring those who were responding to the news more traumatically. Onlookers gathered to watch the body bags be transferred from the boats to the trucks. The medical examiner was milling around in search of the that site, since it was at a different location than the staging area of the search. I found myself watching all this, walking around, wanting to help, but knowing that there were trained and qualified people already doing that, and realizing that I would be in the way. I did not want to stare, but I did not want to do nothing either. There was still plenty to do on site, however, and it did not take long for a fury activity to return to the site. As it turned out, it was not until about 3 hours after the conclusion that I got home, was able to stop, and shed my first tear.
That brief pause that I took to look around me, however, the snap-shot of hysteria and realization, still engulfs for brief moments. In the last few days, it has been the processing of those images that has occupied my thoughts. The hard part is knowing not to ignore these impulses of emotion, and to deal with them and talk about them. For this, I am express immeasureable gratitude to Allie, without whom such traumatic events would be too much to handle.
...
Today, after having had a few days to consider what happened, I am starting to feel better. The search community, which included the fire department, the police department (both municipal and federal), the Department of Natural Resources, and volunteer search teams from across the province, performed exceptionally well together. Everybody was concerned and wanted to find the missing teenagers, nobody was doing anything for their ego. We did the best we could and gave all we could, which made the initial internal response harsh. Everyone is aware, however, that there is nothing we could have done to change the outcome. This was a traumatic event for two families, a community of young individuals, and local society, and we did what we could to alleviate that trauma.
The funerals for the two boys will be held today. While I cannot attend, I will be thinking of them, their family, and their peers.
Jeremiah was a fellow oceanographer, a fellow ultimate player, and a friend. Shortly after I left Hawaii, he married a former resident of my home there. The soon-to-be newlyweds gave me one of the most beautiful leis I'd ever seen on my last night on the islands before moving back to Canada.
A few years ago, Jeremiah left oceanography to become a science teacher at a local high school. He thrived in that role.
Earlier this week, however, he lost his life suddenly while on a field trip. From the sounds of things, he just jumped into the water on a free-dive, and that was it. He didn't resurface. By the time rescuers could get to him, it was too late.
That is the tragic news that greeted me this morning when I checked my email.
I am a little stunned today. And a little saddened. When I first got the news of his death, I didn't know what had happened but I had a feeling the ocean was involved. He was a child of the islands, and had a connection with the ocean. If there is any solace in the story of his death, it is that he was sharing his passion for the ocean environment with his students at the time.
I was not only a friend of his, but also of his wife and his father, both of whom also played ultimate. On more than one occasion, we hung out on the ultimate field when the night's games were over and the lights had gone out, sharing beers and sharing stories.
Today, my thoughts are with his wife and his young daughter. He was a positive influence in so many lives, and will be dearly missed by many.
This is Benj:
Benj and I have had a special friendship for as long as I've known. He is five years my elder, but when we met (I think I was about 4) we hit it off and became instant best friends.
Benj was handed mental and physical disabilities at birth, which is the first thing anyone will notice when they see him. However, he also has an amazing charisma and infectious love for life. This charisma made him a local celebrity on our street where we grew up as next-door neighbours. Everyone knew him, and everyone took care of him. He could walk out his front door in downtown Toronto at 8 p.m., and his family knew he would be fine. When I first met him we were of comprable "mental age". We would have fun riding our Big Wheels together or stomping on ants on the sidewalk.
As we grew up, however, this changed. At some point I became aware of what was happening...I was growing up faster than him. This was hard to take, and for a few years our friendshp suffered. But with time, I learned to accept this change in our friendship. It went from having a best friend to having a younger cousin or a younger brother. One of his most common questions to me was "Are you happy?" to which my truthful reply was "Only if you are". He became someone I would always want to take care of and always want to have fun with. Suddenly I realized that our relationship haddened actually changed...everything was always about having fun.
His house became a haven for me where I could escape the stresses of everyday adolescence, be it due to school or family or girls or anything else. No matter what was happening, we just continued to fly kites, catch frogs at the pond, watch Herbie movies, or play Hungry Hippos. Throughout my adolescence, we stayed great friends. I wrote essays about our friendship during highschool, and two television documentaries talked about our friendship. In the first one I was 5 and didn't have much to say, but in the second I was 15 and got interviewed extensively. That one ends with me saying something to the effect of:
Sometimes I wonder what will happen. I won't live here forever. What if I move or I go to university and move to another city? [pause] I know we'll stay friends forever.
Two years after the filming, I moved halfway across town. Then I left Toronto to study the in Montreal and Vancouver. Somewhere during that time Benj and his mom moved to L.A. where is two sisters were already living. As I predicted at the awkward age of 15, we've kept in touch. In the two visits I've made to California since he moved there, I've spent a couple of days visiting him. I have asked him to be in my wedding party, and he has accepted and is excited about it.
This week I discovered a something new about Benj. There has been a book published about him. There is something very special about this book. It is written by his mother. Benj's mother is a clinical psychologist that specializes in children with disabilities. So in a sense, he is very lucky to be have been born to her. She knows how to help Benjamin live a full life.
Benj's mother has encouraged his interests and helped his development always. Whether it was getting a dog or a turtle, or learning to play the harp (the Harp!!), or joining the local bowling league, or playing hockey, or finding temp work, she has made it happen. Thanks in no small part to her, Benj is a hard worker, an accomplished athlete, and a musician. He lives a very full life, and is one of the most sincerely happy people you could ever hope to meet.
As I told his mother in a recent letter to her, I am very excited about this book. It is both a personal and a professional description of his development, and will give me a deeper insight into one of the most important people in my life. And in addition, just thinking about reading this book is reminding me of everything our friendship has meant over the years.
