Family

Virginia is for Lovers?

This family of four was forced to live on a pittance. Three months, countless interviews, and a stack of resumes later, the house in southern Indiana was closed up and left unsold.  We packed our belongings and moved 500 miles away to the Allegheny Mountains of Virginia.  We knew things were going to be a little bit different from our Midwestern lifestyle as soon as we headed up that first mountain road at 55 mph on a 15 mph curve. The shock set in as the road coiled round and round while our ears popped and the baby spit up his breakfast.  I, too, felt the nausea rising in my throat as we continued our ascent. To control that feeling, I focused on the trees outside the window in the George Washington National Forest. It didn’t work. When I spotted a Scenic Overlook, my husband quickly pulled over. Once I set foot on the ground, my dizziness subsided and I could appreciate the breathtaking view of a powerful waterfall’s misty torrents cascading to the green valley below. It was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen!  Mountainous peaks touched the clouds as flocks of cardinals soared through the sky overhead. The fresh crisp air smelled of damp wildflowers. It was enough to revive my senses in order to continue traveling upward.  


Rocks jutted from the ground somehow appearing like a violation of the land. A log cabin or two nestled back against the mountainside. The cattle, scattered throughout the terrain, hardly noticed the passing car on that two-lane highway.  Things were getting remote when houses turned from modest dwellings into tin-roofed shacks with the boastful washer and dryer perched on the front porch for all to see. The sight of a Confederate flag waving in the wind alerted me to the possibility of Time standing still. Once we arrived at our final destination, a tiny village of 50, I began to reacclimate.   Crossing the lawn between two houses, a man hollered out, “Haaa…Y’all from the flatlands?  Ma name’s Mac. Welcome to Bath County!”  Then he proudly began to tell us about our new homestead. “Been in the family for years,” he beamed. “This here’s an original Sears & Robuck house that was ordered out of the catalog over a hundred years ago and shipped piece-by-piece up the mountain on a railroad that no longer exists.”  As I was about to retreat to the car, the sluggish moving van arrived. It was left parked along the side of the road on a shoulder that barely existed. The driver jumped out, waved, and asked, “Where to, Lady?”  I simply shrugged my shoulders and said with a sigh, “Up the hill. Follow me.”

The World of “What If?”

My grandfather was a tall man. Not as tall as a professional basketball player, but he towered above the other members of the family and especially the farm animals. His stentorian voice brought respect from all the field hands, although he could be as gentle as a summer breeze with the ponies and calves.  His sunburned face reflected the length of the day. The old straw hat protected his head from the burning sun, and yet it enhanced his piercing blue eyes. His bib overalls were thread-bare from constant wear.  Nicknamed “Old John”, he was always the first one to arise so he could “smell Mother Earth before she woke up”.  Every morning he’d head to the barn to begin the unending chores. He loved that old barn, and even though it was his haven in times of trouble and times of joy, a place to which he could escape, it was in that barn that Grandpa shot himself. I never knew my grandfather. The news of his suicide shocked my mother into premature labor with me. The only memory I have of him is a framed black and white photo where he’s standing next to that old barn holding my mother’s hand when she was a small child. 


Why was life so unbearable for Grandpa?  When did he decide he couldn’t take it anymore?  Was there no one he could turn to for help?  Had he thought about that tiny unborn grandchild he would never see?  Did he know that I would feel robbed of the opportunity to know him?  Did he even consider the impact his death would have on my mother?  Didn’t he realize that my birthday would forever remind my mother of his death?  Suicide leaves a trail of unanswered questions. The word implies rejection. Suicide rejects family, friends, and any chance of a future. It’s usually a cry for help or a means of escape. But sometimes it takes great strength to survive, to live on through the depression and pain. It’s just not that simple anymore. If there’s a chemical imbalance in the brain, suicidal tendencies occur. Although doctors have discovered how to control the imbalance with medication, the problems continue if the person feels he cannot confide in the doctor to get help. That’s when suicide looks like the perfect choice, the only alternative to life’s trials and tribulations. Death appears to be the ideal solution to a troubled soul. Unfortunately, no one who has ever committed suicide has returned to the world to enlighten us on the pros and cons of being dead. We can only assume they are at peace. Families experience guilt and blame over a suicide victim. It’s so unfair to place that burden on the living because they have chosen to endure life’s trials. Death is not an option for them. Life is a gift, one that needs to be carefully unwrapped and shared daily for the benefit of others.