I have two friends who are both wheelchair bound, kind of. I met the first when we were Jeeping Idaho’s Owyhee mountains. We eating lunch before rock crawling up a steep, boulder strewn dry creek bed. Two guys road up on at a to watch us and I started to chat with one. After a few minutes, he mentioned that he was a paraplegic, so I said, “ya, and I’m Jerry Garcia.” He chuckled and said “no, really!”
So I started asking him questions. How often did he ride? Every chance he gets. Did he ever go by himself? If no one else was available to go with him. Did he ever get in trouble by himself? One, he said, he rolled it on its side and although he wasn’t injured, he spent the night before he was found. “It would be way better to kick off out here than to do it in a hospital tied to tubes.
My other friend is also a paraplegic and rides his ORV for hundreds of miles in the Nevada sand dunes and Idaho mountains.
Both have the attitude that they are not disabled, they are inconvenienced.
It sounds like your friend lived the same way. It’s tough to know whether to be sad for the loss or grateful for his friendship.
When I was a candy striper, I met a guy my age who have a para. He had set up a ham radio station on his bedside table and the antenna was a gerryrigged hanger. A few months later, my friend, who went to the same high school as this guy, sluffed school with me and we met him in the hallways. It was like he was on a free pass or something. Anyway, he wheeled himself up a full flight of stairs there, which blew me away. It's like after the initial months of grief and occupational therapy, these people learn what their capacities are, then they push the edges for the rest of their lives, doing some amazing things. It's like devastating personal tragedy like this lights a fire in some people and goads them to excel rather than waste away in self-pity and victimhood.
A lovely eulogy for a remarkable young man. The Grateful Dead story sent tears down my cheeks. Your poem could have been written by Auden. Thank you, Sue.
I'm so sorry for your loss, Sue, and for his mother. This feels so poignant and helpful: "There would always be helpers; so it was only natural that he learned there were ways he could help others as well." A life well spent, a rest well deserved, under the trees.
Oh Sue, I'm so sorry for your loss. Greg sounded like a fabulous guy. That Grateful Dead concert story - AWESOME!
Thank you, Rebecca. Indeed, that story about the concert ... it would definitely lift a person's view of life in many different ways.
I have two friends who are both wheelchair bound, kind of. I met the first when we were Jeeping Idaho’s Owyhee mountains. We eating lunch before rock crawling up a steep, boulder strewn dry creek bed. Two guys road up on at a to watch us and I started to chat with one. After a few minutes, he mentioned that he was a paraplegic, so I said, “ya, and I’m Jerry Garcia.” He chuckled and said “no, really!”
So I started asking him questions. How often did he ride? Every chance he gets. Did he ever go by himself? If no one else was available to go with him. Did he ever get in trouble by himself? One, he said, he rolled it on its side and although he wasn’t injured, he spent the night before he was found. “It would be way better to kick off out here than to do it in a hospital tied to tubes.
My other friend is also a paraplegic and rides his ORV for hundreds of miles in the Nevada sand dunes and Idaho mountains.
Both have the attitude that they are not disabled, they are inconvenienced.
It sounds like your friend lived the same way. It’s tough to know whether to be sad for the loss or grateful for his friendship.
When I was a candy striper, I met a guy my age who have a para. He had set up a ham radio station on his bedside table and the antenna was a gerryrigged hanger. A few months later, my friend, who went to the same high school as this guy, sluffed school with me and we met him in the hallways. It was like he was on a free pass or something. Anyway, he wheeled himself up a full flight of stairs there, which blew me away. It's like after the initial months of grief and occupational therapy, these people learn what their capacities are, then they push the edges for the rest of their lives, doing some amazing things. It's like devastating personal tragedy like this lights a fire in some people and goads them to excel rather than waste away in self-pity and victimhood.
My Deepest condolences, Sue. Greg sounded like an amazing man whose resilience and determination was exemplary.
I wish I could've know him better, but I became speechless and stupid whenever I was in his presence. Even when he was a kid.
A lovely eulogy for a remarkable young man. The Grateful Dead story sent tears down my cheeks. Your poem could have been written by Auden. Thank you, Sue.
Thank you, Sharron. One thing I love about Celebrations of Life is what can be learned by people who know the deceased.
I'm so sorry for your loss, Sue, and for his mother. This feels so poignant and helpful: "There would always be helpers; so it was only natural that he learned there were ways he could help others as well." A life well spent, a rest well deserved, under the trees.
Thank you, Portia.