Two Months

Today it's been two months since the phone call came. My brother, Jesse, was in a car accident in Wyoming; his car spun out and rolled into a ravine, he got out and told the witness he was okay, and then he collapsed and died.

We hear a lot about death on the news, in movies, etc., but it's still such a vague, abstract concept. To think that one moment Jesse was on his way to a job interview - planning to visit other siblings and me on the way back - and the next he was gone from this life - never to meet that interviewer or be greeted by his favorite niece - is just so confusing. It brings up feelings of guilt for things said or not said, shock at the frailty of life, and heartbreak at the realization of each future event he will miss.

I didn't get to say goodbye to Jesse, and every now and then I feel the sting of that fact. I called home the evening before for my regular weekly chat, but he had gone to bed already, and Mom said she'd have him call me when he got to his hotel the next day. I did speak to him the week before, but I don't remember what we said to each other or what my last words to my brother were - probably the usual "Well, have a good week; talk to you later." Knowing I have to wait for probably decades to say anything to Jesse again has changed how I interact with my living siblings. I'm so afraid of not getting the chance to say goodbye, so I'm trying to be better about hugging, saying "I love you," and always including my new parting phrase: "Be safe."

I don't know that I can say Jesse and I were really close; we're separated by a 7-year age gap, and he graduated high school before I reached middle school. However, he influenced the person I've become in many ways. My earliest memories of Jesse are of his teasing me (trying to scare me like a normal big brother), but there were also times he entertained and played with me. I know that I tried hard to be funny and develop a sense of humor largely because I wanted to keep up with Jesse and earn his approval. I was lucky when it came time to move to college that Jesse and Aaron were living out here. Jesse did so much to help me get here and get settled, he helped me with car maintenance, and he even built the computer I'm using to write this post. I wish we could have had more experiences together, and I wish he'd get to meet the guy I marry someday (I'd like to meet him, too- ha ha).

One thing this has taught me is that we are never immune from tragedy; I thought our family had gone through enough before I got to college, and that those were maybe the hardest experiences I'd ever have to endure. This has certainly trumped them all, and I hate to imagine what else is in store for the rest of my life - or how short that life may be.
 
Through it all, I've been so grateful for the knowledge the gospel of Christ offers that our lives did not begin at birth and they don't end with death. Our bodies may break and rot, but our spirits are eternal, and eventually all will be resurrected as the Savior was. I know that Jesse is in a good place, and he's happy. I have to trust that everything is in God's hands, and maybe this was the best way for Jesse to progress eternally. I know that our family isn't truly broken and that we can live with Jesse again when we pass into this next phase of life; I expect it will be a happy reunion and hope that he's already had warm greetings on the other side.

Gestalt

I've been doing a lot of introspection lately, trying to figure out who I really am and what I want in life. To be honest, I have some weird combinations of personality traits.
I know I'm very much an introvert (I need alone time to re-energize), but I'm also shy - meaning I crave social interaction but lack confidence when it gets down to it. It's actually quite frustrating to have this inner battle going on where I want to be by myself, but then that's not good enough, but I feel incapable of making necessary changes.
I recently spent a Saturday evening working on my taxes while all my roommates were on dates. That's unusual, though: most weekend evenings I'm even less productive and only some of my roommates are on dates.

But on to more lighthearted stuff:
I enjoy birdwatching - especially when I can also ID the tree the bird is in.
Very few songs on my MP3 player feature female artists, and even so, most of the songs are comfortably within my vocal range.
Despite being a homebody most of the time, I love the outdoors and camping.
I'm an independent young woman, and I hate when girls rely on guys to change a flat tire, for example, but I also hate crazy feminists.
I listen to Greenday at my sewing machine and oldies while I clean the apartment.
I hate driving in snow but enjoy skiing and sledding.
I once designed and sewed a Mario-themed cross-stitch for my friends' wedding gift.
I prefer clever, intelligent humor, but I can't resist a good pun.
I love naps - any time of the day.
I'm not into the non-committal stuff, but I quite enjoy cuddling - it's been a while.
Loud people don't hear me, and I hear them way too much.
I feel uncomfortable listening to country music outside of a 4wd or 12-passenger vehicle.
I don't think I know how to effectively flirt.
I play the flute - which is why I hate most flautists; I have a soft spot for brass instruments and a weakness for brass players.
For Christmas I was given a ukulele by one parent and a bolt-action .22 long rifle by the other; I loved both gifts.
I really hope I don't end up being a weird dog lady - because I will have 1-2 dogs, single or not.
I like to imagine that driving standard transmission is something a guy will find attractive someday.
I've used my pocket knife to make a Valentine.

While many people will find it perplexing, I find that the more I learn about natural history and such in my science classes, the stronger my testimony grows of the creation and God's plan of happiness for His children.
The word "conservation" in my major title does not indicate that I'm some sort of chain-myself-to-a-tree yuppie: I am, however, a firm believer in managing natural resources responsibly, as we have been given stewardship over the earth.

What seems like an eclectic conglomerate of traits is actually what forms the essence of, well, me. Like most people, I haven't always liked myself or thought I'm worthwhile, but I've learned in recent years that, while there's always room for improvement, it's okay to be who I am, and the right people will appreciate me for it.