What You Can Do

In 2007, I was part of an AmeriCorps program in which we traveled around the country trying to make a difference.  We spent a whole lot of time together - training, working, traveling, hanging out - and soon enough we became a bizarre yet tight knit group (see entry below, explanation of "the Moment").  There is no way to describe how 100 people can develop such an intense feeling of community over such a relatively short period of time. But through crazy adventures, crazy drama, and lots and sweat and tears, we became family, and we got each other through 9 months of beautiful insanity.

It's been over two years since the program ended, and many of us have not seen each other since.  I myself am notoriously bad at staying in touch with even close friends, and 100 people is a lot of close friends to keep track of.  Still, occasionally I check in with (read: stalk) my AmeriCorps family on Facebook, which I suppose makes it appropriate that Facebook is how I heard the news of one of the other program members passing last Monday.

A lot of us heard that way, actually.  Shock, fear, confusion, and grief exploded outward across walls, status updates, texts and messages to one another.  How could this happen?  Is this for real?  Could we have done anything?  What if something, anything had been different?

Why him?


Grief is a mysterious, terrible process, and we are still wading through these and many more questions.  I suppose if there is any silver lining to be associated with this blackest of all clouds, it is the re-manifestation of love and connection between those of us who knew him and who now need one another's support to make it through these days.

The world is darker without our friend.  But his passing has reminded us of the light we have remaining in each other.

I should say here that I cannot and would not speak for all of the others affected directly by this news.  I should say that silver lining is where I am at least finding my own comfort in this moment, along with warm memories of his humor, kindness, openness, and inimitable hair.

Additionally, this blog is about my experience with another traveling project, which at this point hasn't even really started, and upon which this friend never commented.  But I am telling these stories in this particular forum for a very simple reason:

All we have is each other, you guys.  That's what AmeriCorps was about, that's what this Ride is about, and ultimately that's what family is about.  Life, however long - or short - is never easy, and is often filled with pain, fear, and isolation.  We have to do whatever we can to make it better for one another.  We will sometimes, probably often, fail at this, but we have to try.  We just have to.


Those of you who are taken to doing such things:  sending love and prayers to him, his family, and those closest to him will mean so much.  Additionally, his family has requested that donations in his memory go to the Red Cross.  Considering how much time we all spent in the Gulf addressing hurricane aftermath, and how much work the Red Cross is now doing addressing earthquake aftermath, I believe that any gift would have been meaningful to him.

Beyond that, volunteer somewhere.  Give charitably.  Vote.  Stand up and speak out for justice every chance you get.  And go tell someone you love them today.  Completely, unconditionally, honestly, and openly.  It's okay if you haven't talked to them in awhile.  Because family is still family, and that is what we can do to help each other through.