The Passing of a Prickly Mountain Man
Musings on my father's recent death, family love, and how we all might become better ancestors
On November 11, 2023, my dad, Neil, passed away in the home we shared in the Tetons. When he took his last breath, he was surrounded by a handful of his adult grandchildren, me and my sister, and our significant others, and four dogs standing at attention.
For the past ten days, I’ve been seeking grace by reading poetry, journaling, exploring my Medicine Woman Tarot cards I bought on a recent trip to Taos, sharing memories with friends and family, and looking through old photos and letters he wrote to my mom when they were young. Frantic spats of gardening, laundry, and cleaning have been interspersed with moments standing naked in the upstairs kitchen sink, wondering what I was looking for and what I should do next.
This is my favorite photo. My dad was a geologist who explored the world in search of gold, silver, and other valuable minerals, and I think he looks so happy in the company of his gold-mining buddies. His first real adventures were hitchhiking across the country from Boston to Alaska to work in mining camps to pay his way through Harvard. He was happiest in the mountains, exploring, adventuring, working hard, and, most likely, drinking whiskey.
My dad was a prickly man …
And everyone who knew him knew this. A good friend dropped this gorgeous orchid off in this strange vase the day after he passed – the collar on the pot was so sharp, you could barely touch it—a perfect metaphor for Gramp.
What is lineage, if not a gold thread of pride and guilt?
You can’t sum it up, a life
~2 lines I wrote down from various poems by Ada Limon
Buddhism, Hinduism, and many other schools of thought teach us that we all have a shadow side and a side that seeks the light. It’s up to us to decide which side to focus on, nourish, and lead from. We know where we focus our attention becomes our reality. Growing into something good requires our thoughts and actions and forgiveness, for we – and everyone else – are simply human.
As I process what I’ve written in my journal and the thoughts I haven’t had the nerve to write down, I have decided that a good start is to share, as always, ideas that will make the world a better place. (Thank you, Laura Stivers, if you read this!)
How Can We All Be Better Ancestors?
I’ve been keeping notes for six months on this idea inspired by
, an enrolled member of the Little Shell Tribe of Chippewa, whom I met at the Jackson Hole Writer’s Conference last June. La Tray was recently named Montana’s next poet laureate; you can read more about him in his Substack: An Irritable Métis.This is simply a list … all these ideas need more development and I’d love to hear your ideas.
A Better Ancestor:
Loves themselves deeply.
Focuses on and cultivates the light, the good, the beautiful.
Look their shadow side in the eye and take full responsibility for it.
Embodies the interconnection between all living things.
Softens and lets go of tight, empirical boundaries. They stay curious, fluid, and open in their thinking and are respectful of diverse ideas and beliefs.
Continually cultivate a “beginner's mind” and live full of curiosity until their dying day. They find no room for rigid thinking.
Accepts that the truth is unknowable, different for all of us, and not worth killing for.
Lightens the burden of being human when they stop judging.
Raises risk takers.
Give more than they take and give love freely without expecting anything in return.
Recognizes and stops an addiction to perfection.
Believes in reciprocity and the pendulum of energy, fully trusting that what we put out to the universe will always come back
Is attuned to their body and Mother Earth.
Is always in the present, able to receive, play hard, and disappear into awe and spirit.
Sits quietly in nature and lets their heart lead the way.
Awakens each day with a grateful heart.
A better ancestor acknowledges that life is
painfully beautiful and joyfully agonizing and that
every human is complex and simple and that
free will is an oxymoron and that
love is both fleeting and permanent and that
every single body is a physical, spiritual miracle and that
not a person alive knows where our energy blows when that
last whisper of air leaves our
cold soft lips.
Two finches flirting
among November aspens
calm my aching heart.
While there’s much more to write about my dad, my relationship with him, and his contributions to this planet, I thought this was a good place to start.
May your weekend be filled with family, friends, and gratitude.
XO Sue
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I am truly sorry for your loss. I always thought your dad was "bigger than life" and I believe you inherited that adventurous gene. I lost my dad last year and I never knew how difficult grief could be. It's a gut punch every time I wake up.
During his twelve-month battle with leukemia, I was able to spend a lot of time with my dad. We all had the opportunity to tell him how much we loved him and he shared so many wonderful stories and experiences with us that will hopefully continue to be passed down through future generations. I love the concept of being better ancestors. I am going to share this with my children and grandchildren.
As always, beautiful writing! You are such an inspiration!
Dear Sue,
Condolences on your loss. No matter the age, losing a parent is a big deal.
I really like the concept of being a better ancestor as I am looking at how to be engaged with the younger generations. It is a good way to view our role. Thank you, Laura