the vigil

It was a hot sunny summer day, triple digits in the midst of a heatwave. After all the chores and work were done the boys jumped in Frankie’s F150 Ford and headed for Lucky Peak Reservoir, just east of Boise, and some fun. It is a hydro electric dam located downstream from Arrowrock Dam. When completed in 1915 Arrowrock was the tallest dam in the world. Some 42 miles upstream from there is the Anderson Ranch Dam adding storage for irrigation and all the demands of the burgeoning population of Boise and the fertile Treasure Valley. The south fork of the Boise River sinuously flowed like an umbilical chord connecting the three dams, before coursing through the city and out through the valley and emptying into the Snake, receiving its water from the Sawtooth Mountain Range.

In one of Lucky Peaks fingers the boys had found a secluded spot not used heavily by power boats and skidoo’s. Following a dirt road off the paved highway they parked and wove a path down to the water. An ice chest provided cold drinks. The heat was hot and the water was not, and getting in took a little adjusting too, but this was their special place as they returned time and time again. Brody, Travis’s best friend got out of the truck as a strange chill rippled through his body and a fearful foreboding seized his mind. He cocked his head and scanned the water and horizon. Nothing. But the feeling remained. He stood still until Frankie called, ‘you comin’? ‘I’m comin’ he shouted and zigzagged his way down to the edge, took off his shoes and jumped into the water.

The reprieve from the heat invigorated everyone and Brody dismissed his premonition, everyone relaxing and playing frisbee 500. Brody threw the frisbee to the other boys when a sudden gust of wind caused it to sail over their heads and Travis swam out to retrieve it. Then a sustained wind suddenly arose and the water became choppy. Dark clouds appeared overhead accompanied by the sound of thunder and Brody urged by a strong uneasiness yelled at his buddy’s to swim to shore. Looking to make sure everyone was coming, Brody back splashed, checking on his friends and yelled for Travis to throw him the frisbee. Catching it, and checking once again to make sure no one was struggling he turned and began to swim as they all paddled to shore with Travis lagging behind having retrieved the frisbee. Luke was the first ashore and turned around towards his friends, the first to realize Travis wasn’t there.

Casting a furtive glance up and down the vacant shoreline, Billy was the first one back in the water. Brody paused just long enough to get an approximate fix on the last place he remembered seeing Travis before plunging in and swimming with urgency to that spot and diving below the surface in search of his friend. Exhausted after repeated attempts to recover the body deep in the silky dark depths frantically reaching and clawing in the liquid darkness only to return hurriedly to the surface their lungs bursting for air. Luke spoke what none of them wanted to hear. ‘It’s back to the shore boys before fatigue pulls us all under. Last time I almost didn’t make it back to the surface’. Treading water and facing each other in a circle a look of resignation filled their faces. A couple of the boys began to object before cooler heads prevailed and they reluctantly swam ashore.

Reaching the shore they all sat, breathing hard, energy spent, facing the water, and sobbing uncontrollably. After a few minutes Brody said, ‘Frankie, we need you to drive to the dock and alert the authorities and our families. A dive team will come and conduct a search for Travis. We’ll wait here for your return’. ‘I’ll go with him’ Luke said, as they scurried up the embankment and the short drive down the road. ‘Park by the highway to direct them to our location’ Brody yelled now sitting in numbed silence next to Billy.

Travis was lean, muscled, and strong, a linebacker for Borah High School, with an infectious personality and perpetual smile. He was as good a friend as could be found. As he swam to shore after retrieving the frisbee he became a little disoriented from the choppy surface and threatening storm. Exhaustion seized his body and cramps set in. Finding it hard to keep his head above water, a feeble yell for help fell on death ears as his buddies noisily returned to shore. Then he was inexplicably pulled under the water a giant hand dragging him down to its murky depths. Fighting with all his might, his fleeting strength now well spent, his lungs burst. There was no air, only water. He was aware of movement above him and of his buddies diving as deep as they dared and once within three feet as he slowly sank into a watery grave. Currents near the bottom became very agitated as a guttural roar from a seismic shift carried his body farther away in its tectonic grip. His body appeared to sway like a tree in the wind before being sucked through an opening in an old Indians hovel and final resting place. His bones occupied a small portion of the space and now Travis’s buoyant body most of the rest.

For eight days divers searched unsuccessfully for the body in a well planned expanding radius. They found a collection of fishing and sporting items, even the remains of the wreckage of a boat, but no body. Any place a body could possibly be lodged produced no results. At the end of the eighth day they radioed the county sheriff’s that accompanied Travis’s parents who each day had watched the efforts from the shore. Sincerely apologizing for not finding the body of their son, their search was over. They could help no more.

Two weeks had passed as a small group of family and friends including Travis’s swimming buddies, lowered a casket into the ground. Just a few words were spoken and a benediction prayed before a shovel was passed, each person given the opportunity to toss a little dust on a empty pine box. There was no body inside and each shovel full of dirt seemed to echo a haunting refrain, mocking their efforts to symbolically put his body to rest.

That night as Travis’s mom and dad lay holding each other, Sam spoke. ‘I know if you live long enough everyone will experience the pain of personal loss, someone close to you and loved very much. All are destined to die. ‘Nobody gets out of life alive’. Some at a very young age, teenagers, adults, and if you live long enough, you are rewarded with the fragility of old age before being planted. But they say the loss of a child is one of the greatest pains. And it is. Children are supposed to bury their parents, not parents their sons and daughters. I think of war and young people who don’t know each other, and don’t hate each other, who kill each other based on decisions made by old men who know each other and hate each other, but don’t kill each other. Someone’s child sacrificed and the body often unrecovered. So we drape a flag over an empty coffin or body beyond recognition, the parents forced to hear an empty eulogy oft repeated with ceremony, ritual, and tradition that leaves an empty hollow and heart racking unresolved loss and pain. There is no closure’.

Pausing and after the release of a deep breath Sam said, ‘it’s what I need, closure’. Then Holly snuggled even closer wrapping her arm around him tight. ‘Sam. you do what you have to do. Just know your family loves and supports you, and we’ll be with you every step of the way’.

And so it was, a solitary figure could be seen sitting, searching the surface of the water for his firstborn, his only son. Every day. The days turned into weeks, the weeks to months, and the months into years. And still he came. At first his sobs could be heard as his body shook and cries of anger and anguish drifted out like a cloud across the water and over the hills before returning, a silent refrain. Now, there was solace in silence. It was Sam’s holy place, a place of communion with his father above and Travis below, an open air shrine and the healing of his mind. The greatest consolation coming when we remember our unbreakable connection to our creator and thus to others, the feeling of loss only temporary if the heart remains unwavering, if that is even possible. It was his alter at Mount Moriah were he offered his son, his Gethsemane ‘not my will but thine be done’.

And Sam remembered, a matinee in his mind, a treasure chest of cherished memories. Like the time along the roaring River of No Return. Travis was almost four standing next to me, his mother close by. It wasn’t his first time fishing and he watched attentively as I cast and let the bait float into a hole or behind a rock before reeling my line in and repeating the process over again. Looking upstream I saw my nephew who had come with us trying to undo a badly tangled line. ‘Uncle, I sure need your help’. ‘I’m comin’’ I said and handed my pole to Travis my little man standing with pant legs all gathered at his ankles with instructions not to do anything but just hold the pole tightly. ‘It’s best not to attempt to reel in the line creating a possible snag or tangle’, I told him.

Concentrating on my nephews problem, I momentarily forgot Travis until I heard him cry, ‘Dad, Dad you do it. It’s to hard for me’. I turned to see my pole bent at an intense angle jerking up and down. Quickly I ran over and gently helped Travis land an 18 inch cutthroat trout. Some how he had reeled it in all the way to the bank against a mighty strong current, rocky obstacles, and the big fish fighting hard all the way. It was simply too heavy for him to lift, needing help to get it ashore. With mouth wide open and a big smile I exclaimed, ‘Oh my goodness look what you caught son. Great job! I’m so proud of you. He was grinnin’ so hard his freckles about fell off. Returning to help my nephew, I glanced back at Travis who was looking at me his face aglow with the most beautiful smile and his eyes radiating such pleasure and accomplishment silently saying, ‘I did it Dad, I did it’! That image is indelibly imprinted in my mind. I will never forget.

Every day I would share memories with Travis, little league and playing baseball in our front yard with a wiffle ball and kids from the block. And there were vacations and birthdays, pleasant memories recited once again, and always the current news about family and friends. Along the way I recognized I was changing. Now not so quick to judge and criticize, showing mercy first with compassion. ‘I loved deeper and spoke sweeter and gave forgiveness I was denying, cherishing every moment with my beautiful wife and twin daughters now ten, Autumn and Alexa. I became a better father, husband, neighbor, and friend.

My vigil became a part of my life, almost as natural as sleepin’ and breathin’. On this beautiful fall day an early snow covered the tops of the highest peaks with white beards making them appear ancient. Sitting a smile crept over my face as I told Travis a simple story. A young devotee diligently searched for the holy man, his journey taking him to an isolated plateau surrounded by high mountains. It had been a long and arduous undertaking. Finding the holy man sitting solitary on the top of a hill he positioned himself close by.

Days passed and the holy man appeared more statuesque than human. He neither moved, opened his eyes or spoke. Feeling put off and ignored the initiate became agitated and restless. And then the holy man spoke. ‘Friend, what can I do for you’? He answered, ’I want to be holy just like you. Your purity, piety, and wisdom are renowned, sought out by leaders and powerful men, known far and wide and revered and respected by all’. A slight smile curled about his lips. Knowing the initiate was zealous and sincere but his heart far from pure, the holy man answered thusly. ‘I will give you your first task. Though simple, after completing it, each task will become increasingly harder as you ascend the steps required on your journey to holiness and fulfillment’. Nodding but never opening his eyes he said, ‘go to the hill top over there and sit and position yourself as I do, close your eyes, and don’t open your mouth to speak. Then whatever you do, do not think about monkeys. Arising and puzzled the young man went to yonder hill and when ready he sat down. And as he sat all he could do was think about monkeys.

Most often life unfolds in ways least expected, and the unexpected is what our life becomes. Funny how at any given moment your life can be changed, never again the same, A noble life lived is not about how much you can gain, but about how much you can give. Having shared Sam stood, pausing to take one last look across the water and said goodbye. ‘I love you son’. As he turned to climb back to his car, back to Holly and the girls, a voice arrested his steps and he stood frozen in place. It was Travis, and just as clear as if he was standing near. ‘Dad, bring Mom with you tomorrow . I’ll see you then’.

Rushing home to Holly with the news we found it hard to sleep that night. Arriving early we greeted the new day with hope and a promise. Sitting we scanned the waters. There was no Travis. Then a wind arose with dark skies and thunder and I was reminded ‘when you call in the midst of trouble I will answer you in the secret place of thunder. For I have proved thee at the waters’. Then Holly looked at me. ‘Did you feel that’? as the ground trembled. ‘Yes I did’ as we dawned our poncho’s and a light rain began to fall.

Below the surface a seismic shift caused turbulence and strong currents. Travis’s body was thrown on top of the old Indians bones. He was a Nez Pierce healer and wise man respected by all of his tribe and a convert to the man of the holy writ. ‘It is time for you to go my son. Your mother and father are expecting you’. Then a powerful current its force increased like a nozzle as it was restricted at the opening of the hovel rushed in and then out jettisoning Travis’s body free from the confines it had known, now floating about unhindered in the dark inky depths. Pushed by unseen hands his body followed the direction of his arrival angling towards a brilliant light from above penetrating deep into the murky mist.

Above, the sky parted and a dazzling light shown down on the water its rays spotlighting an area on the surface. Shielding their eyes with ball caps, sunglasses, and their hands Sam and Holly slowly looked back up with Holly the first to jump up yelling to Sam pointing to a body she had just watched pop up out of the water bobbing on the surface. Grabbing his binoculars Sam espied the faded remnant of a Bronco Blue t-shirt Travis often wore for protection from the sun and what appeared to be thick brown curly hair. Silently they stood with eyes splashing tears down their cheeks like rain, riveted on Travis’s body. They held each other tight as a serene silence prevailed, and heaven witnessed this sacrosanct scene between father, mother, and child.

‘Sam you stay, and I’ll alert the marina to send the divers to retrieve the body. I’ll call the county boys and my sister to bring the twins to the dock’. Remembering the spot, divers arrived quickly as they dropped a sling into the water and two men positioned it under the body and it was lifted onto the back of the boat. They signaled as we waved and scampered up to the car and drove to meet them at the dock. The twins were there and our family stood holding each other as the sling with Travis’s body was gently placed on the pier. He was rolled over on his back and then they spoke to us to come. ‘You first Sam’ Holly said as he nodded walked up and knelt by the body. With head bowed he took a moment before waving for us to come. Everyone else retreated giving us space. Tears were spilt but smiles prevailed. And there was closure, blessed closure. Later Sam would relate, aside from us he was not aware of anyone. ‘I felt suspended somewhere between heaven and earth on a misty isle gliding over still waters. Then I was aware of a host of others celebrating this moment with us. And I heard music, sweet music’.

The police arrived with paramedics and the coroner, obtaining photographs and a positive I.D. In two weeks there would be a celebration of life, everyone welcome. A week passed when the mortuary called. ‘There’s a change of plans for the location of the celebration. We can seat upwards of 400, normally sufficient, but there has been an enormous response and thousands will be coming from all over Idaho and the country. Your story has been shared by many outlets and has touched a chord in many hearts. The new site, readily agreed upon by the board of trustees, is the football field at Albertson’s Stadium, Boise State University’. Needless to say we were shocked by this revelation.

The day arrived and our little family was ready or so we thought. There was an incredible outpouring from thousands of souls, all who have suffered tragedy and loss. It was impossible to greet each one personally but the huge video board carried our image and gratitude as we waved to the crowd. Our entrance into the stadium was announced by the pipes, drums, and dancers of the Boise Highlanders marching proudly to Scotland the Brave. Kind and meaningful words were shared, but when Sam took the podium and talked about ‘the vigil’, there was not a dry eye in the stadium, some openly weeping and all connecting to heart searing loss. But tears of joy replaced tears of grief and in benediction the pipes, drums and dancers marched around the track playing and dancing, as we continued our meet and greet. Then they stopped in front of the podium and addressed our family the drum major bowing before they played ‘Amazing Grace’.

The next day a small group of family and friends gathered for the second time to greet the risin’ sun. At the grave site the casket, a tomb that knows no sound, had been exhumed and Travis’s body now filled the empty space as it was lowered into the earth once again. Holly and I sensed his presence and his smile. We heard him whisper softly in our ears. He had so much of life to live. It wasn’t over. It had only just begun………We love you son!

Author’s note: this is a fictional story wrapped around actual events and locations. I would be delighted to know if it blessed you. Leave a comment…..