These last six years have been the most defining. Returning to school was one of the best decisions that I ever made. I worked hard, discovered opportunity, and grew faster and stronger than ever before. Now, I am a wildlife professional, gaining experience to prepare for my master’s degree and grander pursuits. This would have never happened without the support from my wife, family, and friends. None of this would have happened without my benefit from death.
Early June is a time of reflection. For me, this time of year commemorates the birth of my brother and the death of my father. I am reminded that I lost both in 2011. My brother was 31 and my father was 61. They say that time heals all wounds but that isn’t true. Alternatively, I believe that we learn to live with the loss. I reflect and my relationship with them continues. I miss them.
My brother, Paul, died in February of that year after a lengthy illness. The hardship and loss shook me and did something profound. After the initial blow and overwhelming sadness, I contemplated my own mortality and reflected upon my own life. I yearned for something more. At first, I made a compulsive decision to quit a stressful and unrewarding job. Then my father died unexpectantly in June. The next year would be defined as my darkest. The struggle after losing half of my kin tested my marriage, my notion of family, and my mind. Through the darkness, I put together a plan to get back to school and discover where I was heading. I can’t help but wonder, “Would I be in here if I didn’t lose them?”
Suddenly, it was okay to take risk. I didn’t know when I was going to die and twice, I learned that life was too short. Nothing could be as bad as my year of hell.
When I was young, I was heavily influenced by my father and uncle, who always loved and respected the outdoors. Along the way, I found friends who shared these ideals. I recall saying that I wanted to be a professional angler and argued that hunting and fishing were real sports. Deep down, I knew that competing in the next Bassmaster Classic wasn’t going to be my career ticket. A livelihood in the field of natural resources is what I needed but I didn’t know it at the time.
Unfortunately, I had little guidance in this pursuit. A career counselor once said that I could be a park ranger. Although this was arguably the best advice that I was given in my youth, my inexperienced mind knew that a 23k salary wasn’t going too far nor did this particular path interest me. I had no mentors to encourage me in the right direction. Wildlife biologists were quirky folks that were featured on National Geographic and worked in Africa or some other exotic land; ecologists were those weird people from prestigious universities that were featured in documentaries. These careers seemed so far-fetched that I deemed them impossible. On the other hand, the tech industry of the nineties promised a secure future and computer science was interesting and sexy. Maybe I could satiate my need for the outdoors on the weekends. Without being ready or really thinking it though, urged by my parents, I enrolled in college as a computer science major. My rude awakening struck when I couldn’t imagine myself coding for eight hours a day. Needless to say, I left school with debt. Nevertheless, I hoped that I would return someday. For what, I did not know.
I took jobs here and there – none of them interesting or fulfilling. My standard of living became more costly. The dream of an actual career became vague. I met my wife and new friends and became influenced by the world of business. I tried. I even took a few courses in an attempt to complete an associate’s degree. She and my friends wondered why I was so depressed and unfulfilled and I pondered this too.
Then, I received my benefit from death. Losing them changed my world — my perspective — how I saw everything. Finally, I set out to do what I loved. On that first day of school, I didn’t know where my path would lead. Hell, I didn’t even know what major I was seeking. I had a vague idea — a general direction — and I never looked back.
Would I be here in Yellowstone if my father and brother were living? I look out over the striking landscape and ponder this question. I am a different person than I was six years ago.