Loving Explorer

As a young child, I dreamed of having an older brother. When I was eight years old, my dad dated a woman for two weeks and then married her.

True story.

My friend Jenny found me at recess on the day of the wedding and told me my dad was getting married that night. Why did my friend Jenny know my dad was getting married, and I didn’t? I don’t know. But I can unpack that in therapy some other time. 

My teacher had a routine where each afternoon, we could line up at her desk if we wanted to tell her something. I needed someone to talk to, so I approached her desk and announced, “My dad is getting married tonight.” She started asking me questions about the wedding, and all I could say was, “I dunno. I just found out at recess.” 

I must’ve sounded like a story teller.

That night, I was instructed to put on some church clothes because I was going “somewhere” with my dad. My dad came and picked up my younger brother and me, and off we went to what ended up really being his wedding.

With that impulsive marriage (lasting over 30 years so far), I got an older brother (as well as four older sisters, which was another dream of mine!)

Older Brother: Mullet Edition

James was everything I thought a big brother should be. He was funny and playful - always rough housing and wrestling with everyone. He was a blast to hang out with but could also be super annoying and pig headed. There were times I looked at James and thought he was so cool. Other times I thought he was a complete idiot. He called me “Butt” (short for “Buttany”). 

“Hey, Butt!”

“How ya been, Butt?”

“Buttany’s here!”

Above all, James was loving and protective in the way of big brothers. Despite his tendency to fart under blankets and then hold them over my head, James was good to me. Every time I saw him, he greeted me with a big hug, and a “Hey, Butt!” which I had to act annoyed by on principle, but secretly, always found humor in.

James was always up for a challenge no matter the level of stupidity. Jump onto the hood of a moving car? Sure. Swallow a live fish? Check. Suck down a raw egg? No problem. That thing with the sunbreeze essential oil? I will never write about that here.

You can probably sense where this is going; I’m speaking in past tense. We lost James unexpectedly last week. On Monday night he left my parents’ house in the rural foothills of Sanpete County and tragically went missing. I found out on my way from Saint George to girls camp that James had been missing for over 24 hours. The circumstances were strange and eerie enough that there was no denying there could be a bad outcome, but we were clinging to hope for a good turn around.

On Thursday morning, while still at camp, I got word that a hiker had found James deceased near an ATV trail. On one hand, I’d felt it coming. On the other, I was completely stunned because that’s not how the story should have ended. It should have been a mistake. He should have been just fine and come back with a wild and adventurous story. 

At this point it’s believed he died from hypothermia. There’s more to be learned there, but there is a lot we will never know. 

Now we have a big hole in our pieced-together family. 

Over the last few days, as I’ve thought about and remembered James, I’ve tried to come up with the best way to describe him. It wasn’t hard to pick the best words for James. If I had to concisely describe him to you in two words, I would choose “loving explorer.”

Loving was his character and exploring was his passion. 

James was a friendly guy - never one to shy away from saying hello and starting up a conversation. He was an initiator of many embraces, sometimes squeezing extra hard, boa constrictor style, just because he could! James didn’t have to say he loved you. You just knew. 

He also loved animals and always had pets - a blind dog… a stinky ferret… a hermit crab that got lost under his bed and died (we found the body later when we were cleaning out James’s room after finding out he was allergic to dust mites). James kept bees and could catch fish in a lake or river with his bare hands. He was always snuggling with our family dogs and letting them lick his face. 

James was an outdoorsman and preferred being in the mountains. He liked to hike, fish, and camp. He was a big fan of waterfalls and rock formations and was always excited to share photos and stories of his adventures. He enjoyed exploring nature but also liked going to see man-made ruins and relics, and well… let’s just say… he wasn’t afraid of trespassing. 

After I found out James had died, I wasn’t sure when it would actually feel real. Grief can be a strange thing. Mine hit Saturday night after his obituary was posted. I’d already read it, so I knew what was coming, but there was something about having it officially published that made me go, “Oh, boy! James is really gone!” Scotty and I were at our friends’ house playing games and celebrating Scotty’s and Chad’s birthdays (an annual tradition), and suddenly I burst out crying and said, “My grief just hit!” I laughed at the absurd timing and wiped away my tears. They kept randomly starting up again throughout the evening. Then, during a round of Risk, Scotty attacked one of my territories, occupied by a single reinforcement, and I looked him deadpan in the face and said, “You know my brother just died, right?”

Then I cried and laughed some more because James would be so proud of me for having such a sick sense of humor. We do grief wrong and inappropriately, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

I’m sad for the loss of James, but I’m also mourning for my step-mom who lost her son and for James’s blood siblings who lost their brother. I find joy in imagining James reunited with his biological father who passed away when we were kids, and I laugh envisioning him with our Grandma Romney (if you know, you know). 

I think my siblings would all agree that we each have a James-shaped imprint on our hearts. 

So long, Loving Explorer.