This past weekend I was able to explore three different
sections of the Sacramento River on a quick trip to Redding. I visited the Sundial
Bridge in Redding with my mom, aunts and uncle, and we walked beneath the
bridge where I waded into the water. It’s cold there, shallow, wide, nearly 300
feet. At this point, its downstream of two large dams, regulating its flow. Fly
fishermen are in their boats, drifting with the current, hoping to catch a
rainbow. Water flowing here is enjoyed by recreationists, before it gets diverted
for irrigation or pumped for municipal use.
Nearly 60 miles upstream, I visited the section near Castella,
where the famous Castle Rock mineral springs bubble up, taking in the scent of the
sulfur-laced water, and watching it flow into the Sacramento River. Its only 20
feet wide here, flowing fast, yet still shallow. I fill my water bottle in the
spring, enjoying the tasty mineral water. This water used to be bottled and
shipped across the world, with beliefs that this mineral rich water cures
ailments and digestive issues.
I ventured 20 miles further north to Mt. Shasta City Park,
where the “headwaters” of the Sacramento River start. Water literally flows out
of the side of the slope, daylighting after it has made its journey from precipitation
and snowmelt to groundwater flowing through basalt bedrock over decades to
hundreds of years. The water flows out with such brilliance, full of clarity, no
blemish, nothing to tarnish its quality. This place attracts some interesting
folks that are enraptured with the natural beauty and spiritual energy of the
area. I fill up my water bottle directly from the opening of the spring. The
water is cold to the touch, and tastes “heavier”, fuller, than normal water. No
artificial filtering has occurred, no chlorination to clean it. I drink it directly
from the source. This is one of my favorite things to do in the area, and
always makes me feel refreshed, as if I connected with Nature or the Divine in
some powerful way.
Now of these 3 sections of the Sacramento River that I visited,
which would we refer to as the “Sacramento River”? What captures the quintessential
description of this amazing river?
Is it only the most popular section?
Is it the section with the most appreciation from its users?
Is it the section that is utilized the most?
Is it its beginning?
Its ending?
Is it subjective, based on our preferences?
I don’t think that we would ever argue that one section is
more “Sacramento River” than any other section, as it is all one, and that is
the beauty of it. The fact that it is so diverse is what makes it so unique, so
mysterious, so beautiful. Through its journey south through northern California
and emptying into San Francisco Bay, it hydrates and feeds the state more than
any other California river. It is truly a river of life to the Golden State.
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My Grandmother, Sherrill Theisen, passed away on August 16
after a decade-plus battle with Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s. She would have
turned 85 years old next month. She lived for 24 years after my Grandfather,
Jerry, passed.
This one hurt. Perhaps due to the short lapse between my Dad’s
death on July 30, my emotions or sensitivity to grief were already heightened,
but this one hurt. Even though we can all share the relief and celebration knowing
she is out of pain, that my aunt has finished the hard journey of walking her through
this to the end, it still hurts. We lost a sweet soul. A good woman.
For my Grandma’s near-85 years, I only knew her for 38 of those years, less than half of her life. Additionally, I only knew her as my Grandmother. I didn’t know her as mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend, colleague, or so many other roles that she took on. The past weekend at her viewing, I enjoyed hearing my mom, aunts, uncle and family friends share some memories of her. I began to think of how I had this blessing of knowing her as my Grandma, but I also now to get to hear more stories of her as a mother and friend, further adding to the picture of this amazing woman. Did you know that she not only worked for the Catholic church, but also the FBI? Not only was she in the Air Force, but also raised 5 kids. I have so many sweet memories of my Grandma, and she played such a huge role in my life – attending every milestone event like my wedding, graduations, birthdays and also for my children. Allowing me to live with them for nearly 2 years, being a part of their daily life while I was in 4th and 5th grade, taking me on so many road trips across the Pacific Northwest. I loved watching her plan for a trip, pulling out the paper map, highlighting and marking the itinerary directly on the map. As a high schooler, I think that our relationship grew the closest. I had just moved from my Dad’s house in Sacramento, back to Redding to live with my Mom. Much of this was initiated after my Grandfather’s death. We met for coffee (where I learned that a McDonald’s coffee is argued to be better than Starbucks), discussed school and history as she was taking classes at the local college “just for fun”, shared dinners, swimming at the house, drives to the lake and overall just checking in. She watched me process and think through my religious/spiritual views without judging, while at the same time asking questions that really made me think. She supported me on my crazy adventures, from snowboarding, making sure I was decked out in the “warmest gear” because you don’t want to freeze on the mountain, to attending my bike races and triathlons (if you have ever attended those, they are really boring except for the start and the finish. You really have to love someone to justify staying the whole time). I never felt like I was a burden to her, and somehow she managed to always find time to maintain relationship as the Matriarch-in-Chief with the whole family while staying active in her volunteering in the schools and the church. When I told her that I was going to marry Alli, she made sure that I was still focused on finishing school – not because of pride or status, but knowing an education is needed to support my family. That was important to her, as it was to me. When I started traveling for work, spending much of 2012 in Costa Rica, she was so excited to hear all the details – the sights, the food, any animals, getting hustled in the markets and conversations with taxi drivers, etc, and would share her stories traveling to Libya, Europe, and elsewhere during her time in the Air Force. She loved hearing about our trials and tribulations as parents of 4 kids (80% of the chaos that she and my Grandpa had), and would share some embarrassing memories of my mom, uncle and aunts.
These are some of the moments that I shared with this
amazing woman we know as Sherrill Theisen. Yet, I emphasize that these are just
moments of an 85-year adventure that she lived.
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Grief is hard as we can be pulled in two different
directions – sitting in the painful loss of this special person that we shared
these moments with, while hearing and celebrating how this person impacted the
lives of other people that they journeyed through life with.
Grief from the passing of a loved one is like being on the
Sacramento River, describing it from just one location, recognizing the beauty,
the vitality, the mystery and discovery of that particular section, thinking
you fully understand how this amazing river moves, only to hear other descriptions
further upstream or downstream of the same river, and realizing “wow, there is
so much more here than what I am seeing.” Unlike death though, you can always travel
and experience those other sections of the river. Death serves a finality to
those plans and experiences.
Grief is the presence of absence, and it sets in when you
realize that you will never experience that section you enjoyed again, left
with only the memories made, while at the same time realizing you only
experienced a sliver of all that this person’s life entailed. I think that this
is the tipping point of “Good Grief” and “Despair”. A good grief focuses on
celebrating the life shared while recognizing the loss, while despair focuses solely
on the loss and struggles to celebrate what was experienced. Although I will
never know my Grandmother as a mother, wife, friend, daughter, or other role,
or share any future adventures with her, I can’t help but be incredibly and
forever grateful that I was blessed to call her “Grandma”.
Grandma Sherry – thank you for letting me journey with you
on that “river section” of your life, and thank you for your example, love and enthusiasm
for family, faith, service, and adventures! You truly were a "river of life" to your community and your family. I love you.
This is a beautiful metaphor of life and ode to your Grandma, Mike. Thanks for sharing. 🙏💛
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